When God closes a door...

I’ve never liked that cliché much, especially the door-closing part. Oh, sure, it’s fine for Maria in "The Sound of Music," going from the closing nunnery door to the window that opens into the arms of the dashing Captain Von Trapp in the Hollywood movie. But I’m almost sure the real Maria never would have spouted something like, "Where the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Maria Von Trapp was a feisty Austrian lady whose story was overly-romanticized by the movie people, a fact that disturbed her so much, she wrote a book to tell her true story. I read it years ago, and haven’t liked Julie Andrews’ Maria quite so much ever since, charming though she may be with those big blue eyes and that lovely voice.

That aside, the darned cliché has rung true in my life over and over again. Yesterday, a door closed on something I have loved very much, and already windows are opening. Our family music group has decided to prolong its “sabbatical” because of stresses being imposed from outside of us, and I am in grief about that. I love times with the group. We all enjoy being together and making music together on a regular basis, but rules and regulations have overtaken us and spoiled the joy we feel in what we do. And the Scribes and Pharisees who are so stuck on the letter of the law will only find ways to make things worse, so the family will have to close that door and find other windows and ways to make music together.

The windows? An email this morning from a friend who has contact with a few young people who would like to form a music group with my daughters.  A discussion with said friend about possibly starting a local Taizé group at the churches on 95^th Ave (there are 5, and we could be truly ecumenical if all those congregations are willing to participate). And someone at our family group meeting yesterday suggested singing at a nursing home where the people are just so happy to hear music, no letter of any law would ever apply. As unhappy as I am about the way things have ended, new beginnings are not far off. The Spirit blows where it will, clichés notwithstanding.