The Key to Heaven Hung From a Nail
Young and more eager to play
than to pray,I caught a glimpse of my Mom looking at a tarnished old key.
That seemed strange to me!
She was just standing there in the hall.
Why was she looking at that key hanging on a rough, plank wall?
She smiled when I stopped to say,
“Mom, there’s dust on that key you look at every day.
Does it open a special door?”
“That, and much, much more,”
she said, and then she smiled.
“You’ll find that door someday, my child.”
The key was just hanging
there on a rusty nail.
But I had no more time to
listen for more detail.It was a beautiful day,
so I quickly ran outside to play.
“Who wants to find an ugly door for a silly old key?
Certainly, not me!”
Then, one day, I found myself staring at the key hanging by that nail.
It caught my eye as I took a breathe and began to exhale.
There was something tugging at my heart,
and my eyes began to burn and smart.
Though the haze of my tears, the tarnished key turned bright and shiny;
then, a drop of blood touched my hand-so tiny.
I blinked, but the drop of blood had vanished- just quickly gone.
I buried the key into my fist and held on.
In amazement, my hands were snowy white
as I stood in the midst of a mighty light.
Magically, out of nowhere, I
heard a voice ringing in my ear.
“Father forgive them,” was all
I could hear. Tears rolled down my face
and I felt a tremendous love, within a strong embrace.
My Jesus had been nailed to a rough wooden cross, made from a tree,
and He did it just for me.
Mary Crisp
Jameson
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