They first started out being screened in porches, but the screens have been replaced with three new white vinyl windows and a storm door that leads to the deck. The apartment now has a sun room. Ours faces the north, so, since we are on the third floor, I call it the lookout tower. It will not have any sun, but I'm already visualizing how many shade loving plants I can put in it.
The weather has been very mild, with temperatures in the 70's and the scent of Spring right around the corner. With the warmer temps, comes the time to open the windows. The first day I did this, two of the windows in the sun room opened easily. I did not think much of this, after all, they were new....until I got to the third one. It would not budge. I pushed on the top of the window frame and pulled on the bottom, but still, the window stayed firmly closed. My husband tried, to no avail. As he walked off, he muttered, "It must be painted shut."
That did not make any sense. The windows were new and they were vinyl, they did not need paint, nor did it look like they had been painted.
A day or two later, I tried again. Nothing. I fetched my glasses and gave close inspection to the window. It was not locked, I had made certain of that when comparing the lock positions of the other two windows. I looked along the edge of the window and there it was....paint. The window itself had not been painted, but the trim board next to it had. I looked closer still. Surely, this could not be holding the window shut. I retrieved one of my knives I use for working with clay. It is a six inch long piece of flat steel with one long edge sharpened. Slowly, I ran the corner tip of the sharp edge down along the side of the window and watched as it cut through an incredibly thin layer of paint. When I reached the bottom, I put two fingers under the pull strip on the lower edge of the window. It went up as if it had been greased with butter.
All the brawn and muscle could not overpower a thin layer of paint. The paint is like the troubles we let into our lives. At first it does not seem like a big deal, but we let it sit and it dries. It begins to disguise its self as part of our being and tries to remind us that we need it. It can take the shape of many forms. Drama, fear, self condemnation and does its very best to keep us from wanting anything better. It convinces us we do not need anything better because it likes to be in control. Control is its only power. It knows the truth about itself, that it is only a thin layer of paint, an untrue thought that crept in and decided to make itself at home. It knows that the grasp it has on us is not true, is not real, but it continues to cling, like a parasite and we continue to feed it. We continue to believe we are helpless to do anything about it.
But we are not helpless. We have a immeasurable amount of resources, as vast as the universe, at our disposal. The help can be in the form of a prayer, the counsel of a good friend, the unexplained encounter with someone or something that has been on our minds of late. It is all there for the taking, we just have to believe it and receive it. When we believe, we see just how insignificant the trouble was in the first place.
No comments:
Post a Comment