Locked Doors & Abandoned Rooms

Today I unlocked the door to a long unused room in my heart.

My heart pounds in anticipation of what I will find here. I remember so much about this room. There was so much joy here. Love and laughter. Tears, also, but mostly laughter. It was a bright sunny space with many happy memories.

My heart sinks as the door opened. The room is dark and cold. I choke on the thick cloud of dust swirled up from the opening door. I tip-toe across to open the window and let in the light.

My eyes brim with tears as I survey the scene before me.

The furniture is covered with sterile white sheeting. The pictures have been taken off the walls and lined face down along the walls. The paint is cracked and peeling.

The neglect is appalling.

Then I notice something else. Several of the pictures are not just laid by, they have been hurled across the room and left laying, shattered, where they fell. Mixed in with dust on the floor are tear stains and a few blood stains as well.

Suddenly, the other memories flood back in. The pent up anger and jealousy that led to throwing the pictures across the wall. The loneliness and despair that had led to the slow, painful lock down of the room.

The summer there was no longer time for me.

The winter I was replaced.

I stand for a moment, just remembering. I remember the days coming here in tears. I remember the months spent carefully covering the furniture. I remember the day I locked the door not sure when I would return.

Somehow, this neglect and hopelessness seems so much worse. Worse than the rooms I have burned to the ground in my anger. Just down the hall, a door opens to embers and charred beams, but I feel no remorse for that.

My tears well over, I can not help them. This systematic lock down and neglect. I did this. I did it on purpose.

This hurts worse, I feel worse about this room, because this room matters. It was and still is important.

I walk to door. Now a decision must be made.

Do I stay? Do I try to patch that which has been broken and neglected?

Part of me says "No, close the door and walk away." This is the lonely, tired and cynical side of me.

My hope says, "Do not give up. Not yet. It has been a long time, but all is not lost."

My hand is on the doorknob already.

O Father, what do I do?