Last week, I traveled to Boston in pursuit of a dream.

Looking back, it’s kind of a mystical thing to do–spend real money and real time on something as abstract as an dream. I felt very “Eat Pray Love.” My dream was this: to attend grad school at Boston University and study their Emerging Media Studies program in the fall of 2015.

After nearly two years of  fruitless searching for grad programs, I somehow (not even sure how to this day) found this program last winter. I was at my most miserable, as my foot was newly broken, and the program seemed like a total God-send. Every line about the program seemed like it was written for me in mind. Maybe finding the BU program was why I broke my foot, I reasoned to myself (a recurring thought said about many different things during my 8 month foot break journey.)

And then suddenly this summer, life somehow slowed down into stagnancy. Everything suddenly felt plodding and aimless. I was at a proverbial fork in the road and needed answers, and not just from an admissions website. Sometimes with dreams you have to actually do something; there’s a time for talking, sitting, or reading, and then there’s a time to go.

So off to Boston I went. On the plane, I asked God to give me peace and confidence about moving forward to attend BU in the fall. I knew that if it was the path for me, I would know it by the end of my trip.

And the best part is that God gave me an answer.

The worst part was that it was a no.

BU is not where I am supposed to be next fall. My journey back to Pittsburgh had become a 600 mile funeral march rather than a victory procession.

Nobody tells you what to do when you witness a dream die.

Everyone says “When one door closes, another opens,” but why bother showing the door that’s about to close if it’s not going to stay open? I don’t understand why God shows us doors that look absolutely right, only to close them.

God always has something better, but sometimes it’s s difficult to see past the chaotic feelings of displacement and disappointment. Life is not nearly as neatly packaged as the metaphors we use to describe it. Sometimes a “chapter” ends and other times, the entire “book” is doused with gasoline and set on fire.

I don’t have answers. I just have a tiny glimmer of hope (based on the past) that the best is yet to come. So, as I face this nameless, faceless “other path” from that fork in my road, here’s to hoping for that.