For centuries, the imagery and poetic use of the door has been significant in many literary, religious and spiritual works to mean the start of something new, changes, transitions into new worlds, a threshold to pass, a choice - a beginning - an ending. It is not a new or especially complicated concept but “the door” is something we have all come up against in our lifetime - symbolically and functionally. And of course, it is those parabolic doors that lead to the greatest, most important journeys of the soul.
In C.S Lewis’ “Alice in Wonderland,” after falling down the rabbit hole, Alice is faced with many choices represented by a long corridor of doors. Curiosity spurring her on, Alice finds a key and begins trying each door - frustration and fear mounting as the task seems endless and futile. Surprised when one finally fits the lock and opens to a beautiful garden through a door she cannot fit through, desire and impossibility of “something beyond reach” enshrouds her. The adventure continues - as do her limitations when she finds a bottle of potion labeled “Drink me” and risks downing it, unsure of the effects - oh, decisions, decisions. As she shrinks to an ideal size to fit through the door, she realizes quite emphatically (you do remember she cried a vat of tears here!) that she has left the key on the table high above her - missed opportunity and regret. Feeling small and stupid for her error, she finds the tiny, perfect cake. “Eat me” it beckons in pretty icing, and here she develops into a tall and awkward girl too large to fit the opening anymore - some doors are just not meant for us to go through. Each door, each metaphor revealing to Alice what cannot be changed, what is her present circumstance - and a future of unknowns. What is beyond her control, what is in her reach if she has the courage to go for it and the wisdom she indeed possesses to know what to take with her - and what to leave behind -never going through the door, understanding, in the end, that it is not the right one for her.
Another lesson of the door is heartwarmingly tucked into the holiday song, “The Christmas Guest,” written by Helen Steiner Rice (and, which upon a deep dive of its origin, is inspired by many sources including Russian author, Leo Tolstoy’s story, “Where Love Is, There God is Also,” and Matthew’s gospel of the bible, Chapter 25, the Parable of the Sheep and Goats.) The verses of this particular carol weave together the narrative of Conrad, an old shop keeper of a meager establishment hoping to catch a glimpse of God at his door after dreaming one night, a message from the Lord, that he would appear on the day of Christmas. With little money for even himself, he set to work through the night fashioning together boughs of greens and holly, cleaning his shop, making it fit for the divine appearance. With hope and light shining from his eyes, he awaits the arrival of a most magnificent and holy guest. Conrad, the classic human character, alone in the world, spending each Christmas with only the memories of loved ones passed and feeling the hope of the oncoming presence of God in his humble and tiny world to which he’d devoted himself.
Filled with joy, for surely this Christmas was to be the best yet, Conrad approaches the door at first knock only to find a lowly beggar with shabby clothes and ragged shoes standing in the cold snow. Inviting him in, he gives the beggar shoes and a coat before leaving again - the beggar, now full of gratitude and hope that love still dawns in a world cruel enough to leave some with nothing and others with so much.
The next stranger knocks soon after, just a woman laden with kindling on her back and tired from a life of hard work and labour, she asks only to sit and rest a while. Conrad is touched by her simple plea and offers her a spot to rest her weary bones as he prepares for her the mug and food intended for the Lord.
The day was growing dimmer, like the hope in Conrad’s heart, that his guest may not appear, as the final knock comes and Conrad is certain it must be God but this time, it is only a child who has lost its way and Conrad is crushed by his own disappointment. But he wipes away the child’s tears, provides comfort for her fears and leads her home safely. Returning to his own threshold, now heavy with sorrow, Conrad must cross it and return to the familiarity of a lonely night once more. When he retires to bed, Christmas hours having come and gone, he kneels faithfully and asks the Lord, “why didn’t you come visit me as you said you would?”
And in the stillness came the answer (as it always does):
“Lift up your head for I kept my word
Three times my shadow crossed your floor
And three times I came to your lowly door
I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet
And I was the woman you gave something to eat
I was the child on the homeless street
Three times I knocked, and three times I came in
And each time I found the warmth of a friend
Of all the gifts, love is the best
And I was honored to be your Christmas Guest”
(~ Helen Steiner Rice)
In Conrad’s sweet story, we are reminded that God shows up everywhere and in every One of us; not often clear as day or dignified in any special way but ever-present and always asking us to listen for the knock and answer with the same love for one another here on earth that we reserve for the mystical and divine figures we hold so high. The kingdom of Heaven is not something beyond us but attainable right here and now if we can open our hearts - and doors -to it.
And so it is, that nearly a year ago today, a transformative knock would come on my own door, so irreversibly and eternally significant that I am not the same person I was before answering it. For though we may be aware upon waking each day of the possibility that life will change, we cannot know which day or in what ways our lives will be altered forever.
