Sometimes yesterday, though I cannot tell you what time, something really special happened to me.
At the risk of sounding too mystical or weird, I'd say it was an outright personal vision.
Without warning, my heart felt years of stagnant, accumulated worry just melt down
into a deep, still puddle and retreat behind a door, like a weak and frightened oil spill.
It just poured out of my spirit somehow then silently disappeared. All of it.
Then with my mind, no... even with my actual eyeballs, I saw that door closing.
Does this freak you out at all? I hope not. It was a wholly positive experience.
Please listen to just a little more...
I wasn't sure for a few minutes what was happening, but as it sank in I felt better and better. Handsome is home from the office this week. In fact, yesterday was his thirty-seventh birthday! We went about our relaxing and I never mentioned it to him until tonight.
But the relief gradually transformed into joy. Then this morning I woke up with an even more concentrated sense of freedom, and I am so excited to share it with you guys now!
I found this image and traced it back to a site called Nooks and Crannies,
but the original link no longer exists.
So I have no idea where this breathtaking door
can actually be found, but isn't it great?
Again, what I saw most vividly was a door. A tall, heavy, beautiful, carved and gilded wooden door, a door that once and for all and right before my eyes closed shut against a cavernous room filled with all of my worries. More worries even than what could possibly have melted out of me a moment ago. That room was deep and dark and lonely, hopeless, unproductive. And the door closed of its own accord. I heard the complicated latch click; I heard the wood groan; and I saw a little puff of dust escape through the paper thin space at the floor.
You guys, it was a brief event, but so incredible.
The longer I sit with this feeling, this new lightness of spirit, the more beautiful that door seems to me. It has been changing shapes and colors all day as I try to recall the original image.
One minute, it is squared and unfinished, rough wood strapped with ancient iron fixtures. Another minute my mind has it appearing as stucco and draped with flowering bougainvillea vines, flanked by overflowing pots of fragrant herbs. Surely by tomorrow I will see this important door a half dozen more ways.
This door that has sealed off worry is always thick and substantial. It is always strong and quiet, resolute in its duty to save me from myself. It sort of smiles at me (if doors can smile) and it reminds me in its still strength that reentering the Worry Room would be a deliberate choice on my part. It would require a decision and some energy spent to go keep company with those old worries again.
So throughout today I have smiled back at the tall, mysterious, miraculous door; then I shift my focus.
With the Worry Room full but locked behind me, I can see the rest of my world better. Unhindered and less fearful. I see the wild and lively gardens of life all around me... my marriage, my children, our parents, friends, and family, work, dreams, so many goals and hopes that have been on the back burner all this time because of worry. I can now reapply my time and energy where it will be much more profitable.
Something besides me closed that door. Something else caused all of this to happen, and now everything is possible. I am suddenly and very happily released from that wasteful room.
Stephanie, stop worrying. You have always loved beautiful doors, right?
Every time I see one I think of you, and this one was no exception.
I love you, and I hope you can close the door to your worries soon.
That's about all I have to tell you about what happened yesterday. The precipitating effects promise to be numerous, though. I can hardly think of a part of life that won't benefit from this new freedom and strength.
Best wishes everyone. Worry is a waste.