My garage is attached to the end of my ranch-style house. I am so thankful for my garage. This is the first time in my entire adult life that I have been able to park under a roof. What a blessing to be sheltered from the rain, snow, and frost! Since the garage is attached and locked, I have a habit of not locking the back door. I don’t even carry a house key with me.
One day, I was cleaning out that catch-all on my car’s console and found an extra house key by itself – not even on a ring. I thought it might come in handy someday so I decided to put it somewhere safe. I finished cleaning out the car and went on with whatever was next.
Several weeks later, I came home, pulled into my glorious garage, removed my belongings from the car, and walked up the stairs to the landing and the back door. My hand went through the motion of turning the doorknob, and I nearly drove my face into the door. It was locked! Locked? It can’t be. The handle must be just stuck. I try the doorknob again, and it won’t budge! Oh no! What do I do now? The door is locked.
I am tempted to panic. No, I won’t do that. “God, what do I do?” Mentally, I start reviewing my house and thinking about all the windows on the ground level. No, those are all locked. The one in front might be unlocked, but it is higher off the ground. I would need to climb a ladder and then take off the window screen. My house is on a busy corner, and I don’t want people to watch me trying to break into my own house! I could break the glass on the back door — but that goes directly to the outside, and I would have to cover it until I could have it fixed.
My only option was right before me: I am going to have to break the glass on this door. The top half of the door has windows that do open but only from the inside. There is a screen, which I pry off, on the bottom half of the window. Okay! Deep breath. Okay, okay, okay. Now I need something to break this glass. I have never done this before. How does one break the glass on a door? I need a thief! Okay, I found a carpenter’s square. It seems heavy enough. It seems pointy enough. Then I face that glass and realize I have to gather up the courage to break it! I swing and hit the glass and nothing happens. I’m not hitting it hard enough. I pull my arm back further and swing more forcefully. I actually produced a tiny scratch in the glass this time. I am not yet ready to admit I don’t have enough courage. Why does it take so much courage to break a window? Why am I hesitating? Do I want to get inside or don’t I? I try the doorknob again just to be sure. It is still locked.
“Abba,” I pray, leaning my forehead against the doorframe, “please open this door.” I pause. “Please open this door!” I pray a little louder. I pull my arm back one more time, thinking I need a different tool. Where are those tools? I locate the household tool bag, hoping the hammer is with them.
I move my plastic grocery bag collection out of the way — the one I am always meaning to recycle at the store — and look down. I am looking at my garden shoes. There in the heel of that garden shoe is a key. One silver, solitary key with no ring. Gasp! “What? What?? WHAT??!!” With the last ‘what’, I am jumping and lifting my arms to heaven, to Abba, to the Wise One, to the One who sees the end from the beginning, to my loving Father forever proving His faithfulness, to the Shepherd who looks out for me, to the Savior who is merciful in my carelessness …to my Friend, who whispered to my heart all those weeks ago to put that key into that shoe (because it also opens the shed), and to the Lover of my soul who waited with a twinkle in His eye for me to discover His premeditated miracle.
~ Stephanie Rogers
~ Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash
