When One Door Closes, It’s Ok To Mourn.

God always provides us with the encouragement we need when we need it.

Over the weekend, a dream of mine was placed on the back burner in a way.

Last week, I was praying about how much I wanted a specific piece of property for my husband and I to build a house on. I prayed that God would open doors and make a way for us to get it…if that was His will. 

Up until that point, we had our eyes on the land for about 3 years. We already own a home that we have to live in for 2 years (for taxing purposes) before we can put it on the market, so the right time to pursue building our next home never came around.

I hadn’t prayed much about my dream to build right there until the week before God showed me it wasn’t His plan for us right now.

Within days of asking for God’s provision, and above all else, His will, we received news that the property had been purchased. 

But that’s the thing about praying for the “maybes” in our lives. Sometimes it gives God the opportunity to tell us “no” when we’re so hung up on hearing “yes”.

I was deeply disappointed. I went back and forth with grieving and feeling guilty for wrapping so much expectation into something so uncertain and circumstantial. 

Little did I realize, every time I thought of the house that my husband and I would have a family in, I was envisioning us being in that spot. More than me being sad over not getting a certain patch of grass, I was sad to lose the dream of having a cul-de-sac home for my kids across the street from their grandparents.

Throughout this year, I’ve been reading a devotional titled “100 days to brave” by Annie F. Downs.

Let’s say I’ve taken the scenic route through a book that could be finished in a little over 3 months. 

But in my struggle of trying to finish one book before starting another, God used a “weakness” of mine to show Himself to me.

On day 25 of the book, He taught me that it’s brave to dream. This prompted me to pray for an open door to start building a house.

Day 26 showed me to not be afraid of praying hard prayers. Looking back on this devotional, I was encouraged to ask God to open the right doors and close the wrong ones. Though I’m sure, I prayed a little more fervently for an open one.

A couple of days later, after being presented with a closed door, I got around to day 27, which by no coincidence was on closed doors. 

Annie writes, “Brave people commit their work to the Lord and trust that His plan for their lives might not look the way they planned. And that’s okay. If you’re looking at a closed door today, then there’s an open one just around the corner.”

I told myself to get over it. It’s not that big of a deal anyway. The loss of the property doesn’t affect the big picture of our life. We can still build or buy a house somewhere else. God has a plan and it’s not my job to figure it out. But grace.

On day 28, I learned that it’s OK to “mourn dreams that have died”. 

Annie F. Downs tells of her yearning for a husband before her 30s, and subconsciously grieving when this did not come to pass. Annie is comforted when her counselor tells her that “The dreams you thought would come true in a certain time frame never did. You saw a life for yourself that you will never have. You can mourn that loss.” 

And so I did. I let myself grieve for a few days…and then I moved on to the doors that are still open for me.

On day 29, we’re told to “Chase the dreams that are still alive.” 

“God loves to put wings on dreams that His kids chase, dreams that can bring Him glory.”

Having little to do with my classic southern dreams of a white house to clean and babies to kiss, while noble and beautiful on their own, I dream of being a writer and an author.

Although I go through times of feeling discouraged and inadequate in this area of my life, I crave it more than any other earthly goal.

Even when faced with closed doors and disappointments, my dreams are still alive and well, and so are yours.

I Am a Writer.

Writ•er

noun

  • A person who writes books, stories, or articles as a job or regular occupation.

I believe there’s a reason behind nearly everything that we do. Whether it was meeting a social expectation or wanting to impress someone, I’ve done little in my life that was about nothing and no one but me.

Writing is one of the few things I can say I’ve always been passionate about and done for myself.

I’ve found glittery notebooks that my first grade self filled with ramblings of zoo trips and what my mom bought at the grocery store that day. I love seeing how deeply ingrained my need to express myself in this way is.

From as young as age six, I’ve always been very private about my writing. I kept this side of myself tucked away and almost never shared it with anyone.

This is why I never considered writing becoming a career of mine.

Writing’s the only way I’ve ever known how to be vulnerable with no masks, no filter, no standards, and no judgment. I thought my words would lose their value if I shared them with everyone, and I was afraid of not being able to take something personal back once said. I didn’t want my hobby that I enjoy so much to become another responsibility to check off or a deadline to meet.

I didn’t know how to make money from writing in a world that tells us we’re unqualified for basically everything without a degree.

It didn’t feel realistic or doable, so I never pursued it.

Notice one excuse after the other.

After two years of confusion about who I’m supposed to be, what I want to do, or where I’m supposed to start, I realized I wasn’t doing myself any favors by squashing my gift.

I started saying more and more that I would like to be a writer, but I was still fearful and doubting myself. I thought some other form of myself with a more exciting life to talk about could do that. I didn’t believe I was ready or that I had anything to say that would interest anyone.

“Do something today that your future self will thank you for.”

After some time, I decided I don’t want to wait until the perfect opportunity arises. I want this for myself and I want it today. I started calling myself a writer. I started telling people that I am one. I’ve begun speaking into existence what I can see God has been speaking over me my whole life. I feel myself coming into my purpose and morphing into who I’m meant to be. I’ve never felt more like myself.

Sometimes, I still lose eye contact and my voice sounds less sure than usual when I tell someone that I’m a writer. I don’t know what they’ll think of me or if they’ll understand how that can be true. But when I envision a life for myself that I truly love, writing is a big part of that picture, and I don’t want to jeopardize it because of the fear of starting.

I’ve realized it doesn’t matter if someone sees me as unqualified and I decided I don’t need affirmation or permission, from anyone. I don’t need to go to school for what feels like the most natural thing I’ve ever done. Getting out of my comfort zone and getting over myself has been so freeing.

I decided that I am a writer. I was a writer before anyone had the chance to read my work, and I’ll still be one even if no one ever does.

I know I won’t be entirely comfortable and confident in my abilities overnight, and I know I still have so much to learn. I don’t know what my niche is or where I want to end up, but I’ve started taking baby steps in the right direction and I’ve never been more proud of myself.

Imagine your ideal life five years from now. What are you doing? Where are you? Who are you with?

Now, what are you doing to get there? Are you working towards it a little each day? Are you believing that you’ll end up there?

Start today by calling yourself what you want to be in the future. Speak it over your life. Say it every day until you believe it so much that it’s inevitably what you will be.