Love at the Threshold: Making Peace with Every Inner Visitor

As I reflected on the journey of my life, there have been moments that would have broken me, but because I listened to the whispers of the Infinite, I began to build a house that I loved. The house is not perfect, but it is full of Love. Some rooms have been gutted, others gently restored. While much now feels fresh and new, if you look closely, you’ll see the lines—the seams and sacred scars that mark where healing has taken place. These are not signs of faulty repair, but of deep character, the kind that now forms the foundation of this new, loving home.

One day, I hear a knock at the door, and I invite “This or Something Even Better Still” into my house. As I open the door with my Vision of a life fulfilled, I see “This or Something Even Better Still” standing at the threshold, greeting me with a warm smile.

I welcome Him into my home. When my current guest named “Why” speaks to me inside the house—“That’s not what I asked for,” “How is that helping me?”—I turn and thank “Why” and say, “Thank you for wanting to keep me safe.” I turn to the threshold where “This or Something Even Better Still” is standing and say, “Welcome, please come in,” and gesture with my hand for him to enter the guest house. I offer a big hug and extend my hospitality and an opportunity to stay as long as needed.

“This or Something Even Better Still” says, “Thank you. I come bearing gifts of opportunities that I knew you would love. It is up to you to receive them.” I say, “Thank you,” knowing that I AM with I AM, and graciously receive.

This story came to me as a divine whisper, gently inspired by Rumi’s The Guest House. In Rumi’s poetic wisdom, every emotion—joy, sorrow, anger—is welcomed as a guest, each arriving with a purpose, a hidden gift. He invites us not to resist or judge these visitors but to greet them at the door, laughing, to meet them with curiosity and compassion.

That metaphor has transformed me. I no longer see difficult moments or unmet expectations as enemies. They are guests too. They are the “Why” who still lingers in the corners of my home, cautious, protective, often fearful. But now, I’ve made room for another guest—one that brings a higher frequency. One that reminds me that the universe conspires in love, not lack.

This house I speak of is not made of bricks and beams. It is the sacred dwelling of my soul. And in this holy space, I have learned to trust the timing of things, to soften control, to let go of rigid scripts.

“This or Something Even Better Still” doesn’t rush in with answers; he arrives with presence. He holds space. He teaches that what is unfolding may not look like the vision board—but it is the vision, upgraded by divine intelligence.

So now, when pain knocks or confusion visits, I still open the door. I still listen. But I also remember to keep the guest room ready—for the miracle yet to come. I stand in this confidence. I light a candle of faith, lay my head on the pillows of trust, and whisper, “Love, come in. I’ve been expecting you.”