I’ve often been bothered by the simplicity of the adage “When God closes a door, he opens a window.” The well intentioned intoners of this missive usually neglect to mention that, continuing the analogy, in a house like mine, finding the window involves working ones way through the living room, kitchen and pantry, down the back stairs, over a pile of miscellaneous boxes, and through a few cobwebs before finding the window. It’s not like a door gets closed in your face, and you turn around and think, “Oh, no problem, there’s an open window on the other side of the room.” Finding the window can be a rather arduous, messy, perilous, dusty adventure.
The real-world scenario that brought this to mind is the door I was heading for (starting my Master’s degree next June) has closed (as of Monday, I’m now required to show proficiency in a 2nd language before I’m accepted, not before I graduate) and I’m not sure I’ll fit through the doggy-door (I might be able to scrape together enough French before the program starts). Gracious, this analogy is getting tedious.
I’m not worried; just curious.
Such a good point… sometimes the journey to find the open window is a story of its own.