I Knock but the Door Opens Not

By Frank Brinkman

At www.icare2b.wordpress.com/

 

I Knock; but the Door Opens Not.

How does one cross over to the other side?

What is the secret of releasing oneself from this mortal being?

I see my dieing Mother wanting so desparately to cross over.

Mother has journeyed long.

Illness has struck her low

And brought her close to the door.

There is no turning around.

The journeys end is nigh.

Waiting for release so intense.

The suffering so great.

"Please help me! I want to die."

My heart breaks as Mom's has.

How can I answer this question?

The answer has been.

"I do not know,

But let me hold your hand

And wait with you."

Let us again share our memories.

Retell family stories.

Relive pain and joys.

Celebrate the good times.

We do not control

The timing, nor the place.

We can, only be, patient.

We can only wait.

Keep searching,

Learn Acceptance.

Keep knocking.

Learn patience.

Joy awaits.

A deep breath.

And then no more.

Good bye, my heart.

Through the Door

By Kathy

www.thetruckerswife.com

The door loomed before me, large and iridescent. It called to me. What would the unknown hold for me? I was intrigued and intimidated at the same time.

I kept walking towards the door in the distance. As I progressed, scenes of my life good and bad replayed in my mind. I felt deep regret for my mistakes as tears formed in my eyes, and jubilation for happier memories which brought a smile. Then I thought about my parents and how deeply I missed them. I thought about their deaths and how Earth shattering they had been. Surely they would be beyond the door? They had to be! Surely I hadn’t waited all this time for this moment and they wouldn’t be there? What if they weren’t? What if I wouldn’t be welcomed? Now I was being stupid. Surely everyone is welcome there by someone?

As I drew closer, the door seemed to glow and radiate a warmth that encompassed me. I began to feel happy and my fears began to drift way. Joy and happiness filled my heart. The headaches that had plagued me were gone. No longer did I feel sick or frightened. The closer I drew to the door, the more my worries began to fade. The door magically began to open revealing a dazzling light that warmed me to my soul. I proceeded on, craving desperately what lay on the other side, even though I had no earthly clue what I would find.

At the threshold I was greeted warmly by both of my parents. Ecstatic, they rushed towards me with their arms outstretched. I raced to them with tears of joy raining down my face. I felt radiant. No longer did I feel tired, sick, inadequate, fat, or a failure. I felt perfectly right. I felt as if I belonged. Their love encompassed me.

Almost instantly I was drawn to the overwhelming presence of Jesus, who embraced me with more love and care than I could ever imagine. He spoke to me and told me I had to go back. My husband and children needed me. My work was not done. I argued that I was useless there, that they could do well without me, and that I wanted to stay. I wanted to be safe with Him, and my parents, forever. I didn’t understand why they had brought me there in the first place. Jesus placed his hands on each of my shoulders and looked me directly in the eye. His face showed so much compassion. He pointed and told me to look. The clouds parted and through the mist I saw my sleeping family that depends on me. “They need their mommy as you need yours!”

I soon understood that I was allowed to travel through the door so I could glimpse what awaited me, and realize that my life did have purpose. I could see my husband and children sleeping peacefully and I began to long to be with them. They needed me and I knew I needed them.

Jesus assured me that I would return when the time was right. Now my place was with my family. My mind filled with questions and doubt. I did not want to leave this beautiful place. I did not want to give up the peace and serenity I felt. Jesus embraced me and reminded me that he would always be with me and my parents are never farther away than my own heart!“ I purposefully walked back through the door. I woke up with a jolt and looked around me disoriented. The house was dark and quiet, and those I held most dear were safe. I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving and drifted back to sleep remembering the door. I know with certainty one day I would find it again, pass through, and stay in the place Jesus had prepared especially for me.

Am I there yet?

By http://www.kristinlately.blogspot.com/

     I started going to counseling when I was in third grade. I would have days when I couldn't stop crying. I felt "depressed" and would miss school. How does a third grader know what the term depressed means, let alone feels like?

     I'm 28 now and most days feel like I am still that sad, lonely third grader trying to make sense of her life and the purpose for her next breath. I don't know how all this ever got started. Abuse? Neglect? Genetics? Ignorance is bliss.

     I take medication for anxiety and depression, off and on for about 12 years now. 12 years? In 12 years, people become doctors, lawyers, parents, world travelers... But me? I've been taking medication. Does this count as something?

     I see a counselor these days, pretty regularly. Lately I don't feel like it's been much more than small talk with someone who's come to know some private details about my life. "I'm f****d up, lady! Can't you tell? And you're just gonna let me open this door and leave your office?" I'm fragile and broken, barely holding all these mismatched pieces together. "You're just gonna let me leave?"

     It's nightime, my nightime, 7pm and I climb into bed. Got to get to bed early. Today was exhausting, just like yesterday. I opened the door to everywhere, only to go nowhere and be reminded once again how much I really want third grade to end.

The Unbelievable Excuse

By Glen Staples

www.glenslife.com

It had all been so innocent, so normal; nothing to worry about, nothing to see.

It was just another day, just another nothing.

I looked into my son’s eyes and demanded an explanation for his brother’s current distress. With amusement and pride I watched as the cogs whirred, while a cunning excuse formed on his lips...

Apparently my eldest child had earlier been pondering the inequalities of the world, specifically the unfairness of Dictatorships and the resulting hunger and famine found among the poorer classes within. Eventually, my young crusader had made a decision to do something about it. What he had decided to do was to liberate some sweets from the fascist regime in charge of the house, and share them out to ‘the people’ instead.

The plan was as intelligent as it had been simple, Daniel would free the treats from the tin on the high shelf, and then share them out to the poor kids in town who would otherwise never know what is so ‘fun’ about a fun size Mars bar.

To get to the tin, Daniel had needed to balance two chairs on top of each other and climb up them; Daniel did the climbing while Jamie was roped into the scheme to hold them steady.

However, the chairs had not proven to be as reliable a platform as hoped, and just as Daniel had reached the tin, the makeshift ladder had tumbled down on top of Jamie, sending both Daniel and the sweet tin flying.

CRASH-BANG-SMASH

Fearing that both the noise and the resulting mess would cause their plan to be discovered before they were able to complete the important part of distributing the treats to the proletariat, Daniel quickly ran around the room collecting the sweets and hiding them in his pockets.

Jamie, meanwhile, was still stuck under the chairs but had freed an arm and grabbed the tin. In order to try and refill it, however, Jamie needed to free his other arm which was proving difficult and, in the confusion, the process resulted in him banging his own head with the tin.

BANG!

Fearing for both his brother’s health and the security of the mission, Daniel ran over to help. My son had to think quickly because both of his pockets and his two hands were full of treats, preventing him from assisting the stricken youngster.

With his mind working at a furious pace, Daniel emptied his hands by swiftly stuffing the chocolate into his mouth, allowing an attempt to grab the tin from his younger sibling. Daniel feared that Jamie could hurt himself quite badly, so he lunged and tried hard to prise the container out of his hands, but the deceptively strong little one continued pulling on it, resulting in yet more smacks to the head.

Daniel was very worried about accidentally hurting his little mate, so with a mouthful of chocolate he thoughtfully warned…

“LET GO OF THE TIN OR I WILL HIT YOU WITH IT AGAIN!”

And that…

Was when I opened the door…

Open the door



By Layla Morgan Wilde

At LaylaMorganWilde.com



**We regret that Layla's post was not online yesterday, however, there was an issue with Google's Blogger that was not foreseen.**  

The Pantry

By Joanne

http://10minutes2breathe.blogspot.com/

Editor's Note:  **Spoiler Alert!!**  Read at your own risk!

I was 8 and I had my doubts.

But I would find out
once and for all.

Mom was finally gone.

       I had exactly 5 or 6 minutes.

              She was going downstairs
              to our neighbor's and said
              she would be right back.

I had my suspicions; and what did my Mom always say? Oh yeah, "The truth shall set you free."

That little line would always push me to own up to any wrongdoings.

       But this time...I was making that statement.

              I would set them free whether they wanted to be or not.

I listened by the front door...she was well down the stairs by then. I turned and headed toward the kitchen. There in that small apartment kitchen was a door to the pantry. On the other side would be my answer.

                                 
I turned the knob slowly.
I opened the door...

There was nothing! Just tons of packages of paper towel and canned goods...phew that was close. I thought that all the rumors were true, but imagine my joy when I found out they weren't. Now I could relax and take it eas--


              What's this?

There was something behind the tall packages of paper towels. There was cardboard.

When I peeked behind the cardboard, my heart sank.

My joy had been short-lived.
The fantasy had been ripped from me by my own doing.

There, behind the door...
were all my Christmas presents!

If the Key Fits

by Redgirl

www.snippitsrevealed.blogspot.com

“And so I opened the door –“

“Wait, wait!” he interrupted, uncrossing his legs from their casual position and sitting forward in the chair with his soles firmly pressed to the carpet. “What happened before that? Where was the door?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “In the house, obviously. That’s where doors are.”

His thin lips took on a petulant angle. Thin lips, thin legs, thinning hair, which he ran his hands through with his head bowed. He looked up, fixed me with smoky, slate eyes. “I came for the whole story – and you will tell it to me. I will not be denied.”

I turned my head to hide my triumph. Oh, I would tell him.

“I was your average small-town inhabitant. Worked at the bookstore during the day, kept an eye out for someone to share the nights. Could always use a little extra cash, so I answered the post in the paper. It seemed too good to be true.” I laughed; unable to quell the bitterness.

