Invitation

When I invite you into my home for the very first time, I am making myself vulnerable, inviting you to see deeper into me than you ever have before…I am making a statement that a new facet of our relationship is beginning. I am willing to be scrutinized, opening up to you and expectant of some form of confirmation on your part that this is a step you are equally happy about.

First, you must understand that my home is my frame around me…Just like a frame enhances a piece of art and focuses your eyes to what is held in that space… Within my home you will see why I am the way I am…you will get a taste of what I search for in life, to surround myself with and thereby be. I invite you to cross a threshold, enter through a doorway that I have opened for you, emotionally as well as physically, and come in. This should be a sacred act.

On my walls, you will see art hung and pictures displayed and mementos of my life up to this point. The colors are me, the windows I look out of display where I find comfort in viewing my world, my bed is my sanctuary and the leather couch my nest. My rocking chair has a history, the heron picture reminds me of a beloved person, and the boxes of pictures hold a trail of my years.

But, when that invitation is rebuffed, when I am given flimsy reasons why you are not going to be coming, “I can’t come this weekend because I have a baby shower next weekend and we are responsible for the decorations.” Just painful statements that say, “no, thank you!  I’d rather not get to know you anymore than the tenuous amount I know you now”,  “I don’t care what your framework is like” and , furthermore, “ I act like I’m your friend but you are not a priority in my life at all.”.

If I extend that hand symbolically or physically and find a cold reception, I won’t extend it again.

Perhaps the best solution then is to not open my door…. To protect the me and keep me safe behind those walls. Outside of them, you may see me and hear me but only what I want you to see and decide you should see. The rest of me is there within my frame and rocking in my rocking chair.

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