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I don’t know if I’ve ever written about this, but one of the biggest obstacles standing between me and a happy marriage was the house I lived in.
I hated it.
It was old, it was ugly, and it was falling apart. And any attempt I made to try to make it nicer, homier, or to reflect some small portion of my preferences and personality was often rejected. It was painful.
To make matters worse, my ex-husband was a contractor, so he made his living making other people’s houses look good! Meanwhile, our house – I can’t even call it a “home” – our house was always in some state of disrepair and disarray. That was a hard pill for me to swallow. I didn't grow up in an ugly house, why was I now a working adult living in an ugly, beat up house. It made no sense.
One of the many things I disliked about the place was the front door. I really don’t think it was a door, I think it was a board that my husband put up and called a door. Honestly.
So I remember often telling him that we should get a new door, even offering to pay for it myself, but he never wanted it replaced. Please don’t ask me why, I have no clue.
OK, so fast forward to yesterday. I was in Lowes, returning some curtains, and there was a contractor there picking up a door for one of his clients. Immediately I felt some kinda way, as the young people say...
I thought about how wonderful it was that this person was getting a new door! Whoever the person was, they immediately became my friend, I loved them for having made this purchasing decision. There was a part of me that wanted to wait around to see the door they'd selected, but I had things to do... plus that would have been weird. :-)
Then my mind went back to myself and I felt sad. You see, I remembered the shame and confusion I felt on the many days I walked through the ugly door at that house I lived in as a married woman. And I remembered the embarrassment I felt when anyone would come through it. They had to know that it was a board and that it lead to a house that needed a lot of work. Most of our visitors never mentioned it, and I will always be grateful to them for that. But I knew.
The truth is that, in many ways, that door was the entryway to a life that, quite frankly, was not what I wanted or felt that I deserved. There were some good times there, that’s for certain, but that house and that door were a constant reminder that all was not well in my world.
Now that I think about it, doors can be rather symbolic, can't they? They represent an opening and a closing. A beginning and an end.
So once I stopped feeling sad, I rejoiced in knowing that God had provided me with a new door... a new opening, a new beginning.
Now I love my door, and I love the home it leads me to, and I love the life that’s cultivated inside that home. Life is good.
I just wish I hadn’t spent so much time in that old house with that old ugly door.
I hated it.
It was old, it was ugly, and it was falling apart. And any attempt I made to try to make it nicer, homier, or to reflect some small portion of my preferences and personality was often rejected. It was painful.
To make matters worse, my ex-husband was a contractor, so he made his living making other people’s houses look good! Meanwhile, our house – I can’t even call it a “home” – our house was always in some state of disrepair and disarray. That was a hard pill for me to swallow. I didn't grow up in an ugly house, why was I now a working adult living in an ugly, beat up house. It made no sense.
One of the many things I disliked about the place was the front door. I really don’t think it was a door, I think it was a board that my husband put up and called a door. Honestly.
So I remember often telling him that we should get a new door, even offering to pay for it myself, but he never wanted it replaced. Please don’t ask me why, I have no clue.
OK, so fast forward to yesterday. I was in Lowes, returning some curtains, and there was a contractor there picking up a door for one of his clients. Immediately I felt some kinda way, as the young people say...
I thought about how wonderful it was that this person was getting a new door! Whoever the person was, they immediately became my friend, I loved them for having made this purchasing decision. There was a part of me that wanted to wait around to see the door they'd selected, but I had things to do... plus that would have been weird. :-)
Then my mind went back to myself and I felt sad. You see, I remembered the shame and confusion I felt on the many days I walked through the ugly door at that house I lived in as a married woman. And I remembered the embarrassment I felt when anyone would come through it. They had to know that it was a board and that it lead to a house that needed a lot of work. Most of our visitors never mentioned it, and I will always be grateful to them for that. But I knew.
The truth is that, in many ways, that door was the entryway to a life that, quite frankly, was not what I wanted or felt that I deserved. There were some good times there, that’s for certain, but that house and that door were a constant reminder that all was not well in my world.
Now that I think about it, doors can be rather symbolic, can't they? They represent an opening and a closing. A beginning and an end.
So once I stopped feeling sad, I rejoiced in knowing that God had provided me with a new door... a new opening, a new beginning.
Now I love my door, and I love the home it leads me to, and I love the life that’s cultivated inside that home. Life is good.
I just wish I hadn’t spent so much time in that old house with that old ugly door.
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