Windows and Doors

They say that sometimes, when God closes a window, it’s just to keep you from jumping off the ledge.

This is the kind of day I had.

I mean to say, it started with the dentist appointments and therapy appointments.

That’s rough enough, right?

But then I had to go to the attorney’s office, which is terrifying even if you are there to get your daughter in the local public school with her siblings or if you are there to save your stolen house.

And we are right in both cases, they said, and we have all the documentation needed.

This is a relief, even if it takes time.

We are grateful for the good attorneys, all for free because of the legal insurance plan at work (which I only clicked to add last year for a few cents each month because of a Hinckley quote about insurance).

We are grateful for good counsel from friends, and Nathan’s parents, and our bishop.

We are grateful for priesthood blessings, which a year ago promised we would be back in the yellow house “for a short period of respite and retreat, where angels will minister and care for you as you recover from the hard years you have endured as a family”.

It has been that. Thank you.

So now we must be careful and wise and prepared and face the door in front of us.

A way up door, too big for just a step, but not quite a window.

This is our life.

So do we go through?

Or wait for door number three?

We couldn’t decide yet because the day wasn’t over.

I had a team meeting for work on my day off, and then had to do a home study for an adoption for my contract work.

That left me leaving Tulsa during the worst traffic, pretty much having missed my whole one day off in two weeks.

Or, maybe that was its own kind of miracle, in a door or window kind of way: getting so much done in a single day without being penalized for missing work. That’s good, right?

So that’s how I met Nathan at the park, after he picked up Alex from social skills group, so the children could play while Nathan and I talked.

And then we talked with Nathan’s parents.

And then we talked with our bishop.

And then we signed the lease for this:

It’s bigger than our yellow house, but almost the same price in our budget.

It will give them more space for growing up, keep us safe while the house drama settles, and lets us stay in the same ward and neighborhood with their providers for all their therapies and home health stuff.

And we can finally stay put for awhile, renting out the yellow house when it’s all said and done.

A tender mercy confirmed in its timing, a blessing of provision when it seemed impossible, and deliverance when it seemed all was lost.

Maybe a little over-dramatic, or not, but that was our day.

In our most recent General Conference, President Uchtdorf said:

God knows your every thought, your sorrows, and your greatest hopes. God knows the many times you have sought Him. The many times you have felt limitless joy. The many times you have wept in loneliness. The many times you have felt helpless, confused, or angry.

Yet, no matter your history–if you have faltered, failed, feel broken, bitter, betrayed, or beaten–know that you are not alone. God still calls to you…

The fires and tumults of mortal life may threaten and frighten, but those who incline their hearts to God will be encircled by His peace. Their joy will not be diminished. They will not be abandoned or forgotten…

Those who heed the inner call and seek God, those who pray, believe, and walk the path the Savior has prepared–even if they stumble along the path at times–receive the consoling assurance that “all things shall work together for [their] good.”

For God “gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”

When we prayed for help, we didn’t know it would come from a family who was my home teacher eight years ago.

When we prayed for deliverance, we didn’t know it would mean a whole extra room just for homeschool.

When we prayed for provision, we didn’t know it would mean an extra bathroom.

We just knew we had promised to take care of these children, and our Father had promised to take care of us.

And so we knocked on that door, and He opened it.

About Emily

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since 2009. I serve as a Chaplain, and work as a counselor. I got bilateral cochlear implants in 2010, but will always love sign language. I choose books over television, and organics over processed. Nothing is as close to flying as ballroom dancing - except maybe running, when in the solo mood. I would rather be outside than anywhere else, especially at the river riding my bike or kayaking. PhD in Marriage and Family Therapy, and currently doing a post-doc in Jewish Studies and an MDiv in Pastoral Counseling. The best thing about Emily World is that it's always an adventure, even if (not so) grammatically precise. The only thing better than writing is being married to a writer. Nathan Christensen and I were married in the Oklahoma City temple on 13 October 2012, and have since fostered more than eighty-five children. We have adopted the six who stayed, and are totally and completely and helplessly in love with our family. Nathan writes musical theater, including "Broadcast" (a musical history of the radio) and an adaption of Lois Lowry's "The Giver". He served his mission in South Korea, has taught song-writing in New York City public schools, and worked as a theater critic for a Tucson newspaper. This is not an official Web site of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

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