“Well, I was young and foolish. I went to help someone sort out papers in the old manor on the hill, in the middle of the wood that even as youngsters, we knew never to go to. NightHawk Manor. Sounded so romantic…dangerous though. Perfect for enticing…

“Anyway, it was just to be for a Saturday. The ad had mentioned going through a relative’s personal effects, organization and such. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I’m a private person, don’t like to put my business about the town.

“The house was, well, like any grand yet slowly shambling mansion—smelled kinda musty inside.”

He leaned forward with eagerness sparking his eyes to interesting from obscurity. “Who let you inside? Was it Falconer himself?”

With feigned surprise, I jerked back, the manacles on my ankles refusing to release their tether to the table leg. I winced as I felt the raw patches get a little more raw. “Can’t you take this off? It’s so uncomfortable.” I leaned forward and touched the back of the hand that rested with stiff tension on the pine table.

My interrogator pulled it back quickly. Good for him, not forgetting what happened when people got too close. “Don’t try that again,” he said. “You’re decreasing your chances of having a visitor again.”

“Fine.” I said. “If you must know, it was unlocked. There was an envelope on the table with my name on it. Inside was a letter…and a key.” I started to rock back on my chair legs. “I love keys.”

I could see him losing his patience, about to leave, so I continued. “The note said he was out, that I should get started. That the key would fit the door that I was to being work in. I started to look. It was like a treasure hunt.”

“Didn’t you find it all a bit odd?” He asked. “I mean, an ad in the paper, a letter, a mysterious key? Someone you never saw?”

I gave him my best look of scorn. “Of course it was! It was mysterious! An adventure! A treasure hunt…and there was the key. I was hooked.  After the first floor, the novelty started to wear off. After the second floor, I started to get annoyed. When I began trying the third floor, I was angry. So angry that I forgot to be careful. And when the key fit, I opened the door.”

“Once you open the door, you cannot open it again. When you have found the house, you cannot find it again. And when you have lost what you had, it cannot be yours again. Unless….”

“Unless what? What, damn you!”

“You could get it. If I tell you how, you can get me mine, but you can have all the others’ too.”

I could see his excitement. “Great treasure?”

“The greatest treasures of the world.”

“Tell me how.”

And I told him. I told him how to find the house, to use the key. And how to open the door. A door that once opened would loose my soul and claim his in its place. And keep it there until he could find someone as he was years before. As I was centuries before.

I smiled.

Waiting.

A Message from the Founder's Keyboard

     Welcome!  It's always a pleasure for me to greet the beginning of a new month because here at RBU: The Group Blog I know that means there are some fabulous posts that will be appearing on our site.  And this month is no different except for the fact that we didn't have nearly as many submissions as we've had in months past.  Perhaps it's simply the season...after all, if you happen to live anywhere north of the equator, you're well into the busy spring season and are busy running around in preparation of the arrival of the lazy days of summer.  Likewise, if you make your home on the southern side of  this beautiful Earth, autumn is quickly creeping into winter and you've no doubt been hustling and bustling to be ready for the chill of winter.

     Of course, it could also be that the sparkle of blogging has worn off for some of our members.  Sometimes the thrill of pressing that 'publish' button loses the oomph it used to have because we feel like we've said all there is to say and we're just rehashing our thoughts.  And there are those times when we  wonder is anyone actually reading my work because that little 'follow' button has been stuck at the same number for months.  Adding to this are the moments when we wonder is devoting so much time to blogging really worth it since it can be discouraging when the comments that used to roll in like the tide seem to come less frequently.

     Be honest...haven't there been times when you felt that way?

     Sure you have.  It happens...to all creative people every now and again because it takes a lot to mentally pour oneself into an activity like blogging week in and week out.  And knowing that literally the whole world can see all your virtual artistic blood, sweat, and tears with the click of a button simply adds to the stress of being 'good, in top form, and always better than the last post'.  Somehow I'll bet Shakespeare felt the same way every time he finished his sonnets and plays because he probably thought 'how will I top this one?'  And surely Picasso said to himself, 'that one had three boobs...does that mean I've gotta paint  four for the next one?'

    Oh yes, there is stress...but I promise it's the good kind of stress.  Nothing beats that adrenaline rush we feel when we know 'this is good' except when someone else tells us 'that wasn't good...it was great!'  And here at RBU:TGB that's what we are all about...lifting not just the awareness that there are some great blogs floating out there in Ethernetland...but also reminding bloggers that their words have impact especially when they might think no one cares.  We do!

     I truly hope this month is just a dry month because 'life got in the way of the fun our members had with blogging' instead 'blogging was getting in the way of having a fun life.'

     But on a happier note...I'm glad to say that the submissions we got this month are, as always, top notch.  And our hook of a theme 'I opened the door...' generated some very interesting interpretations.  I do hope you'll drop by again to find out what our members said was on the other side of the door and why they opened it!