I struggle with keys. No, I mean that literally, and I'm talking about keys for locks. I suppose it may go back to when I was a latch-key kid and the fear I had that the key I needed to get in the door at the end of a school day, with my little brother waiting patiently by my side, would not be in my pocket, or in its hiding place.
Actually I think it's related to the days I was a key holder for a major department store -- and not just any key holder, but the key holder. I was the head of security, and I was supposed to keep this building full of assets and people safe--and not cost the company money by accidentally setting off alarms (or annoy other managers because they'd get the call). An icy fist would twist my innards nearly every time I had to open the building, unsure the perfect combination of key turns and code punches and button pushes would actually open the door and silence the sirens.
It still happens today. I do what I have to do, but I really don't like opening or locking up a building that is alarmed. Too many parts of the process that might fail, including me.
Thankfully there is, as Charles Spurgeon put it, a lock-smith with a great bunch of keys who has all of that worked out for the most crucial, most stubborn, most unwieldy, most mysterious lock combinations of all: Eternity.
The following is a commemorative 9/11 post, which first ran in 2015.
In the days following 9/11, there was story after story about heroes.
Here's mine of my failure.
"Are you watching TV? Go turn on your TV."
It was an hour into our school day and 4 weeks since my knee injury which rendered me somewhat limited in certain activities, climbing stairs being one of them.
But climb the stairs I did because the urgency in my friend's voice compelled me to go, go now. I pushed the button and saw the World Trade Center tower with smoke billowing out of its side. All immediate sensations went numb; I blinked and looked more closely at the screen, sure I was watching some morbid daytime advertising mistake, and through the confusion in my brain I heard the footsteps of the 3- and 5-year olds hit the landing two-thirds of the way up the stairs.
Laura Miller aka mrsdkmiller
Looking for a list of articles published around the web?
Looking for posts written in response to 5-Minute Friday prompts? Click here:
Her March Isn't Over
Across the River
When God Pries My Fingers Off My Children
Life's Defining Moments
To the Christian Wife Who Berated Her Husband in Front of My Daughter
Zeal and Grace in France
An Unconventional Love Story
Seeing What's in Front of Our Eyes
Remembering Why I Called You Hannah
Love Your Sister.
Because He Came Home
Go Valiantly! A Prayer for New Homeschooling Moms
© lauraenglandmiller, #thereyougothinkingagain, Laura E Miller
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