You know how the saying goes, don’t you? “When God closes a door, He opens a window.” You heard it said as a child in the face of disappointment. You said it to a friend when they questioned why a good thing had to end. Perhaps you even whispered it to yourself in an effort to drum up a sense of hope in the face of abandonment.

My life has been a continual movement in opening and closing of doors. When I look back however, I tend to see more closed doors than opened windows. I remember the slamming sound more than the soft and quiet opening of something new.

I experienced this most recently late last Thursday night while waiting for my flight with a cup of Baskin-Robbins ice cream in my hands.  (Yes, it was a spontaneously declared Ice Cream for Dinner Night. After all, I was on vacation!) As I waited for the flight, I realized just how much I needed this trip. The past couple of months had been physically and emotionally exhausting. My heart was quivering with it’s own needs, so long told to wait in the course of life’s events. My creativity had diminished over time and I knew that traveling would bring it back.

“I can feel the sense of adventure slowly finding me,” I texted my sister as began to unburden my heart in the wait to board.

And just like that – I found myself jumping from my seat and waiting in one long line after another to recover my ticket from a cancelled flight and to try – in-vain – to book another and salvage my trip. 

The door to this trip was closed. I heard it slam extra loudly with the Uber car door as the driver brought me safely home in the middle of the night. “For some reason, I wasn’t meant to take this trip,” I mused as my head hit the pillow, too tired for tears, “But what could that reason be? I needed this trip!”

We all know the sound of that door slamming in our face. And the echo of the minutes, months, and often years that seem to follow. I have a sneaky suspicion that this is true for most of us. We look back and remember the moments of panic that ensued when something big in our lives ended. . . a job, a relationship, an activity, and even the chance to live out our dreams.

This wasn’t the first time I had a door slam in my face. The first one looked like the front door on my New Jersey home as my parents drove us over a thousand miles into the Midwest for a new opportunity. It looked like the office door that shut behind me after quitting a job where I was surrounded by some of the people I loved the most and thought I might never see again. The door shut more softly on the religious life, as I learned that even with my newly opened heart and appreciation for the call as a spouse of Christ, it was not meant for me.

In those moments, I looked for the proverbial window and sometimes, it was nowhere to be seen. Dear sisters – what if I told you I think we are mixing up our windows and doors?

I believe the “doors” I described from my life above were not actually doors. A door is something we walk through, in which we find a new world, and to which we advance when we move toward something new. A door is an open opportunity and invitation to walk into a place of growth. Whereas, a window is simply a glance into another world beyond where we are currently standing and thriving. It is is a limited opening meant for observing. We cannot walk through a window. 

Life really is a series of doors and windows, opening and closing at the grace and inspiration of the Holy Spirit. Perhaps the closed doors mentioned above in my life had been doors at one time. But when they closed, they were simply windows, closing me off from places that I no longer belonged; places in which I wasn’t going to thrive. I know this because of what followed, every single time…

In the story of my cancelled trip, I found God’s hand in reviving my spirit. For three days following the late night Uber ride, I slept in, went to mass, went grocery shopping, exercised, cleared a tree in my brother’s backyard, spent extra time in Adoration, read a book, watched the leaves fall down in the nearby park, and baked bread. It doesn’t sound like anything spectacular, but with every movement of tending to my life and home, my soul began to rest.

And then, it began to fly. Just like that – my creativity came back – a slow and soft opening into something new. A door opened and I found the rest I needed – perhaps, in the way I needed it the most.

Every time I heard the sound of something closing, no matter how loud and frightening it seemed, something far far greater awaited me in the aftermath. Life in the Midwest was the best thing that could have happened to the 10 year old New Jersey girl. The job I said goodbye to was followed by another with more relationships waiting to be made and kept, just as the other friendships had been kept and grown. And the things I learned about love – true, sacrificial spousal love – as a result of my discernment to the religious life, set my heart on a continuing path toward my vocation.

