Are You Vulnerable? Do You Search for Hope?
I opened the door.
I watch the news and when I do feelings spark—many feelings—and on a wide spectrum.
I begin to read a book, and often what I am reading brings out my emotions. When that happens, I know I will read to the end. Because that emotional experience highlights that I am reading something human, something that speaks to me. I will empathize with the characters either real or fictional.
Every day I read blog posts. Sometimes the title reels me in. Sometimes it’s the accompanying photo that touches me—and often (and this is the best part) it’s the first paragraph alerting me to something that I want to know, should know. My empathy meter is on high alert. I read. I share. And the best part is when what I read gives me hope.
But now more often than just the usual HOPE, I also need truth, uplifting truth. Because I often feel vulnerable, the callowness of my youth, when everything was wonderful, when the sky was the limit, when things would always get better, well, it’s disappearing, limping. Maybe it’s even totally gone.
So, I’m going to flashback and share a story with you.
A MAN RANG MY DOORBELL
I can remember it as if it was yesterday, and it’s decades ago. I was a new mother whose child awakened frequently, crying, needing to eat, needing to feel close to me. I slept when she slept.
This particular morning the doorbell rang. We lived in a brand-new community, far out from a business center. Not all the homes on my cul-de-sac were sold or occupied. Our house was at the very end of the cul-de-sac, and the people on both sides of us worked. I was alone.
I stumbled from bed, threw on a bathrobe and hurried to the front door. I didn’t look out. I just opened it. A man stood on my porch, told me he was from the phone company and had to check some wires.
I LET HIM IN.
In retrospect everything I did was wrong. I was not sleeping well and not thinking well. I don’t remember all the details. I think he went into the kitchen to check the wall phone while I ran down the hallway and instinctively grabbed my daughter from her crib. Maybe she was crying and that’s why I went to her. But in moments I was back in my hallway, with my baby in my arms facing this man, who didn’t act like he really had a reason to be there, in my house, on a bright morning with quiet surrounding us.
I remember he said something about the phone. I know that in those moments that then and even now felt too long, he knew I was vulnerable. If he did check something legitimately, something that his job called for, I can’t remember. Whatever it was has been clouded over by my vulnerability, my bad choices.
Maybe when we stood facing each other for those moments, he wanted to warn me to be more careful. Maybe if he had something evil in mind, he realized he might lose his job. But he said nothing. That was the frightening part. Maybe for those long seconds he yearned for what I had…a new baby, a new house. I will never know.
Finally, he turned and walked to the front door. He opened it and he left.
My heart was pounding. I hugged my child, not really knowing what had just happened. And I will never know.
I didn’t check his truck as he drove away. Was he really from the phone company?
LESSONS LEARNED
I was more careful after that. Before that incident, I had invited in a neighbor I did not know well, a man, who I discovered had been drinking. All I could do was call my husband and suggest that maybe he should take an earlier train home. It took him two hours while I talked to this man and kept my head.
Another time, a woman was at the door. She was selling her religion. Why I invited her IN I will never know, because it became evident early on that we were on opposite ends when it came to beliefs. I had to ask her to leave.
BUT DID I REALLY LEARN? Final Thoughts
When living in Iowa, I often opened the door to people selling things. I even let one woman use my bathroom. My husband was astounded by that action. But I want to believe that people are good. And when I let that woman in, I felt in control of the situation.
But maybe we never totally are. And even now I walk a fine line between wanting to embrace folks and being cautious. And I know that through the years of working as a teacher, helping my students through a race riot–and then being an RN helping vulnerable women have their babies–that I will always want to OPEN A DOOR. I am more cautious, yes, but I want to believe in the goodness of people.
I can’t tell you how many times when people hear that I was born and raised in Chicago, they are rather horrified. They picture that beautiful city as gun-ridden and totally dangerous. It’s not. Every city has its problems. We have a gun problem in this country. But again, it’s so damn complicated.
So I will wish safety for you. That all of us will use our heads–AND OUR HEARTS.
That we will often be able to OPEN DOORS to others and to TRUTH.
And that we will only be vulnerable to our own feelings, our awareness of the goodness in people that we need to support, whenever we can.
I was vulnerable but fortunate. Being open and vulnerable isn’t wrong, it requires goodness on the part every human we meet. Hoping for that.
Photo Credit: pull up a chair, always an open door THANK YOU
