Leave The Door Open

Woke up in the night and there was the memory of my cats Chloé and Raphael, who accompanied me on my separation and divorce into my new life in 2001, then had to be given up for adoption when I moved in with my parents a year later. To me, their adoption was the single most miraculous event of my life, with my return from death’s door and meeting Michael as close seconds. Yet, I bear still the guilt of their abandonment by me in their old age. My grief has not allowed me to see the bigger picture of what might have served the greater good. I lay there remembering Ms. Ptolemy, the gentle and beautiful angel advocate and rescuer of abandoned animals, her ethereal presence and quiet strength, and the wound I could still see in her. I remember the young studen couple from BC, Jody, who was studying at CCNM, her beautifull spirit and love for my cats who she had never met but took into her life on faith. I feel freshly still the guilt of not telling them about Raph’s marking problem, when they had been so trusting and kind. Please forgive me, Chloé and Raphael and Candace and Jody and Jody’s boyfriend, I was so afraid and so vulnerable, yet so struck open by the synchronous way Life takes care of us, when we allow her to. It is nearly 10 years later now, but I want to give thanks for this wondrous thing that happened to me, to all of us, and remember always, to allow.

Truly, it has always been these times when I’ve thrown up my hands and/or fallen down on my knees literally in utter desperation, crying tears of helplessness and exhaustion, that I’ve finally let go of my grip on my doorknob to control, and when hope is but a sputtering flicker, Life walked in and made beautiful stories of my life. I struggle still with keeping my hands off the doorknob, sometimes I have to pry it off with my other hand, but I like to think I am more conscious of it now at least.

Leave the door open, so angels can come in.