That morning, I awoke to one simple sentence in my inbox that threw my well-intentioned plans and imaginations for the next 4 - to 30 - years to the wayside.  I realized that the lacquered door I had been knocking at for months until my knuckles bled had always been bolted shut.  When I finally turned away in cold clarity, I was shocked to find right beside it a door open ajar just enough for me to slip through.

Yes, it hurts that my best - truly, my best - was not enough and that I was last pickings, a theme that I may never escape from.  It's hard not to feel like all this time, energy, money, and tears were wasted.  It's shameful that I was the only one who believed I was suited for my dream.  With bitter gratitude, I know that I am being protected from the future that I could never anticipate.  This I know, that I can trust that there's more to the story.

So, I'm still at the threshold and haven't taken my shoes off yet, but it's warm in here.  Voices I don't recognize yet are calling me in.  Soft music is playing around the corner, and there are big windows that let in the light and the breeze.  It's now that I realize deep down what my feeble prayers have been asking - for some place to finally be like home.  For a place where I can be myself, and be at peace.  To one live fully, without having to sacrifice other precious parts of myself or parts of my forever.  For somewhere I can grow roots, where there's room for someone else to grow with and alongside me.  That's all I want.