As I stared at the man standing in front of me at the door on June 15, 2022, composed but unmistakably fumbling gently with the flowers in his hands and the words his mouth was forming, I knew in my soul with unexplainable truth and clarity, exactly what was about to unfold as he asked me, eyes watering and threatening to spill over:
“Allie, do you know you have a sister?”
Launching into the task of squeezing nearly twenty years of confusion, secrecy, wondering and yearning into one answer and how I had “just been thinking of her three days ago”, he paused my entangled response with,
“I think you better tell her all this. My wife is your sister, Wendy. She is in the car right now if you would like to meet her. And Allie, three days ago when you were thinking about her - that was her birthday.”
So here it was. Just over two decades later after first learning that I was not just one of two girls but in fact, one of three sisters, I was meeting Wendy, the nearly-unspoken-of-baby and my full sister born 13 years earlier than me to my mom and dad. A needle in a haystack - and too many coincidences, overlaps and synchronicities to count - I had been found.
And now, a year later, that knock on my door and the doors I have gone knocking on thereafter, the significance of it all still unraveling with the unpredictable toddling this way and that of a ball of yarn undoing itself across the floor, has led me to eternal lessons, soul growth - and, to God.
For it has been in the contrasts of the highest exaltation and amazement that this miracle, this truest desire of my heart to meet and know my sister, Wendy, would occur in the same breath that our meeting has caused pain and suffering, loss and grief, as wounds open up like blossoms chancing to see sun after years of darkness and then turning in on themselves woefully, unsure of their strength to bear the light of day. I now know the pain in our lives we blame and curse “God” for is the very agony necessary for us to call out in the darkest night of our soul, “Oh God, why? What am I to do? If this was meant for me, why has it hurt another?” and in the stillness comes the comfort and offer of an unconditional, forgiving and compassionate, merciful divine parent, “give your pain to me, give it all to me, and I will show you the way.” The reminder that we are never alone.
God’s contrasts continue to show up in the easy, unspoken knowings that sisters can share despite opposite upbringings and environments. In genes and nuances that produce uncanny similarities to women who have never been in a room together before. In a relationship that at once holds a loving, gravitational pull towards one another and the necessity for tepid, slow footsteps to nurture the newness and immaturity of a budding friendship and provide moments of healing and forgiveness along the way. In the need for time and experience to build trust and forge a relationship that will be filled with memories to a desperate sense of lost days and time gone by, not knowing what the future will bring and not wanting to waste another moment. The paradox of a story that brings deep and authentic hurt to a few yet invites loving wishes, sharing, connections and embraces from so many more.
Ours, Wendy and mine, is a love story; divine in nature. God’s character revealed in the contrasts. For no love story ever was without loss, without beginning and ending; without spaces for love to fill every corner and rejection and refusal where love is blocked and has nowhere to go, turning into grief and sadness. A love story where light will shine out in the darkness and hope is enough to propel us forward.
In the year since opening my door to a seeming stranger and discovering more family and friends than I could have imagined to love and share this life with, I have turned to prayer and stillness, known forgiveness and deep unconditional love. I know everything is temporary, that our relationships can change on the surface, that some are not meant to go the distance, and that we are all connected and truly One. That none of us are separate and God is in all of us, showing up in the contrasts, knocking on our doors waiting patiently forever for us to be ready to open it. That your pain is mine, our suffering as a whole is each of ours to bear personally - and that, when love is set as the intention, then whatever non-linear, hidden and winding paths we go on will always lead us to our highest self, truth, beauty and goodness.
Like old Conrad who’d wished and hoped his eyes to fall upon the face of the Lord, I have held quiet hope in my heart that for whatever reason each of our tears fall, they fall because of love and that God has shown up in all ways knowing that timing is divine, paths are not made in straight lines and that each one of us will find that which we are seeking when we are ready:
“Ask and it will be given to you. Seek and you will find. Knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7)
And Alice in Wonderland, who outgrew through her journey, childish fears and silly ideals, who learned there were some things she no longer needed and would be taking care of herself in other ways from now on, but did not lose her childlike wonder and curiosity, imagination and belief in magic, I too am learning that some doors are opportunities I am willing to explore while other doors must stay closed, for now. And I know, deeply, that miracles and magic happen every day.
Receptivity, openness and forgiveness - so often they are the keys necessary to unlocking the door on our hearts - to fear, to magic, to the unknown - and to the realms of possibility and limitlessness. When the knock of opportunity to know yourself, open your arms and heart to others and ultimately, connect with God, comes calling upon Your door, will you choose to answer it?
By Allie, on June 12, 2023
If you would like to receive, from time to time, an email from me with this content and more, please email me at soulcoach@allieideca with "ADD ME" in the subject line.