When You're Locked Out
Today began with such promise. I woke up early to an unseasonably cool breeze and sunshine filtering through the trees. Today is the last day of my summer vacation. It seems as if it was to be the last perfect pearl plucked from the strand. I took Bailey for our morning walk, prayed, and read my Bible. I already decided yesterday that I would give our house one more good cleaning before my time and energy got sucked away by the greedy demands of teaching public school.
The turning point came while I was wiping down the kitchen counter. I saw the slobber stains all over the glass of our back door. That's where Bailey spends most of her time outdoors, waiting impatiently for someone to let her back inside. She uses the doorknob as a signal by hitting it with her nose; the more frequent her hits, the more frantic she is. That's how her saliva gets all over the glass and the knob.
That's when my glorious morning morphed into a bad episode of I Love Lucy.
It's easy to get locked out of our house. My husband has installed these security knobs that always open from the inside even when they are locked, which is a great thing in a fire. On the other hand, you've got to test the door every time you go out to make sure it isn't locked. It's a habit of mine now, and I made sure when I went out to clean the glass -- barefooted, Windex in hand, and without my phone.
The door wasn't locked -- until I jiggled it just the wrong way while I was cleaning it. I felt a tiny click and the handle froze. I was incredulous. "Seriously?!" I screeched out in frustration. We don't have a hide-a-key, and my husband's new job makes it impossible for him to come home and let me back in even if I managed to find a phone, so I could call him. I had one saving grace.
I little bit before I got locked out, I opened some of our windows to air out our house. The solution was obvious; I'd just have to climb in through one of the blessedly-open windows. My first choice was the kitchen window because the screen comes off easily, and the deck makes it more accessible. I popped of the screen, ready to crawl in. Then I saw my feet covered in dirt, dog hair, and sticky grass. All I could see through the window was the spotless sink I'd just scrubbed. No way. I couldn't do it.
So I set off on my bare feet to survey my other options. All but one of the other windows was either too small or blocked by sharp rocks and poky bushes. The only one left was my bedroom window which was the highest off the ground and on the side of the house that faces the neighbors. That meant two things. First, I would have to jump a little bit. Second, I would have an audience. If you know me at all, you realize that's a recipe for disaster. I just couldn't soil my beautifully clean sink, so
I took my chances.
First, I had to get the screen off. I tried for a few minutes to use my fingernails, but I couldn't get enough leverage. I traipsed around the backyard, followed faithfully by Bailey, until I found a thin yet sturdy holly branch. I used it to pry off the screen. The tallest, most stable thing I could find to stand on was a bench that's part of our fire pit set. I pulled it over to the window and climbed up, but I was still a little bit short. There would be no elegant stepping into the room on the other side.
I did the only thing I could think of -- I used the bench like a diving board and cannon-balled myself into the window. Success! I learned a long time ago how to fall without tensing up. For someone as clumsy as I am it's a matter of self-preservation. I found myself on the floor of my bedroom unhurt. I wish I could say as much for the curtains; they were tangled beneath me. On my way in, I'd torn the curtain rod from the wall. (At this point Bailey decided we were playing a new game and tried to jump in the window after me. Thankfully, she couldn't quite make it.)
At that point I got concerned. I'm sure you've had those days where every solution to a problem you manage to come up with creates unintended problems of its own. It made me wonder what I'd damage trying to re-install the curtains. I put on some shoes, praising the Lord that I hadn't managed to vacuum yet. I went outside, making doubly sure the door was unlocked, and set everything back the way it should be out there. Then I rummaged around until I found a screwdriver and lugged a dining room chair back to the scene of the crime.
You might not believe it, but I was able to speedily put the curtains back up, although the bracket is now off by about a quarter of an inch (I promise you my husband will notice). The whole episode only took a little less than an hour out of my day. I wasn't even that angry or frustrated about it. I just threw up my hands and thought, "Of course! I can't have a quiet, relaxing, uneventful, last day of my summer vacation! That would be too easy."
Interestingly enough, I even think getting locked out was a blessing of sorts. I've been fretting the last few weeks about my future as a teacher. It seems the public schools are being asked to do more and more with less and less. I've been asking myself, "Where's the line? When do I call it quits and do something else?" The real answer is that I believe I'll know when it's time to move on just like I knew God was asking me to become a teacher in the first place. My real concern is not knowing when to quit. It is being able to keep doing what I do in increasingly difficult circumstances.
Bouncing through my bedroom window today reminded me of two things.
First, God always provides the people he calls with the things they need to get the job done. I've experienced it over and over again. Today the challenge was figuring out how to break into my own house. It turns out all those days as a youngster figuring out how to fix my bike with a rusty nail or build a fort with old tree limbs taught me how to be resourceful. It's second nature for me to utilize what I have to formulate a solution instead of buying something at the store or sitting around thinking, "Well, it's hopeless. I wish I had a spare key."
That truth doesn't change. What will I do when I need something for my classroom? I'll figure out a way to get it or just make do with what I have. I put together a bulletin board with stuff from my trash pile last year! I know there will be challenges this year, but I have confidence that God will provide. In fact, he probably already has, and I just don't know it yet.
Second, sometimes God locks the door. Don't you hate it when he does that? You expect things to be a certain way, they change, and then you're disappointed. You're standing there so frustrated thinking, "Gee, there's a perfectly good door right there. I could walk right through it. EXCEPT IT'S LOCKED!" In real life the locked door could be a lot of different things: a divorce, a death, a lost job...
The important thing to remember is that even though the door is locked, God always leaves a window open. Unfortunately, the window might not be easy to reach, and it might take all your ingenuity to pop off the screen. Hey, you might even have to blindly launch yourself into it. It will be there though, even if you don't see it clearly at first. My husband often says, "God never takes anything out of your life unless he gives you back something else that is more and better." The window, however difficult, might take you to a place the locked door could never lead you.
If you find yourself proverbially locked out (or maybe literally like me), believe that God will provide for you as his child because he will. He is much more faithful than we can ever be. And remember not to stand so long looking at the locked door that you don't see the open window ready for you to jump through it.
The turning point came while I was wiping down the kitchen counter. I saw the slobber stains all over the glass of our back door. That's where Bailey spends most of her time outdoors, waiting impatiently for someone to let her back inside. She uses the doorknob as a signal by hitting it with her nose; the more frequent her hits, the more frantic she is. That's how her saliva gets all over the glass and the knob.
That's when my glorious morning morphed into a bad episode of I Love Lucy.
It's easy to get locked out of our house. My husband has installed these security knobs that always open from the inside even when they are locked, which is a great thing in a fire. On the other hand, you've got to test the door every time you go out to make sure it isn't locked. It's a habit of mine now, and I made sure when I went out to clean the glass -- barefooted, Windex in hand, and without my phone.
The door wasn't locked -- until I jiggled it just the wrong way while I was cleaning it. I felt a tiny click and the handle froze. I was incredulous. "Seriously?!" I screeched out in frustration. We don't have a hide-a-key, and my husband's new job makes it impossible for him to come home and let me back in even if I managed to find a phone, so I could call him. I had one saving grace.
I little bit before I got locked out, I opened some of our windows to air out our house. The solution was obvious; I'd just have to climb in through one of the blessedly-open windows. My first choice was the kitchen window because the screen comes off easily, and the deck makes it more accessible. I popped of the screen, ready to crawl in. Then I saw my feet covered in dirt, dog hair, and sticky grass. All I could see through the window was the spotless sink I'd just scrubbed. No way. I couldn't do it.
So I set off on my bare feet to survey my other options. All but one of the other windows was either too small or blocked by sharp rocks and poky bushes. The only one left was my bedroom window which was the highest off the ground and on the side of the house that faces the neighbors. That meant two things. First, I would have to jump a little bit. Second, I would have an audience. If you know me at all, you realize that's a recipe for disaster. I just couldn't soil my beautifully clean sink, so
I took my chances.
