That thought is not original to me. I’ve seen it on posters, plaques, wall hangings, memes, and even embroidered on pillows. I’ve also seen plenty of variations on it (such as “praise Him in the hallway”). But despite my determined efforts, I haven’t found the name of the first person to utter it. I use it here with apologies to that person, whose inspiration has undoubtedly touched tens of thousands. 

I know it has touched and inspired me. Because there have been many times when I’ve been the one in the hallway, standing in the shadows and waiting—often not very patiently—for God to open the door. Because I’ve been stubbornly convinced of a few things. To read more, click the button below.

I’ve been convinced that the hallway is second rate. After all, no one would choose to hang out in the hallway. No way could it be sacred or holy.

I’ve been convinced that the hallway is somehow shrouded with some impenetrable lead-like lining that prevents any inspiration from blasting its way through.

I’ve been convinced that everything I wanted and needed and deserved was on the other side of that door—and that until the door opens and I rush through, all I can do is wait for the things I want and need and deserve.

Perhaps saddest of all, I’ve been convinced that by its very nature, the hallway isn’t a place where miracles occur.

I know better now. About all those things.

Can the hallway be sacred? Absolutely. Something that is sacred is worthy of veneration and respect. Something that is sacred is to be treated with more care and regarded with deeper reverence. The Lord Himself explained that “that which cometh from above is sacred” (D&C 63:64). It is sacred because heaven is its source. And I know, nothing doubting, that many of my hallways have come from heaven. Some of yours probably have, too.

Scripture also tells us that the Savior’s disciples “shall stand in holy places, and shall not be moved” (D&C 45:32). Can a hallway possibly be holy? Holy places become holy when holy people enter them. That puts the responsibility squarely on me. If I’m holy, my hallway will be, too.

And what about inspiration? Every week, the sacramental covenants remind me that I may always have His Spirit to be with me. Not just now and then. Not just after the door is opened. Always.

And that’s not all: maybe the things I really want and need and deserve aren’t just on the other side of the door. Maybe they’re in the hallway, too. And if I stay focused on the door and when it might open and what might be on the other side, I will miss the blessings and experiences and miracles that are in the hallway.

Speaking of miracles, our God is a God of miracles. I believe in them. I’ve experienced many of them. I’m guessing you have, too. And as I reflect on the most meaningful of those miracles, I realize that many of them occurred in the hallway. Sometimes in the darkest, scariest part of the hallway.

I remember vividly a miracle related by President Thomas S. Monson that took place during World War II. A young American sailor was aboard a ship that was voyaging into the bloody boiling pot known as the Pacific Theater. Every morning his anxious mother poured out her heart in prayer for her son’s well-being before she volunteered on a production line making supplies for men in battle. That faithful mother was definitely in the hallway. So was her son.

One day the unimaginable happened: her son’s ship went down off Guadalcanal, and he was swept overboard. But he survived due to a life belt cinched tightly around his waist. Later, examination revealed the miracle: that life belt had been inspected, packed, and stamped back home in Akron, Ohio, by the sailor’s own mother. You know—the one in the hallway.

If you’re currently waiting in the hallway, like I am, take heart. You are in a sacred, holy place where you are eligible for inspiration and liable to experience miracles.

What guarantees do we have in this life, especially as we wait in the hallway? Are we guaranteed to be free from pain, worry, despair, and adversity? No. Are we guaranteed to get all that we want? No. But when we learn to rely on Christ instead of on ourselves, we—we, who can’t open the door by ourselves—are guaranteed a sure arrival home. Guaranteed the door will open.