The Door We Thought Would Open
I’ve recently discovered that I may have a rather unusual talent for selling real estate.
Apparently, if you have a property that’s been sitting on the market for a very long time, all you need to do is let me start dreaming about it. I’ll walk through the rooms, imagine what could happen inside, begin making plans, and before you know it, someone will come along and buy it.
You’re welcome.
All kidding aside, I recently received some disappointing news about a historic home I had been dreaming of for Amadea.
The house had been on the market for 557 days. That’s more than a year and a half!
I walked through its rooms and could almost see the women creating beautiful products, learning new skills, and working together. I imagined a welcoming retail space downstairs, filled with handmade jewelry, gifts, and other treasures. Upstairs, there could be room for creating, packaging orders, organizing inventory, and all the behind-the-scenes work that goes into building meaningful employment opportunities.
I could see a place where our community might gather, where volunteers could share their gifts, and where women could develop confidence and practical skills while earning a paycheck.
It seemed like such a wonderful fit for the vision God has been growing in my heart.
Then, within days, I learned that the seller had accepted an offer.
I won’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed. I was. But this time I wasn’t devastated.
I’ve walked through enough doors in my life to know that not every one I hope will open actually does.
Some doors have opened in ways I never could have imagined. Others have closed when I was certain I was heading in the right direction. And there have been seasons when I’ve stood in front of a door for what felt like an awfully long time, wondering whether I was supposed to keep knocking or turn around and look for another way.
I’ve learned that an open door isn’t always an easy one to walk through, and a closed door doesn’t necessarily mean the journey has come to an end.
We can become so attached to what we imagine is on the other side that we forget the door itself was never the destination.
That’s exactly what I’m learning through this particular disappointment.
The house was beautiful, and I could see so much possibility within its walls, but the most important part of what I imagined wasn’t the house at all.
It was the women.
It was the opportunity to create a place where women could learn, work, develop their gifts, and begin building greater financial stability. A place where creativity and community could come together, where a woman could discover the satisfaction of meaningful work, and where she could be encouraged to see possibilities for her future that she may not have imagined before.
That vision hasn’t changed.
The address simply hasn’t been determined.
Proverbs 16:9 reminds us that while we make our plans, the Lord establishes our steps.
I don’t know why this particular house received an offer just as we were beginning to dream about it. I don’t know whether another property will become available next week, next year, or further down the road.
There are seasons when all we can do is keep walking faithfully with what God has already placed in our hands, trusting Him with the parts of the journey we cannot yet see.
In the meantime, there is still so much to be grateful for.
We have a studio where beautiful things are being created. We have women to encourage, relationships to nurture, products to make, orders to fulfill, and opportunities to continue developing. We have supporters who believe in this mission and people who are helping us build something meaningful, one step at a time.
So, our dream of finding a permanent home for Amadea continues. We don’t know what that home will look like or which door will eventually open, but we know why we’re looking.
And while we continue to dream, we’re going to keep creating, keep preparing, keep loving the women God places in our path, and keep trusting Him with the doors ahead.
Created to be Loved. Designed to Shine.
