My mom sang this little song when I was a child; it made me giggle. And it still does.

"How dry I am, how wet I'll be if I don't find the bathroom key. "

I have no idea where she learned it, but it came rushing back yesterday as I jiggled the handle of the women's restroom.

It wouldn't open.

I had the code. It was written on the conference room table, and I scribbled it on my hand before I left the meeting.

1523 ENTER

But it wouldn't open. UGH.

Prayer can be like that...we come to God, and the door doesn't open.

We know prayer is the key, and we pray. We punch in the code and wiggle the handle of heaven's door, and it won't open.

What am I doing wrong? I need this prayer answered.

I bang on the door, hoping it will open from the inside, "Is anyone in there?"

It doesn't.

Then, as I stood outside the door, desperate and nearing the disaster of a grown woman wetting her pants, someone came along and whispered, "turn the handle UP."

"WHAT!"

I try again...1523 ENTER. I...