The Door

A little over a year ago, I experienced God.

Although I was completely  overwhelmed by what he had done in my life, I was terrified to share; as I was afraid the change wouldn’t last. 

It is no secret my parents and I have not always agreed.  Stubborn is a word which could be used to describe all three of us; only we are all three stubborn in our own way.  

A lot of past experiences, words, and decisions had finally come to a point where I was ready to be done. Not just done… DONE.  

I am not sure why, but when I come to the point of being DONE, I often return to the place I associate with the problem.

For example,

At one point in my early 20’s I was done with the church.  I returned to the first church my father pastored and kicked sand in the parking lot as I screamed.  Anyone passing by probably thought I was possessed and the church parking lot was probably the best place for me to be.

Done with reality of ten years of marriage had ended in a divorce- I returned to the house where the JERK had left me. I did not kick sand this time; only said Goodbye and cried as I drove away.

So naturally, when I was done with my family, I returned to the house I associated with as where many of our problems had occurred and left there  scars on our relationship.

I also wanted to return to the place where I had found myself, my place of comfort.  My safe place during those teenage years- the place where my swingset once stood.

I had brought my camera to take one final picture; as I wanted to remember the strength I had during those times.  Those times when my mind would escape while I swang for hours listening to my music.  

After all, I had no intentions of ever returning again.

I told God I was done… wait a minute… it was more like DONE!!

And as I drove I talked more… and more…to myself.  

And as I talked ...more and more came out, the conversation transitioned to one with God.  

I would love to tell you I can remember all the word vomit I released, but I can’t… and I think that is part of the DONE…

I remember clearly the trees which sit adjacent to the church property only to see my father’s truck.

I was pissed!  The word vomit transitioned to screaming at God. 

I was mad! That was my time! Why is he here?  He isn’t supposed to be here! 

I parked my car at the fellowship hall.  I sent him a text acknowledging it was me; as if the blacked out Jeep Renegade didn’t tell it all.  

I told myself I would tell him that I was here to capture photos of childhood memories. 

Okay~ so as you already know that wasn’t the whole truth.

I walked around the side of the house to the location where my swingset use to sit.   

Not only was it gone,  but the view had changed.

Instead I saw the door.

The door I used to exit the house.

Sometimes this would be a known exit while many times it was used to sneak out to the swingset.

I took a picture.

As I came around the house, my father was exiting his truck.

I think this is when the “half truth actually excited my mouth.

He was eager to show me where the swingset once sat, where my beloved Kristy was buried, and many more parts of my past.

I walked with him over to the church, so he could show me inside.

It wasn’t as big as I remembered.  However, it still didn’t feel like I belonged.

While talking with my day my mom called.

I was upset.

Why would she call me now?  It had been awhile since we spoke.

I answered the phone.

She was caught off guard that I was with dad.

I was caught off guard that I was with dad and that she was calling.

She told me to call her when I was done talking to dad.

The dictionary defines DONE as no longer happening or existing.

I was ready to be done or give up.

Oddly enough the definition of surrender is to give up..

My plan was to be DONE with my family, go get my custom swing necklace, and finish my Phoenix tattoo.

God’s plan was for me to SURRENDER….. so he could restore.