The next time we hear our window closing, with a giant “no” in our face, dear friends, let’s get ready to thrust open a door nearby. A door into something beautiful and new – full of life and opportunity awaiting us on the other side. Let’s put aside the echo of the slamming sound and listen intently instead, for the softly spoken invitation to turn a handle, thrust open a door, and walk into an unknown “yes” with trust. 

The door might not look like much at first glance. It might be plain, small, or barred. It might be quaint, classic, or majestic. But the details do not matter. What matters is that we hold the key and decide just how we will open them…

Will we peek through them in fear of what lies on the other side? Keep our ear to it for awhile in the hope of hearing what might be on the other side? Or, will we throw them open with confidence in our Savior’s promise, “Behold, I make all things new”?

Yours, Mary

Faith, here 🙂 …I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on the story of ‘the widow’s offering’ as told in last Sunday’s Gospel (Mark 12:41-44):

^” Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

When most of us hear the phrase “she gave everything”—we think of the big things, the medical doctor who dropped it all to become a missionary in a foreign country, those who bravely forfeited their lives in martyrdom out of love for their faith… “everything” feels like such a big, unreachable concept to most of us living in the humdrum of our day to day lives.

I think that’s why, for many years, I read this Gospel story and, while moved by the widow’s generosity, never felt that I could claim solidarity with her or know what it is to give out of my poverty- I have always been very blessed when it comes to having my needs met.

Yet, when we look at our lives a little more closely , a little more through the eyes of Christ, we may see things differently….we find that we have the opportunity, more often than we realize, to imitate this generous widow in the way that she gives…out of her poverty, from her own places of need.

To my dear sisters who give from your poverty-

to the sleep deprived mother who, despite her own utter exhaustion from all that this vocation asks of her, stays awake long into the night to tend to her sick child,

to the teacher who stays after class to encourage and pour into the struggling student, who gives the time she doesn’t have to make an investment into another,

to the college student overwhelmed by responsibility who, despite her growing to do list, spends an hour in adoration to pray for those she loves,

to the woman experiencing loneliness who takes the time to comfort a friend with a hurting heart, even as her own aches within her,

to the woman in her season of waiting who chooses to sing praise even as her hope wearies,

to the women who’s ministries have sprung from their woundedness, those who have lost children and spouses and mothers and fathers, who have every right to mourn yet who use their proximity to pain to bring empathy and healing to others,

to the woman worn down by the weight of her own cross, who sees the need in the life of another and meets it even as her tired heart cries out “I have nothing left to give”-

To you, this giving may feel small, “ordinary”, perhaps even meaningless, but to Jesus who sees to the depths of you, it means everything.

And when this happens, when we give in this way, we are graced with understanding in a tangible way that Jesus IS sufficient, that He IS enough- even when we are not.

Oh- how learning this, how understanding it, how accepting its truth to the deepest fiber of our beings can transform our lives.

The belief that we CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens us becomes a tangible sign of His might and power- when we give that which should empty us completely only to find that still more remains.

When that wise and generous widow gave up her last two coins, she knew what she was doing was not merely an act of generosity, but one of trust. She gave everything because she trusted completely. She held nothing back because she did not fear the vulnerability it would require.

In so many ways, her generosity mirrors that of our blessed Mother- who held nothing back from her Father, not even her own life. She gave her “yes”, she surrendered all that she had…and out of over poverty, God raised our Salvation.

What about us, sisters? We all have places of poverty. We all have needs. And often, I think, we are more generous than we realize.

But the question we need to ask ourselves is- do we let Christ in to those places of poverty? Do we welcome Him into our moments and seasons of need? Do we recognize that we have the power to give everything away, even in the chaos and lackluster of our ordinary lives? Do we do so joyfully because we trust that our God is who He says He is?

I pray that we will.  That we will look at our hearts, and our lives, and all that we give through new eyes- so we can see the places God is working to transform and sustain us.

Let us put in everything and watch as from our poverty, God brings forth abundance.