So funny thing about doors, They are both a way to enter and exit. Do you really ever know what is behind door #1 or #2? When I think of doors I feel a so many emotions. Have you ever seen a door and just wondered..."Where does that door lead to?" or "This door makes me nervous!" or even "Who lives there you think?"
I know I have. Doors come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and materials. They are there to cover up something. Keep people out or let them in. Some are old wood and carry a rustic feel or maybe the door you find is newly painted powder blue and leads to your grandmothers house.
They have numbers to tell you who they lead to. Some have big handles, some have small knobs, or even a strange bar you push on to open. Then there are doors made of glass that don't hide anything!
Would that be considered a cocky door?
What about a huge church door with stained glass adorning its middle. Does that door feel safe? Blessed to be the first thing you see in your way to being saved. Maybe it feels cursed to be the door you remember as the entrance to your fathers funeral.
Do you remember a door that changed your life?
one that once you touched it your life at that very moment changed forever?
Are doors the same as books? Can you judge it by it's color, size, or even where that door is?
If you were a door what would you look like?
I know this sounds crazy...But I honestly know what my door would look like.
Close your eyes...Picture my door...
okay, it is an awkward door in shape and size. Almost like someone didn't know how to measure to make it fit the door way. It is not really large or small...seems to be obscure in any idea of size. The door it self is made of solid wood. Old and splintered but smells familiar, like you have walked through this door many times. The paint gives it a rustic feel to the environment. Deep blood red, cracked and pealing in a beautiful way. It speaks volumes to its past. A hard one, one of a weathered atmosphere in a hidden alley way. At the top you see 2 rusty numbers. close to falling off to end up alone and unused on the floor. You can see the one brave nail that is still holding up the first number and the second number is boldly placed centered and yet seems to be trying to lean to one side as if it's being rude to you. The numbers you see here are 13.
The handle is some strange vintage looking hook and loop with a thin chain and lock. Lock is also rusty and is closed just enough appear shut. The entrance for this door is easy. Yet something catches your eye as you study this one truthful door, a small wrinkled note sits at your feet. Upon opening it a crow perches on a ledge slightly above this mysterious door. You then read the note...
two words in all caps:
yeah, that's my door.