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"Make sure the doors are locked. There's lots of crazies out there." my mother says for the twelfth time.
There are two locks on the screen door and one dead lock on the front door that has the etched glass. There is also the garage doors, the patio doors, the other patio door in my grandmother's room and the side door.
No one is going to get in.
My mother keeps her house like she keeps her heart. Bolted shut. Cranberry shades drawn so no one can see in.
But I do, because I live with her now. I see her fear of being taken advantage of. I see her fear of intimacy and reticence to make deep conversation. The curtain is drawn.
But I got in.
As a Christian, I am the only bible she is reading. I am the only sunshine getting in. But my windows are spotted, so I ask the Lord to clean me every morning. I pray to be a healing force, not a force of robbery and murder that roams the streets of her paranoid mind.
It's okay to keep the doors of the house locked mom, but unlock the door to your heart. I know it's hard. So many people enter without knocking. They don't respect other people's boundaries. Once I start respecting hers though, she'll respect mine. It goes that way.
I notice signs of unfastening.
Help me be a good houseguest so her locks wont be wound so tightly and she'll let you in Lord.
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