Sometimes opportunity comes literally knocking at your door.
I was at my desk working when my peripheral vision caught movement outside through my front window. I looked up. Someone was walking toward the house but I couldn’t make out who. It was snowing, and the hat and the hood made identification tricky.
I got up immediately, grabbed my coat from the entry hooks, and just as he knocked (I could see through my front-door windows now that it was, indeed, a he), opened the door and stepped out to greet him.
He was a bit taken aback that I was there so suddenly, standing with him on the porch in this bitter cold, but I explained how I’d seen him coming and my abrupt attempt to keep him from knocking was simply an effort to keep my two cocker spaniels quiet.
“Who needs a doorbell when you have the two of them?”
And so our unlikely chat began, outside, on a very, very blustery Chicago day.
Sonny, it turns out, was seeking donations in exchange for one or a few of the used paperback books he was carrying. Knocking door to door was his attempt to earn some dollars while waiting for entry into a job program that he’d been hooked up with that would potentially get him a ‘real job’ and keep him out of homelessness.
“Technically, ma’am, since these books were given to me, I can’t sell them. That’s why I’m asking for a donation.”
Most of the books Sonny carried had something to do with Christianity and I was happy to donate and accept a C.S. Lewis work I didn’t already have. By now we’d stepped inside and Sonny had set his books down to pet the dogs.
“What faith, if any, do you profess, Sonny?” I asked, handing him over a bill.
“Actually, I am a spiritual explorer; I enjoy learning about all sorts of religions.”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” I responded.
And there in my front hall, lots warmer but with coats still on, we talked some more about beliefs and God.
As our chat wound down and Sonny let me know it was time for him to keep going with his books, it struck me. Maybe there was an even bigger reason that kept me from plastering one of those “No Soliciting” stickers next to my front door.
What if Jesus was actually sending people to me? Not just to my front door, but anywhere, all the time? Wherever I was, wherever I go. And what if He were asking me to live as if I wanted to be “solicited”? As if my life wore a sticker that read, “Strangers Welcome. Let’s talk.”
What sticker’s on your front door? More importantly, what sticker does your life wear?
On Q Editor