I have several posts in me, but haven't had the time or energy to write them, but I promise I will do so soon. In the meantime, let me share this small Charis anecdote:
As part of our construction project, we have acquired and installed a new steel exterior door. This is cause for much celebration, because the door that formerly separated us from the cruel outside world was a flimsy door that was never meant for use as an exterior door. We did have a steel door, once upon a time, but that was before the demolition, so it has been some time since we've been able to enjoy the peace of mind a good, strong door provides. Even after the new door was installed, we did not lock it--we had no keys. A small complicating factor, right? So I continued to lock the interior door, and life continued as normal. But then Abe replaced the knobs and deadlocks (for which we did have keys) and, without notifying me, removed the old house key from my keyring and replaced it with the key to the new door.
So shortly thereafter, I took the kids on an errand, locking the kitchen door as usual. When we returned, I breezed past the unlocked steel exterior door and stood at the kitchen door fumbling with my keys. I know it's here somewhere...my house key should be right here... I thought. Alas. It was not there. Because Abe had removed it, and it was sitting inside on the dishwasher. I did what any submissive wife would do and called my husband to yell at him. "Did you take my key without telling me? Did you TAKE it? And leave me with no key? NO KEY? HOW--HOW am I supposed to get into the house?"
He mumbled something about forgetting to tell me he had exchanged keys and how he had decided we weren't going to lock that interior door anymore.
"Well, what am I supposed to do? You know what? I am coming to your work to get a house key. We'll be there in 10 minutes." I said.
"You can't," he replied. "I don't have a key to that door anymore." He paused. "You could kick in the door, I guess."
I dropped the phone like a hot potato, I was so angry. Then, with my children watching in horror, I channeled that anger began kicking the door. It took me about 10 tries before the wood around the lockset finally splintered and I kicked the door in.
Now we really don't need keys for that thing anymore.
Several days later, the kids and I were returning home from the library. I had obediently locked the steel door and left the kitchen door unlocked. I unlocked the door and Charis went in first, with Judah and I trailing behind collecting library books from the car. We arrived inside to find Charis standing at the kitchen door, kicking it furiously.
"Mama, this door will NOT open!" She said.
And even now, if she makes it to the door before I do, she doesn't try the knob. Oh, no. She just kicks it. I may have scarred her for life, but at least she will never be locked out of the house.