First, I had to get the screen off. I tried for a few minutes to use my fingernails, but I couldn't get enough leverage. I traipsed around the backyard, followed faithfully by Bailey, until I found a thin yet sturdy holly branch. I used it to pry off the screen. The tallest, most stable thing I could find to stand on was a bench that's part of our fire pit set. I pulled it over to the window and climbed up, but I was still a little bit short. There would be no elegant stepping into the room on the other side.
I did the only thing I could think of -- I used the bench like a diving board and cannon-balled myself into the window. Success! I learned a long time ago how to fall without tensing up. For someone as clumsy as I am it's a matter of self-preservation. I found myself on the floor of my bedroom unhurt. I wish I could say as much for the curtains; they were tangled beneath me. On my way in, I'd torn the curtain rod from the wall. (At this point Bailey decided we were playing a new game and tried to jump in the window after me. Thankfully, she couldn't quite make it.)
At that point I got concerned. I'm sure you've had those days where every solution to a problem you manage to come up with creates unintended problems of its own. It made me wonder what I'd damage trying to re-install the curtains. I put on some shoes, praising the Lord that I hadn't managed to vacuum yet. I went outside, making doubly sure the door was unlocked, and set everything back the way it should be out there. Then I rummaged around until I found a screwdriver and lugged a dining room chair back to the scene of the crime.
You might not believe it, but I was able to speedily put the curtains back up, although the bracket is now off by about a quarter of an inch (I promise you my husband will notice). The whole episode only took a little less than an hour out of my day. I wasn't even that angry or frustrated about it. I just threw up my hands and thought, "Of course! I can't have a quiet, relaxing, uneventful, last day of my summer vacation! That would be too easy."
Interestingly enough, I even think getting locked out was a blessing of sorts. I've been fretting the last few weeks about my future as a teacher. It seems the public schools are being asked to do more and more with less and less. I've been asking myself, "Where's the line? When do I call it quits and do something else?" The real answer is that I believe I'll know when it's time to move on just like I knew God was asking me to become a teacher in the first place. My real concern is not knowing when to quit. It is being able to keep doing what I do in increasingly difficult circumstances.
Bouncing through my bedroom window today reminded me of two things.
First, God always provides the people he calls with the things they need to get the job done. I've experienced it over and over again. Today the challenge was figuring out how to break into my own house. It turns out all those days as a youngster figuring out how to fix my bike with a rusty nail or build a fort with old tree limbs taught me how to be resourceful. It's second nature for me to utilize what I have to formulate a solution instead of buying something at the store or sitting around thinking, "Well, it's hopeless. I wish I had a spare key."
That truth doesn't change. What will I do when I need something for my classroom? I'll figure out a way to get it or just make do with what I have. I put together a bulletin board with stuff from my trash pile last year! I know there will be challenges this year, but I have confidence that God will provide. In fact, he probably already has, and I just don't know it yet.
Second, sometimes God locks the door. Don't you hate it when he does that? You expect things to be a certain way, they change, and then you're disappointed. You're standing there so frustrated thinking, "Gee, there's a perfectly good door right there. I could walk right through it. EXCEPT IT'S LOCKED!" In real life the locked door could be a lot of different things: a divorce, a death, a lost job...
The important thing to remember is that even though the door is locked, God always leaves a window open. Unfortunately, the window might not be easy to reach, and it might take all your ingenuity to pop off the screen. Hey, you might even have to blindly launch yourself into it. It will be there though, even if you don't see it clearly at first. My husband often says, "God never takes anything out of your life unless he gives you back something else that is more and better." The window, however difficult, might take you to a place the locked door could never lead you.
If you find yourself proverbially locked out (or maybe literally like me), believe that God will provide for you as his child because he will. He is much more faithful than we can ever be. And remember not to stand so long looking at the locked door that you don't see the open window ready for you to jump through it.
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