Who Can Open the Door?

Yesterday, Rachel and I talked about my door story (published, originally, on myspace in April 2008), and I've decided to share, here.  Clementine has not been bitten by fleas since I prayed over her Wednesday night (although one live flea was spotted in the house, yesterday).  I should've taken a break in my vacuuming and prayed over her earlier than I did!  I doubt she will be bitten, again; after all (as my door story proves), God cares very much about our children's faith!

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Cade, Letterboxing September 2008

Jimmy went to Atlanta for training at the tail end of February. I had keys to the new house and wanted to move as much as possible while he was gone. I had these visions of his returning and being unbelievably proud of me, absolutely stunned at what I'd accomplished.

I loaded the back of my truck the afternoon Jim flew south, and Cade and I drove over to the new house. But I couldn't get the door unlocked! My keys wouldn't turn the deadbolt! I tried to get in until my fingers were red and sore. I punched Jim's number into my cell phone, but he was still on the plane. I tried my friend David's number, but he didn't answer. I called my ex-husband; he was cooking chicken and said he'd try to help in a little while. I called my friend Rachel. She said, "I'll send Scott [her husband] over."

Now, Scott is a manly man. He's one of those guys who works outside all the time, and I believed him when he looked at me and said, "I'll get you in. No problem." But, 45 minutes later, the door was still locked tight. He shook his head and said, "I don't think you're getting in this house without a different key. I thought sure if I pulled or pushed the door a certain way, I'd be able to get you in, but I can't. If Jim calls with a trick, I'll be more than happy to come back over and try again."

I called Alice the realtor. She offered to drive out, but I assured her that--if she didn't have a trick for unlocking the door--she would just be wasting gas. I called my ex-husband and told him not to rush through his dinner; I promised him that, if Scott couldn't get in the house with my keys, no one could. Defeated, Cade and I drove back to the old house and waited for Jim to call.

It started to get dark, and I was afraid the items in the back of my truck would get wet. I looked at Cade and said, "Honey, let's go back over to the new house and put this stuff in the shed. Mommy doesn't want it to get wet, and I don't see the sense of bringing it back into the old house."

Parked in the circular driveway at the new house, I said, "Cade, before we carry this stuff into the shed, Mommy is going to try to unlock the door one more time. But, before I do, let's pray." Cade agreed and bowed his little head, and I prayed aloud that God would help us get into the house. I climbed the porch steps and put my key into the lock. I leaned into the door (no harder than I had fifty times earlier that day), and...it swung open.

Just like that, the door was open!

Cade jumped up and down and said, "I knew it, Mommy! I knew God would open the door if we asked for His help!"

And I thought...what a merciful, splendid Father to take time out of His busy day to open a door for my little boy and me! Then I thought, how wonderful: for the rest of my life, I will be able to look at Cade and say, "But Son, we know God is capable of opening doors that men can't open."

Amen.