We all have doors we want

to close, don't we?

If we don't slam them immediately, then at some time or another,

on down the road, we know we'll eventually close certain doors. Right?

Wrong.

We are what we are. No influence that has touched us ever goes away. From

the cradle to the grave we are becoming. We are one with what touches

us.

Last week, I ran into a first cousin while I was down in Columbus. Just

walked right smack dab into her at Minnie's (about the best eatery

in town for down home cooking at lunch time).

I had not seen Teresa for years. That happens when you have as many cousins

as I do and when you let time get away from you.

We reminisced over lunch. I told her about the upcoming T. Graham Brown

concert at The Gospel Barn in LaGrange and how I'd wanted to hear

him for more than 12 years and how certain I was that I finally was going

to be able to close some doors.

She laid down her fork, looked at me, straight into my eyes, and said,

"I don't think we ever get to do that."

I could hardly swallow after her comment.

There was a pause in our conversation while the four of us absorbed the

weight of her words. We both had a friend with us, friends who were somewhat

lost, I suppose, as Teresa and I talked about our past and the pain that

never goes away.

One of eight children, she has lost three siblings. She was once in a

bad automobile accident in which her sister died while Teresa lived. Another

sister died from cancer. A year later that sister's son died in an

auto accident. And, before all that, a brother had died in an accident.

The year her mom died (the same year my dad died) Teresa had decided that

God surely would heal Joy (the sister with cancer); so certain she was

that He would not take her sister and her mother during the same year.

Wrong.

We can be assured of very little when it comes to knowing what God will

and will not do. But that very little makes all the difference.

What is that assurance?

We can be certain that God loves us. No matter what. He is not threatened

and loves us unconditionally.

Then it becomes a relationship thing. A matter of coming to the end of

ourselves. The end of going it alone, of doing it by ourselves. And a

realization that we get back what we put into it.

It's not what, why, when, or even how, that really matters in life.

It's who. Who are we sharing it all with? Who do we talk to every

day? Who supports us and loves us and is always there for us?

You may think you have no one. You may be able to name a dozen or more

folks. But, there again, it's who you are naming that counts.

The most romantic weddings end in divorce more often than we want to admit.

Friends move away. Parents pass on. Siblings die. Loved ones can be gone

in an instant. There is only one constant. And that is God's unconditional

love for us. His desire to walk with us, talk with us, let us lean on

Him, let Him care for us.

But it's our choice.

Always, it's our choice. He made us in His image. He understands.

He's proud of what we do and the wisdom we show when we choose not

to do certain things. He doesn't want to take away our right to make

choices, or enjoy and experience life in a thousand ways.

Not at all. He just wants to share it with us.

Think about it.

Why did God need man? Whatever you perceive God to be, surely you must

recognize Him as the creator. And if we are created in His image, as I

believe we are, then we share with Him a desire for relationships.

Think I'm way off on this one? Think again. Could it be that God

wants our love and companionship just as much as we need His?

I didn't get to close the doors I wanted to close, but I realized

something at the T. Graham Brown concert. I realized there's never

been a door though which God did not walk with me. And I know now that

that's enough. More than enough.