the door

Facebook. You know ... I have "ran into" more people that I never thought I would see again or had completely forgotten about through Facebook. While I don't spend a lot of time on the site (you could get completely swamped by that thing), I have found it interesting to catch up with some old friends. I have had some fun online reunions with old friends and faces thanks to Facebook.

An example ...

I got a message last week from a guy I had a creative writing class at WKU with in 1995. I only remembered his name was Darren because he was a fellow Christian and a musician and he gave me one of his tapes. (This was before CD's!)

Anyways, I had written a poem in that class that Darren had asked me for a copy of. I had, of course, said yes. There was nothing romantic between Darren and I. He would soon go on to marry his current girlfriend and I would go on to marry my current boyfriend. We were just two Christians in a class at a secular University that found common ground through my poem and our relationship with the Lord.

I completely forgot about this poem until Darren found me on Facebook. He said that the poem has been framed and hanging on a wall in his home since he received it from me. Wow! I had to dig through my trunks and tubs but I finally found a copy of the poem he was talking about.

I thought I would share it here.

So, thanks to Darren and Facebook, I bring you a poem I wrote fifteen years ago. Gosh I am old. I hope you enjoy it!

the door

upon my old and rugged door
a knock is softly heard,
and though i question who it is
i do not hear a word.

i look out of the peep hole
and see a Man outside.
He's tall and dark and handsome,
and His arms are stretched out wide.

His face is soft and patient,
His smile full of love.
upon His feet are sandals.
above Him soars a Dove.

i start to open up the door
but then put back my key.
there's sin and guilt and evilness
i just can't let Him see.

so i go about my daily tasks
and forget about the Man.
i've things to do and people to see --
i'll answer when i can.

i go to school and go to lunch
and then i go to work,
but wherever i do go
the knock does seem to lurk.

it isn't loud or tedious,
it's soft and sweet and cares.
it doesn't even bother me,
i hardly know it's there.

but late at night when i lay down
upon my bed to sleep,
the knock begins to beckon me
and i begin to weep.

oh how i want to answer it,
that knock upon my door.
i want to meet the Man who calls
and the Dove that silently soars.

so finally one morning
i went to go and see.
i walked up to my worn-down door
to let this Man meet me.

He wrapped His arms around my neck
as the Dove did circle near.
His softness eased my worried soul --
He wiped away my tears.

i asked Him if He'd stay with me
and live right in my home.
He said He would and then He said
someday i'd see His throne.

and then as He was coming in,
i had just one more plea.
"dear Man," i asked, "why did you wait?"
"had you not a key?"

He smiled and he shook His head
and pointed to the door.
there was no handle on His side.
that's what the knock was for.

"dear child," He did whisper slight
"you do hold the key.
all that I could do was knock
and wait for you to see."

i felt myself begin to cry
as He promised a brand new start.
"welcome to my house," i wept.
"welcome to my heart."

wendi huisman (1995)