DFH Season One, Episode Three: Patiently but Anxiously Waiting For You

Intro

Waiting can feel both hopeful and heavy. There’s the excitement of possibility, but also the fear of disappointment.

In my Dear Future Husband series, I’ve been unpacking letters I once wrote during my single season, reflections on love, faith, and the lessons learned along the way.

Today, I want to pause with a line from my very first letter that still feels tender and real for me:

“I am patiently but anxiously waiting for you, waiting for God to reveal you to me. But I’m scared. Will I recognize you? My mindset is slightly different now, but would I still make the same mistakes again? Would I end up pushing you away? Don’t let me drive you away if you are sure of God’s revelation.”

Those words came from a place of tension—part trust, part fear, part desperation. Looking back, I can see how my longing for love often became tangled with my longing for validation.

A woman looking out a window, watching and waiting.

Reflection

Before the Letters – The Search for Validation

Before I ever started writing letters to my future husband, I was desperate for affirmation. After losing my mom and surviving my car accident, everything about how I saw myself shifted. I had to shave my head, and for a time, I looked like a boy. As my hair was slowly growing back, my body was changing, and honestly, I didn’t feel beautiful.

My dad was physically present, but not in the way I needed him emotionally. I didn’t have that fatherly validation that said, “You’re beautiful. You are enough.” Without it, I searched for it elsewhere. In seventh grade, I remember sitting in class with my little afro and comb twists, only to hear a classmate say, “You look like a boy.” It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, but over time, those words weighed on me.

I was also struggling with clothes. I didn’t have my mom around to guide me. My aunt and church members tried to help, but their suggestions felt forced, as if they were pushing me into something I wasn’t ready for. I wore hats, pants, sneakers—whatever was in my closet. Going to church was a matter of pulling together whatever fit, not what made me feel confident. Without money to shop or a clear sense of style, I didn’t always present myself in a way that matched how I wanted to be seen. It was a hard transition into becoming a young woman.

Mistaking Attention for an Answered Prayer

By high school, things changed gradually. I experimented with colors, wore jeans and sneakers most of the time, but tried to dress more feminine for church. By college, I felt more confident. I moved to Boston, started working, made money, and for the first time, had control over my wardrobe and my image. I thought I had met “the one.” He spoke and noticed me. And that was enough for me to label it as an answered prayer. I still remember kneeling at a Wednesday night prayer meeting, whispering, “Lord, thank You for answering my prayers. Thank you for this companionship. He’s from church. He likes me. This has to be you.”

But the truth was, I was convincing myself. I ignored the red flags. I excused the sneaking around. I looked past the fact that he had dated a friend of mine.

Have you ever prayed a prayer that sounded holy, but deep down you knew you were just trying to convince yourself? That was me. Eventually, I gave in, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And when it all came crashing down, I felt empty. I was angry with myself, asking over and over, “How could I let this happen?”

A Quick “Yes” Out of Fear

Not long after, loneliness drove me to slip again. First, with the same guy. And when my heart broke again, I slipped once more. Desperation pushed me online. That’s where I met someone new. Within a week of talking, we met in person, and that very night, he asked me to be his girlfriend. Without hesitation, I said yes.

Why?

Because he chose me quickly.

In my last situationship, I was left wondering, “What are we?” This time, I didn’t have to ask. He claimed, accepted me right away, and that made me feel secure. But the truth was, I was chasing the feeling of being chosen, not the reality of being loved. I didn’t want the opportunity to pass me by. I knew I deserved better but I wasn’t willing to wait. And yet, the same patterns emerged. The relationship was filled with red flags. He shared dark confessions, including struggles with suicidal thoughts. My compassion made me cling tighter. I cared for him deeply, but beneath it all, the relationship wasn’t healthy. God had already whispered to me that it wouldn’t last. In fact, I sensed it would only last three and a half months—and that’s exactly what happened. When it ended, I was right back where I started: alone, searching, and anxious.

The Turning Point

Through these experiences, I saw the pattern:

• I confused availability with God’s will.

• I confused my desire to be chosen with God’s confirmation.

• I wasn’t waiting patiently—I was waiting anxiously.

That anxious waiting led me to settle for what was convenient instead of trusting God for what was covenanted. It wasn’t until my last breakup, when I was serving as the youngest elder in my church, that I had to face the truth: I couldn’t lead while living in compromise. That breakup became my turning point.

I began asking God the hard questions: “Why do I keep repeating the same cycles?” “Do you even want me to be married?”

And God’s answer came quietly, but clearly: “Learn to enjoy Me. Learn to enjoy yourself.”

Learning to Wait with God

That realization changed everything. I thought I had been praying for a man—but really, I was praying for peace. The kind of peace that feels like safety. The peace that comes from being seen and loved without performing. The spiritual safety that can only come from being in alignment with God’s will. So I started choosing peace over panic. I began taking myself out on dates, crocheting again, writing again, walking through Boston with no destination, just peace. I stopped asking when my future husband would come, and started asking who God was shaping me to become.

That’s when I wrote this line:

“I am patiently but anxiously waiting for you.”

But now I understand: I wasn’t waiting for him anymore—I was learning to wait with God. I was waiting for the real me to surface, to stand up for myself.

Lessons for Patiently Waiting

There’s a difference between waiting in fear and waiting in faith.

• Anxious waiting is restless. It says, “If I don’t act now, I’ll miss my chance.”

• Patient waiting is rooted in trust. It says, “If this is from God, nothing can stop it. And if it’s not, I don’t want it.”

Psalm 27:14 reminds us:

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord.”

Waiting doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means preparing, growing, healing, and trusting—so when the right person comes, you’re ready to recognize God’s revelation.

Journal Prompt for You

Think back to a time when impatience led you to accept less than what God wanted for you.

• What signs did you ignore?

• How can you shift from anxious waiting to patient, trusting faith today?

Conclusion

These stories aren’t easy to revisit, but they remind me of how far I’ve come. What once felt like desperation now looks, in hindsight, like preparation.

Waiting on God isn’t about passively sitting still—it’s about allowing Him to shape us in the process.

Anxious waiting says, “If I don’t act now, I’ll miss my chance.”

Patient waiting says, “If this is from God, nothing can stop it. And if it’s not, I don’t want it.”

I’m learning to choose patience over fear, faith over desperation, and peace over panic. Because love doesn’t begin when someone chooses you. It begins the moment you finally choose to grow with God.

Read more letters from my single season: 

Read full letter here: Episode 1 – On Waiting, Healing & Harmony

Read Quote 1 reflection here: Episode 2 – Choosing Myself

🎧 Listen to this reflection on the DeNight Owl Speaks podcast.