The Turtle, The Frog, and The Open Door

When the Infinite Sends You a Messenger

The day after we moved into our house, a turtle came to visit.

I was in bed. Exhausted. Wrung out from everything it had taken to buy and move into this house.

But when Del told me that there was a turtle at the front door, I pulled myself up and walked to the steps.

We looked at each other, the turtle and I.

There was no logical explanation for why a large turtle was sitting at my front door. So I did the only sensible thing — I got quiet and listened.

“Slow and steady.” That’s what I heard.

Eventually, Miss Turtle turned and moved on, heading somewhere only she knew. And I got up and did the same.

Slow and steady. Consistent. One step at a time.

A few years later, a house went up across the street, built where a farmer’s field had been. The new owner added a small pond.

Two days later, we heard a frog.

A frog? Where on earth had he come from? Within a week, he had been joined by others, and that brand-new pond was alive with frogs.

Here’s what I imagine happened.

Somehow, some way, a frog knew.

Maybe he’d been sitting at the edge of wherever he was living, feeling the pull of something new.

A better home. More room. A fresh start. And rather than sit with that feeling indefinitely, he moved.

If he came from the nearest lake, that was nearly a mile of hopping. Through fields and roads and uncertainty.

To a pond he had never seen, but somehow trusted was meant for him.

Animals don’t seem to do what we do.

They don’t spend years debating. They don’t talk themselves out of things.

They don’t wait for the perfect moment or the guarantee of a good outcome.

They feel the pull, they trust it, and they move.

They know that action opens doors. That one step creates the next.

We humans, on the other hand, ponder.

We stall. We wait for more signs, more certainty, more time. We mistake hesitation for wisdom.

How did the turtle know I needed that message? How did the frog know a new home was waiting for him?

Maybe the same way ideas come to us from what I’ll simply call the Infinite.

Something larger than us is always sending signals. Impressions. Nudges. Quiet callings toward what’s next.

These are not random. They are invitations.

Our free will means we get to choose: act on the idea, or let it pass.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand. If we don’t move on an invitation, it moves on without us.

And if we do, the door swings open and more possibilities pour in.

This isn’t a call to act on every passing thought. A little reflection is wise. Feeling it through, thinking it over, that has its place.

But then decide.

Yes. No. Or later.

• If yes: move. Do something, even something small. You don’t need all the answers before you begin. The answers come in the doing.
• If no: release it. Fully. Let it go without guilt.
• If later: choose a specific time to revisit it, and then let your mind rest until then.

More often than not, we are not stuck because life isn’t offering us anything.

We are stuck because we won’t move. Won’t take the chance. Won’t trust the pull.

And sometimes the most powerful reason to move isn’t even for ourselves.

The turtle moved — and helped me find my footing in a new home and a hard season. The frog moved — and made a way for others to follow.

What if your next move isn’t just for you?

Choose a door. And open it.