There’s a saying I’ve come to live by: “If all the doors are closed, look for a window. And if all the windows are closed, look for a doggie door.”
Lately, I’ve felt like a big dog trying to squeeze through a tiny door—awkward, uncomfortable, but determined. Life doesn’t always open doors for you the way you expect. Sometimes, you have to crawl, stretch, or even imagine your way through. And that’s where persistence comes in.
This week tested me. I didn’t sleep at all one night. I stayed up struggling, distracted, feeling guilty for things I’m still learning how to let go of. But in the stillness of that morning, I heard a quiet voice—one that felt like God saying, “I love you. I forgive you.” It didn’t erase everything I was feeling, but it helped me take a breath. It helped me start again.
I made a plan to get my job application done—something I’d put off for far too long. And despite the fatigue, I followed through. I got up, made my bed, grabbed my thumb drive, and headed to the library. I took a moment for myself in the Friends of the Library bookstore (picked up a gorgeous book on Alphonse Mucha), and then went downstairs to use the public computer. I only had 45 minutes, but that was enough. I updated my résumé, finished the application, and submitted it online. The last time I applied for that same job was back in October 2024, but I never finished the process. This time, I did. No cover letter, no printed resume—just the essentials.
Sometimes persistence is about doing the small things that are actually big things. I even made it to the store afterward. The manager wasn’t there, but I spoke to the assistant manager and let her know I had just applied. She was kind, took my information, and promised to pass it along. And you know what? That was a win. It may not seem like much, but it’s a step. And steps matter.
Later, while waiting for the bus, I thought about Alice in Wonderland—how she had to shrink down to get through that tiny door. Maybe that’s me right now: shrinking my pride, letting go of past mistakes, and just focusing on what I can do today. Because once I’m through, I can grow again. Persistence isn’t always glamorous. It’s not about having all the answers or doing everything right. It’s about showing up—even when you’re tired, even when your stomach is in knots, even when the world is loud and unforgiving. It’s about finding your way, even if it means crawling through the doggie door.