I don’t know about anyone else, but I always feel an awkward twinge when I walk up to a house, ring the doorbell, and wait for the door to be opened. I fiddle around like a doofus, not knowing where to look, listening for a faint sound from the interior to assure me someone is coming. Sometimes I look through the peephole, just trying to stay busy. It just feels weird. Something heavy twirls in my soul when I’m waiting on the doorstep.
It is one of those weird pauses that life throws at us, one of those times where we are forced to stop and do…I don’t really know what. But it always feels like a part of the plan I didn’t account for, a side effect of the commitments I’ve made.
Part of my brain, along with my heart, is still lingering in the place I just came from and part is considering what might happen inside. I’m not fully present in either place. But I’m fully aware of myself, standing here awkwardly and waiting, just waiting.
I never really know what is going to happen when I walk through that door. Even if I love and trust and am excited about the people in there, it is impossible to predict and prepare for the uncertainty of what will actually occur. It’s a commitment and once I’m in there, the rest of the world is somewhat suspended. And that feels kinda strange.
Even though I’ve been to this place before, no two experiences are the same.
In some ways, I wish all doors were just eternally open, so that I could seamlessly glide between one place and another. But, on the other hand, there is something powerful and significant about waiting at the doorstep. There is something about waiting on a host, being re-invited and ushered in, that just feels right.
I suppose there is not much to do besides take a deep breath and count down the seconds until the door swings open and the experience can begin. There is not much to do but take a moment and appreciate where I’ve been and smile at the possibility of what lies ahead.
Perhaps the greatest gift of all is that someone is standing on the doorstep with me. That is what love is. I look over at her in the quiet, still places that are forced on us and she sees in my eyes that all quiet moments reminded me of how much I love her. All loud moments remind me of this too, but the quiet moments give me the chance to tell her. After all, every place is just less lonely now, although they may be twice as awkward. It reminds me of the King, the Presence that doesn’t have to say anything to tell you that you are loved. The truth that screams loudest in silence. I’m thankful to be waiting with Him. And with her.
I can hear the footsteps on the other side of the door. It won’t be long now. We’ve been invited and we have said yes.
Bear with me as I awkwardly say goodbye to the season before and pump my fist with excitement for the season to come. Bear with me as I awkwardly say goodbye and impatiently wait to say hello. My heart flutters fondly with what has just been. And my smile is so wide my cheeks hurt as I think about what is about to come.
For now, I’m just awkwardly waiting, on the doorstep, with my love.
