“When one door closes another door opens.” I’ve heard many people say that. I’m not sure that I agree with that sentiment. Let’s be honest: there are times in life when all the doors seem to be nailed shut and there’s no way out. That said, there are indeed times when it’s because things have come to an end in one context that something new can come to life. Sometimes, the ending is bitter even though the next phase of life works out well.
That’s how it was for me when I moved from Miami, Florida to start over again in Tucson, Arizona. I was forty years old. The counseling agency where I was the clinical director went belly-up. There was a problem with the director of development and his handling of money which left the agency unable to make payroll. In addition, the new church I started was going well enough in terms of attendance and finances, but several members became divisive over a range of issues. As the church wasn’t paying me and the job at the counseling agency that did pay me was gone, I felt very overwhelmed. Despite my commitment to the work I had done, I felt that there was no reason for me to stay in Miami. Through a series of unexpected events, I relocated across the country to Tucson to start over again.
I attempted to approach life a bit differently when I started over in Tucson. While I was invited to get involved in several programs, I hung back to get my bearings. I focused on the spiritual dimension of my life over that first year. I prayed at a monastery, went for long walks in the desert, and embraced a renewed sense of solitude. That led to experiencing my day to day activities in ways that enriched my life and gave me a deep sense of wellbeing. It was during those years that I made friends with several Native American people and was invited into ceremonies by traditional healers. It was also in Tucson that I met my life companion and partner. You see, the door closed in Miami. But I didn’t rush to find another open door. Instead, I carefully knocked on a few and didn’t walk through the first ones that opened to me. I took my time and waited for the door that was right for me.
Sometimes, the ability to live in a way that’s better for us happens when we’ve cleared our lives of things that keep us so busy that we can’t see what’s going on. In Miami, I was so busy that I lost who I was. But in Tucson, there was a coming home to self that was very significant for me.
Forty days after Easter, Christians mark what’s known as the Ascension of Jesus. The sacred story of the Christian tradition conveys that on this 40th day, Jesus left his followers and ascended into heaven. I’m not going to claim to know what that really means, but I want to suggest something of its significance. For the followers of Jesus to grow into their full potential and become teachers in their own right, Jesus had to go. His departure was difficult for them. They lost their teacher and beloved companion. But if he hadn’t gone, they would have continued to be what they were: a group of followers. After he left, they became a group of teachers sharing the insights into life that they learned from Jesus.
Perhaps it will be like that for us in this pandemic. Many of us have given up a variety of things. For some, it’s been very difficult. We wonder when things will return to the way they were. I don’t think our lives will ever be like they were before. Honestly, I hope they aren’t. Perhaps because of this pandemic, in two years, five years, or ten years, we’ll be able to live together in ways that are better for all of us. Perhaps we’ll become better individuals and better communities. Only time will tell. But often, to find a better way requires letting go of ways that just don’t work for us. There’s pain in letting go. But without the pain of letting go, we won’t experience something new.
“When one door closes another door opens.” Perhaps. But I prefer to think of it in this way: there are times we need to let go of what we’ve clung to in order to discover something better for us. Yes, I believe that something better waits for us.
Photo by George Desipris on pexels.com
