The Locked Gate

I started this post this morning while actually walking, dictating a broken version of the following into my phone. I’ve tried to preserve the tone and feel of my thoughts. The image attached to this post still flays my soul…

An old rusty lock on a gate to nowhere

I’ve walked this path at Thompsons Station Park so many times I’ve lost count, but I’ve never noticed this gate until today.

There is no discernible path behind it…nothing but a few acres of trees that form a buffer zone of sorts around most of the park. In fact young but grown trees immediately block the entrance. The rusted padlock tells the rest of the story…

An old locked gate bars entrance to a path going seemingly nowhere. What secrets if any lie beyond? Is the lock a reminder or a recommendation?

My troublesome and curious nature wonders if the key lies discarded somewhere close by. Part of me wants to jump the gate and explore. Curious George up to no good…

Curiosity kills more than just cats. If you’re not careful, it can kill dreams as well. I bare the scars of such death in my own body.

Suddenly I want to run from this spot, and whatever does or doesn’t lie beyond. Maybe I should post a sign, “Do not enter: dead inside.”

I pray that the God of Resurrection would bring new life to what lies beyond all our gates. Mine included.

Courage would have me add ‘especially mine…’