Porch Talks: Knocking on Locked Doors

We heard back from the seller today.
Just one line:
“I’ll think about it and get back with you tonight or tomorrow morning.”

And now we wait.

Not just for a text or a call… but for clarity. For peace. For a green light from the Lord or the kind of “no” that feels like a gentle redirection, not rejection. That’s the hardest part, isn’t it? The hallway. The space between the asking and the knowing. Between knocking and something finally creaking open.

And yet—
I’m not praying for it to happen anymore.

I’m praying for His will.
Not mine.
Not even the one that looks perfect on paper.
Not even the one that makes sense financially or fits the dream I’ve carried in my heart for years.

I’ve done the begging before. I’ve done the “please just this once” prayers. But today, I’m doing something different. I’m laying it down. Fully. Open-handed. Not my will, Lord—but Yours.

Because what I want more than anything is to be inside the will of God. Even if it’s not what I pictured. Even if it means staying in the hallway longer than I planned.

Right now, I feel like every door is locked.
I try one. It rattles.
I try another. Stuck.
Another. Nailed shut.
And I cry. I break down. I weep in frustration and weariness.

“But then I wipe the tears. I whisper, ”He’s there.” And I knock again.”

Because someday, one of these doors will open.
Not because I forced it—
But because it was the one He opened.

So tonight, I’m praising Him right here in the hallway.
Among all the locked doors.
Among all the maybes.
Among the things I still don’t understand.

Because I know He’s not just waiting at the finish line.
He’s with me in the hallway.
In the quiet.
In the ache.
In the surrender.

And when the time comes—
We’ll walk through the door He unlocks.
Together.