God closed a door today before I had a chance to approach its threshold.

I was unsure if it was right for me, this big, beautiful door–but it’s a door I desperately wanted to pass through. It stood on a hill, wide open, and beyond it I saw a land flowing with milk and honey, freckled with glimpses of what I believed were meaning, purpose, solution. I had prayed for weeks, staring up at it from my valley below, wrestling with whether or not I should lug one heavy foot in front of the other to climb up to its threshold. Hope looked bright beyond the door. I wondered if my eyesight needed to be checked. I’d prayed that God would close this door that stood so invitingly before me if what I believed to be beautiful and full of meaning turned out to be a mirage of the heart.

Weeks of staring up at this door from my valley, and today, the door gently closed, simultaneously snuffing out the flickering hope of my daydream, and, giving me some space to breathe again.

This closure is a blessing. It’s what I’d asked for. It’s one less thing to worry and stress over, one less decision to make, one less thing on my table. He closed the door for me, an act dripping with gentle mercy and tender love.

And yet, it’s still so hard.

Letting go of dreams will forever be hard. And in this moment of childlike disappointment, looking out into the gray rainy sky through this coffee shop window, I’m resolving. To learn how to dream better dreams. Dreams that God would never have me let go.