The lock on my front door had been jammed for a month. I was not able to open it from the inside nor the outside. Needless to say, my garage doors received a lot of activity; the use of my car, taking out the trash, going on prayer walks, Reddogg having his own needs, and feeding Pan, my outdoor cat. Well! You get the picture, up and down, up and down, the garbage doors were opened multiple times a day. Like many things I take for granted, I never realized how much I used my front door until I no longer couldn’t.

Three weeks ago I called the company who could provide me with a new doorknob, and a technician who could assess my lock and hopefully fix it. The date was set for Monday, April 29th. I couldn’t wait for my door to be fixed. I love this door. I planned on keeping this door. It has three dead bolts and best of all a full glass view providing lots of light into my front hallway. It has a lead type of trim inside the glass, in the shape of an arch, the shape you often see in a church. I call it my “Chapel Door” because it leads me right out into what I consider my real church, Mother Nature and all she has to offer.

The technician, Dale, arrived right on time Monday morning, 9 A.M. I invited him to enter Our Treehouse through the well used garage door. I escorted him in, then followed several feet behind him. He walked straight up to my door, firmly planted his feet hip width apart, set his fists on both sides of his hips, and with total confidence assessed my front entryway. He slowly moved his head from left to right, and though I could not see his eyes I knew he was silently taking in every detail. I remember thinking,”It’s like he’s almost talking to my door”. Then suddenly I recognized that powerful, confident stance. “I think I’ve got Superman in my house! Just put a cape on him and there you are!” I knew then my door would be fixed. No problem. The confidence he had in what he was doing was written all over him. Unlike me when I would try one more time to un-jam my door, all hunched over, worried, tugging on the door handle, wondering, “Why won’t you work?”. Then I would throw up my hands and walk away.

I thought about all this later on my prayer walk. I’m sure Dale did not always have that “Superman stance”, that confidence about fixing doors when he first started to learn how to fix doors. Then I began to think about me, and how I am now learning how to post on my own blog website. I have chosen to walk through a new door in my own life. I am learning slowly but surely, and I have so much more to learn. But I’m not all bent out of shape about it, worried, wondering. My awesome IT man, Vernon, tells me all the time, “Slow down. There’s a lot here to learn. You got this.”

Dale had brought his trusty toolbox into my home. He brought tools inside with him and he went out to his truck a few times to retrieve other tools. He knew what tools would help him succeed to fix this door. He also was on the phone a time or two, maybe to ask for help, or perhaps he was answering someone else’s questions. Either way, that man knew he could reach out to someone, ask a question, delegate a task, etc. He works alone most of the time on his job, but yet he is not really alone. All of this adds up to the fact he fixed my door. I did not have to go buy a new lock or a new doorknob and it actually is easier to lock than it ever has been since I bought the door thirteen years ago. And I get to keep my “Chapel Door”!

I am so very happy I have stepped through this “my own blog All Here Now” door. One day I too will stand with that “Superman stance”, feeling so very confident about all the choices I have to create on this website, and understanding so much more what all the content means on the dashboard, which provides me all the information of HOW to create on this web site. Dreams do come true, one step at a time. I encourage everyone to step through that new doorway you might be thinking about for your own life, and watch yourself grow. One day you will be standing with YOUR feet hip width apart, YOUR fists on your hips, standing straight and tall, and you’ll smile and say, “Hand me my cape, please!”.

c   Love, Joan