A Door of Hope

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.