I threw the key into deep, consuming waters a long time ago.
The key that has the ability to unlock the walls.
Walls that are built up high.
Built up strong enough that it takes a lot to get through.
Throughout the year I’ve forced windows into some of them, leaving enough room for people to look in but never fully enter.
Most days I am unaware of their presence.
It’s like a house you can find your way through even in the darkness.
You’re so familiar with every turn and obstacle you could run into that you have the ability to walk around like it is fully lit.
I think that’s my problem.
The lights have been off for a long time.
I knew the structure all to well that I didn’t need light to navigate them.
I walked around comfortable, content.
And then a candle was lit.
And another.
And another.
And the light danced across the wall.
Revealing what I have been navigating while forgetting what they looked like this whole time.
And discontentment festered.
And realization emerged.
And I searched for more candles.
And I searched for more light.
Because I needed to know.
I needed to see in fullness what I have been walking for years.
Walls.
Your finest Pinterest decor covering the outside.
But stark and unpleasant on the inside.
And mild panic set in.
I started mentally scrolling through the list of people who were given access to what rooms.
Who had seen what.
And an uncomfortable feeling welled up.
When was the last time someone saw it all?
Not just the front rooms.
But that back closet too.
The one that I throw everything into when I’m cleaning up quick.
Has someone ever seen that?
And I knew the answer.
I know myself enough to know.
No one has seen that closet.
The closet that started all the walls.
That closet that is filled with fears big and small.
Fears that led to protection.
That led to walls.
And I find myself looking at the walls.
And a phrase continually dances through my head.
Certainly this isn’t fullness.
Certainly this isn’t life abundantly.
So I found myself running.
Running to the shore.
The shore of the deep, consuming water.
And I’m waiting for the key to be retrieved.
For the key to unlock the walls.
And for someone to enter in and find their way to the closet in the back.
And for perfect love to cast out those fears.
Both big and small.
And then I hear a whisper.
An inviting wind.
And it says, “I hold the key to cast away fear. To mend it all and lead you into life abundantly.”
Sydney Dunlap 