This week the daily lectionary took me to a line in Hosea, in the second chapter, the words after the anger and betrayal, which must be dealt with but not here, in this Moment. I came to these words, There I will . . . change a valley of trouble into a door of hope. I loved that line. It struck me deeply. It reminded me of the possibility that lies in each of our geographies, even in a valley of trouble.
It reminded me too of my love of doors and doorways. On my first trip to Europe I was overwhelmed. I knew I would be. I needed a practice to lay down like foot prints in an at-home learn to dance session, something that would hold the awestruck, overwhelmed steps of my heart through the days. I chose to take pictures of doors.
Everyday, at least once, I would make the small comprehensible gesture, take the tiny digital action, that held the larger wonders in place. So, I have many pictures of doors. They still, when I come upon them, open me right up again to the sense of joyful disbelief that I was where I was.
I wonder what small comprehensible gesture, what daily practice, turns you toward a door of hope, allowing you to move whole and held through joy or grief or wonder.