I really don’t know what to do

I really don’t know what to do

 

 door knob

 

Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.

     Emily Dickinson

I really don’t know what to do.

She reached out to us with these words, plaintive and despairing.  She feels lost, alone.  She is uncertain if a dawn will come to her again.  But still she reached out anyway, hoping, longing for the light to return to her heart.  In the midst of too many closed doors, slammed too many times in her face, still she tries one more in the hope that it will open, that she can walk through.  Out of the darkness, into the light.  Away from the pain, toward some comfort. 

Too often there is the inclination to retreat into our own rooms, behind doors that keep us locked up, that hide our loneliness and our fear, that keep others out, that keep us in. 

So often it’s because we have been judged, ridiculed, labeled, criticized.  Made to feel shame. 

Why do we do that to each other? 

Why must we condemn so strongly and readily? 

What is it that compels us to slam shut the doors of grace, compassion and empathy for each other in our human need and pain?

For when we do we cause people to retreat and sometimes they never reach out again. 

Behind doors that are locked, and the keys thrown away. 

 

 

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