It was a rough day when I first received my key. An unforgiving Monday - tough deadlines at work, meetings taking up time needed to complete projects. The realization that my heart is harboring jealousy. Ants in my lunchbox. Sand in my luggage. Spiders in my bedroom. Turmoil over some relationships. Frustrations. Apprehension about upcoming life transitions. All the things.
And then, in the midst of it all, in my plea for peace, I found a package on my bed. Something had come in the mail.
A Giving Key.
I wept when I opened it. I needed freedom from disturbance during transitions in my life.
I wore that key everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Often I held it in my hands and whispered peace to myself in the face of uncertain transitions.
Not even a month later, I found out a friend of mine - a mother of four very rambunctious kids - was moving out of state because her husband's job relocated him. She had a short amount of time to sell her house and find a new one, moving away from the town she had become so knit into, all the while dealing with, well, very rambunctious growing kiddos. If ever there was someone standing in the face of uncertainty and transitions, it was this woman.
I began to pray for her. To pray peace for her. And then one day I realized: I thought that key was supposed to help me get through my turmoil... but my key was meant for her.
I took it from my neck one Sunday morning at the end of the month and pressed it into her hands. "This is your word now," I said. "This is your word I have been praying for you all along." She understood. The key was home.