Doors, Open and Closed

Spoiler: They both take courage.

I’ve been thinking a lot about doors lately. After praying and meditating with the Holy Door of St. Peter’s for a month and half while writing the book, now I get to share that door with the world. On Christmas Eve, I sat in my parents’ house and watched Francis go through the door – the same place I sat to watch John Paul II open the door 25 years ago.

There has been a flurry of interviews about my book, which has been fun and exciting (and more to come later this month!). Below are a few if you're interested:

• Ave Explores the Jubilee Year with Katie McGrady

• Webinar: Five Ways to Celebrate the Jubilee Without a Flight to Rome

• Embracing Mercy and Hope for the Jubilee Year with Joan Watson

• Catholic Faith Network Live (go to January 6 and minute 19:50)

But something else about the book has gotten me thinking about doors. Honestly, the fact that the book is even here is a result of me… walking through a door.

Figuratively.

Many years ago, I was struggling with a desire of my heart and not knowing whether it was God’s will. I wanted to share my love of the Word of God with seminarians so that I could, in some small way, impact their homilies and therefore impact the people in the pew. It seemed clear as day to me that this desire in my heart meant teaching in a seminary, which therefore meant going back to school to get my Ph.D.

I did everything I could to walk through that door. I took the GREs again, I got new letters of application, I did a bunch of background work to apply to a certain institution for an additional theology graduate degree. Even though the program I was applying to was pretty selective, everything was lined up for me to get accepted and walk through that door.

Except that I prayed a novena of Holy Communions with the intention that if I wasn’t supposed to go, I wouldn’t get accepted. I knew that if I was one of the 10 to get accepted to the program, I was going. So I asked God to make His Will crystal-clear to me… by closing the door for me.

And He did. I was rejected by the program. It stung. I cried. And although it hurt, I knew why it had happened. (That didn’t take away the hurt!) While to the world it didn't seem to make sense, it made sense to me. It wasn’t His Will.

Fast-forward to this fall, I had two priests within a week of each other tell me that weekly they use my reflections from the Letters from Home podcast in their homilies. (I could hear God laughing as it sunk in. See, Joannie?)

When I look at this book from Ave Maria Press, I don’t just see a picture of a door in Rome. I see the fruit of God opening and closing doors. Two years ago, I was tired of getting book proposals rejected. The latest had gotten to the contract phase before it was suddenly dropped like a hot potato. You know why? Because it wasn't the right book and it definitely wasn’t the right time. So God closed the door.

I don’t want this to sound too romantic or utopian, nor do I want to paint a false image of a saintly Joannie who always receives these closed doors with joy and understanding.

Closed doors hurt. And open doors can be terrifying.

Two years ago today, I was in Rome for Pope Benedict XVI’s funeral. I was extremely happy with my life. But my husband and I dared to pray on that trip for God’s will. I was freelancing and loving it. We had an amazing community in Nashville and zero intentions of leaving. But there was a stirring in both of our hearts to simply ask God that if He wanted to open a door, could He please give us the eyes to see it and the courage to walk through it.

We thought we were praying to move to Rome. We had daily conversations about it, and on that trip we talked to friends living there about what it might look like.

Instead, God asked us to move to South Bend. Within a month of returning home, I saw a job description posted (when I wasn’t even looking) and felt my heart drop. This wasn’t the open door we had prayed for…

Two months after returning, I was working for Verso Ministries as pilgrim formation manager– a job I had created in my dreams but never thought actually existed.

Three months after returning, we were on pilgrimage in Portugal.

A year after returning, I had an opportunity to pitch a book to Ave Maria Press for the Holy Year. I can say with all confidence the opportunity never would have happened if I had not walked through the door marked South Bend.

So as I prepare to return to Rome this week and walk through the Holy Doors, I can’t help but wondering: what other doors are opening? Which ones are closing?

My prayer will be: God, give me the grace I need to accept the open and closed doors.

How can I pray for you on pilgrimage? Comment below or message me on Instagram. I will carry you with me!

This door isn’t closed anymore.