Thursday, April 26, 2018

When The Right Door Opens


I barely have the strength to continue. I'd climbed that hill at the Mount Hermon conference center already once. My feet ache. The key wouldn't unlock my room door. It allowed me into the building but not into my room. And now this new key isn't working either. Darkness covers the sky. Loneliness surrounds me. I hadn't slept the night before, actually days before, and I'd been on an airplane all morning, conference all day and night. The first time I'd flown alone since I was a 20-year-old.

Tears flood my eyes. Stopping on that cement path, I gather my coat around me. What are you doing here, Shelli? I throw my arms out to the open sky. "Lord, what am I doing? What is this carrot I'm chasing?" I've heard this whispered into my ear so many times, from behind my back. "Do I need to let it go, Lord? What my family must think of me ..."

And I think of all the many things that transpired to get me here, to this place. One door open after another. "Would you like to write a blog post for my upcoming release?" a friend asked. Sure. And through that, I connected with a lady whose book helped me over 20 years ago when I dealt with infertility. I wrote a blog post about her. And through that blog post, that author's friend contacted me--"Have you ever been to Mount Hermon Writers Conference?" she asked. No. "There's a writing contest. You should enter." And not long after, I received an email saying I'd won a trip to Mount Hermon.

Shelli, these doors aren't coincidental, the trustworthy voice speaks straight into my heart.

"I'll give it all up, Lord, if that is what you think best. I need your direction." A not-so-pretty cry seeps out of my being. I struggle for breath, talking right out loud. I don't even care if anyone is around, if anyone hears me. But I feel like I'm the only one on the planet. "My work needs so much help, Lord. What am I doing?"
DSC_2835 (2)I get one more room key. Bless their hearts. They could tell I was distraught.

The next day, I meet with an editor from a publishing house. She wants my whole manuscript. I'm shocked. The next day, I feel so free--I have an open door. By sheer accident, I sit down with another editor at dinner, because my friend is sitting there. When I share what I write, the editor pulls out her business card. "I want your proposal," she says. My friend bangs on my leg underneath the table. I keep my composure, on the outside. Another open door?

The next day, I meet with the agent of my dreams, Wendy Lawton from Books & Such Literary Management. She's so brilliant, and she represents amazing writers. I could never deserve her. What are you doing? You'll never be ready for this. 

"Do you think you're ready, Shelli?" she asks.

"I think so," I say, staring at the ground and wondering where that hint of boldness came from.

"Let's do this then."
20180424_172245 (2)I walk to lunch in a daze, sit down at the table, and poke at my salad. I can't believe ... I have an amazing, knowledgeable person to help guide me now ...

My dear friend--the one who banged on my leg, my roommate, Jennifer--finds me after lunch. "Well?"

"Sit down," I say to her. I'm laughing to keep from crying.

She knows. Without saying a word, she knows. She embraces me the Canadian way, as she mocks my Texas talk in fun, like always, always teasing that I need an interpreter. And I love it. "You have an agent."

I keep laughing.
DSC_2858 (4)In the quietness of our room, I ask Jennifer, "Do you want to know about that first night room key mix-up?"

"Okay ..." she says.
Shelli (4)"I had been in the wrong building all along, the one right next door to ours ... the men's building." It had been dark, you know. I'm new here, you know. "The key allowed me into their building, just not into what I thought was 'our' room. A man came out into the hallway because he heard a woman's voice, and he knew a woman shouldn't be in there." I was so embarrassed. He probably heard me crying. "Then he got locked out of his room." The funniest thing. "And I had to help him get back into his room."

The door didn't open, because I wasn't in the right place. When you open your hands and release ...  when you continue on ... when you find yourself in the right place, the door opens.

9 comments:

  1. Reminds me of the time I entered my college dorm room, but it wasn't mine. I excused myself from the two girls I'd walked in on, and went back into the hall. Why wasn't this my room? It was the right number. Oh. No, it wasn't. I was on the second floor. My room was on the third.
    (Still no agent. Congratulations!)

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    1. Terri, thank you for letting me know that I'm not alone. And don't give up. You are the sweetest. xoxo

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  2. YAY, SHELLI!!!!!!!!!

    SnOoPyDaNcE!!!!!!!!!

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    1. Andrew, I still can't believe it. I'm thinking about you all the time, and a prayer is always on my heart for you.

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  3. May God bless you and keep you; may His face shine upon you.
    This is exciting. So happy for you!

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    1. Norma, thank you so much. I so appreciated your sweet note. You are such a blessing and encouragement to me.

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  4. I like how you’ve taken the metaphor, analogy, whatever it technically is, and woven it into Christ’s way of getting you to the agent of your dreams. It will be fun to watch Him open the doors of publication as you work with the great people of Books and Such. I am so happy for you, my online friend. May your creative mind be unleashed. May your spirit continue to be teachable. And may our Savior calm your traveling fears.

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    1. Melodie, thank you so much. My traveling fears ... how did you know?! :) You are such a blessing to me.

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  5. On my website you'll see similar texts, write what you think. door operators

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Blessed by you, Shelli