This week’s Discover Challenge struck me because I often look at houses I pass in neighborhoods and such and think to myself I wonder what stories exist behind that door… It doesn’t come from a place of being nosy, it’s more an intrigue about the world in which we live.
I think about these things when my kids come home from school and tell me about a classmate being mean, or sullen, or acting out. My first response, much to their annoyance by now, is maybe they have something going on at home.
I have a heavy heart that ugliness lives behind the closed doors of the most pristine of houses. Pain, struggle, turmoil, abuse, apathy, and worse. Alternatively, beacons of love and comfort can live behind the closed doors of even a shanty.
Every person comes with pages and pages of their personal story. And what you and I see is often very different than what is real. Houses, people… Our outer reflection that we project to others is in of itself, a door.
My mother-in law used to live with us. She would decide, from time to time, to do a total clean of my house. It would gleam, counters would be clear, and clutter put away. But what we would discover is that everything that had been out had ‘disappeared’. When we moved we discovered her stashes of mountains of items we thought lost forever. Her idea of cleaning the clutter was to hide it away. How often do we do the same in our lives-hide away the ‘clutter’ into compartments of ourselves, behind closed doors so that we – let alone others – can’t see it?
I would venture to say that, perhaps I’ve opened the doorway to myself a bit through this blog. Taken out my ‘clutter’ to examine it and decide what to do with it. My story. What it was, what it is, and what it could and may be…