On last evening I arrived home with an armload of belongings. After a long afternoon of meetings, I was more than ready to be home and eat. At the door, I reached into my pocket to discover my house key was not there. Then I remembered that I’d left them inside. I went back to my car to get the spare. I’d used it too. They were also inside the house. My anxiety rose a bit, realizing that I would have to postpone eating the delicious smelling food sitting in the car waiting for me. The idea of sitting in the car in my driveway eating, held little appeal. I called my partner and told her the situation.
‘We’ve got a problem then.” She said way too calmly.
Then I remembered that she’d misplaced her keys about a week ago at her aunt’s house in a whole different city. She was relying on me having mine. My mind ran in a quick circle and came back with the idea that I had a spare at my Mother’s house. I called her and she said there was a key there. Hopeful, I drove all the way to her house to find that it was a key to her door. Could we not have checked this before I came? I felt like screaming the Charlie Brown yell. Auuuuuuuuugghh! I did no such thing. All the while, I was using this misfortunate event to search out gems of enlightenment. I wasn’t totally distressed. I didn’t know how I was going to get in but I did know that I would get in. Each step, however put that a little more at a distance. Mom gave me some homemade soup and hot water cornbread. I was grateful. I wanted keys.
When I got back home, I thoroughly checked both my vehicles to see if a spare was there. Nothing. Then I called the locksmith. They had no one to come out. Called another. The price to come out was outrageous. I told him to come on. I called my Dad to see if I had forgotten that I’d given him a spare. Nope. He then proceeded to help me feel worse about paying the locksmith that amount of money to get in my house. I just wanted to get in. I checked every door and window, hoping that I would have occasion to nevermind the locksmith. At least I know how secure my house is now. I could see in through a window. The warm glow of a lights. The cozy furniture just waiting for me. My cat Kosmo, just staring like he knew I’d messed up. Why couldn’t he just open the doggone door. So close yet so far.
The locksmith arrived and in less than five minutes, I had parted with an unintended chunk of dough, but I was in my house. All of my keys were right where I’d left them. I eventually sat down to eat, not even bothering to reheat my tepid food. It wasn’t until the next morning when my dad called and eventually said.
“Yeah man, we don’t realize how important keys are.”
Then I got it. Key’s are important. So simple, yet so profound. Keys are the key. The means by which we gain access. They open doors to where we want to go, do, have, and be. Our abilities are keys. Our resources are keys. People in our lives are keys. Our mental attitude is a key. Our knowledge is key. Ha, I’d pay for that revelation. I had paid for that revelation. It was a reminder to mind how I tended my keys. Those people, talents, and resources that open doors to our goals are of utmost importance. They grant us access to the life we want to live. Take great care how you handle your keys…or you’ll be standing outside of your possibilities at the mercy of someone else to let you in. And that can come at a great cost.