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Where Does Your Story Begin? I'm not asking when you were born, but when you discovered yourself? What moment in your lifetime becomes the beginning of the next chapter? The moment you look at yourself and ask, "Who am I?", "What do I want to be?", "Where do I go from here?". This question isn’t philosophical, but the foundation of how we discover our purpose. Joyful beginnings: Your first day of leaving home for college Landing your first career job Discovering your hobby The joys of having your first romantic relationship Holding your firstborn in your arms Watching children leave the nest Painful beginnings: The death of a loved one Surviving a near-death experience Facing an accident that changed everything Losing a long-time job Dropping out of college Turning Points That Define Us Many events can be the turning point in our lives. What is yours? How did you react when it was happening? Was it an immediate revelation that things were different and going to change, or did it take years to put the pieces together? My Story of Coma, Loss, and Rediscovery My story began when I was 10 years old and fully regained awareness after being in and out of a coma for 4 days. I had a near-death experience. On the fourth day, as I began to awake, my senses felt sharper as though I was relearning the world. I watched everyone and everything as much as I could remember. Unconsciously, I knew what had happened and where I was, but consciously, I couldn't recall anything from that moment. I was physically present and knew everyone. However, I couldn't remember anything mentally. I could recall general information from the past, but I couldn't remember any specific details. Mentally, I was starting over with reality. I was at the mercy of others to fill in the blanks. I was at my mercy, lost in the process of rediscovering myself. Relearning my likes, dislikes, and hobbies and interacting with others helped me to think and defend myself while finding new qualities. I was learning to navigate a world where my mom was no longer present, the one person who knew my strengths and weaknesses. I realized that death was part of life and learned how to navigate through the trials. It all came with its challenges, but it wasn't without resilience. How Faith Revealed My Purpose My story stopped and resumed sixteen years ago today, on November 30, 2008. While I lost my mom to death, I lost myself to life. I lost only four days, but it was enough to unravel my sense of time and purpose. For me, losing my mom was just a part of my journey that only led me to my purpose in this world. I had a second chance at life, physically and mentally. It may have felt selfish at times, but I was looking for answers to why God spared my life, and I only endured what I did. Today, I am proud to say that after all the mental, emotional, and spiritual warfare with myself and my loved ones, I can tell my purpose has become more apparent, and it's revealed to me every day. Unfortunately, it has taken over 10 years to discover. Young woman walking alone on a path, symbolizes the start of a new journey of faith and purpose. Only through trial, prayer, and forgiveness have I begun to see God's plan more clearly. With each challenge, God has revealed new insights that have changed my perspective and taught me more about His ultimate plan. However, God revealed each item at distinct moments, knowing I was ready to receive His insight. It took patience and faith, but I was open to receiving. What About Your Story? I don't know what you are struggling with or what life's journey has taken you on, whether negative or positive. Where does your story begin? What has been the turning point in your story that made you discover or feel a sense of purpose? If you haven't found your purpose yet, be patient and forgive yourself for not knowing it. Embrace new possibilities, even those that seem unfamiliar or unlikely. Don’t stay stuck in what could have been. Push forward with patience and faith. The road isn’t easy, but nothing is in vain. "Your temporary pain can lead to an everlasting gain: your purpose." "Where Does Your Story Begin?" Video Written by Nathifa Debellotte, writer of the DeNight Owl and hostess of DeNight Owl Speaks

Inspired quote for post Have you ever had a loved one, a friend, someone who cared for you, grew up with you, or who you grew fond of over the years? Have they, when things didn’t seem to go their way, remind you of everything they have done for you? Have you done something for others, not for them but for your gratification? We all have been guilty of this at least once, but let’s focus on when we become victims. At some point in our lives, we learn or have a clearer vision of people’s true intentions. I knew this after a minor incident, which I realize shouldn’t have escalated the way it did, but you can be the judge of this. For many years, this incident played a significant role in my personal growth, but I’ve been able to work through it for myself, whether received or not. I tried voicing my concerns about what happened more than once to relieve my conscience, but instead of trying to understand my point of view, they played the victim. Setting the stage… One Sabbath morning at church, I was talking to a church member. While conversing, I saw my aunt walk in, carrying food. I was talking to someone, so I decided to finish. I noticed she left after I finished. I can’t remember if it happened when I entered the sound room or minutes later, but my phone started ringing. It was my aunt. On the phone, my aunt was crying. Overall, she was saying, “How could you treat me like that? You saw me and didn’t even acknowledge me. What could I have ever done to you?” To start, she had every right to say and feel the way she did. If that were me, I would be sad not to be acknowledged. However, I wouldn’t have acted the way she did. But of course, I can’t compare her to myself. Listening to her on the phone made me resent her. I was not too fond of how she carried herself on the phone. In my opinion, she felt like she was so important that I had to stop what I was doing and acknowledge her immediately. Of course, I could have if I wanted to, but I didn’t. There was more to it, but it didn’t affect what I had learned and seen myself regarding her personality. A personality that didn’t sit right with my spirit. Her next steps only validated or added to my observation and perspective of her character. It was all coming to light. I thought the problem was resolved, but I was wrong. What she did next and continued to do took this to another level—an unforgivable level. After I spent the night reflecting on and questioning her actions, I received a call the following day. I was half asleep but overheard the house phone after not answering. When I finally got up, I was told to call my aunt. My dad and I spoke and noticed she had updated him. My dad has had years of experience with her, so he understood what happened and told me to call back and apologize again. I thought this was over, but clearly, it wasn’t. I called my aunt back when I was ready, and here is where I lost all respect. On the phone, she expressed, again, how she was hurt and cried by what I did. Asking, ‘How could I do that? What has she ever done to me for me to treat her that way?’ Then she started reflecting on what she had done for my other church brothers and sisters, how she was there for them, how they respected her and told her their good news. She also reflected on what she had done for my sister and me when we were younger and after our mom passed. I was so annoyed listening but realized her actions; however, they were admirable endeavors and acts of love, which weren’t genuine selfless love. I started to pull away entirely and couldn’t forgive her for how she acted. When I thought this was over, she brought up the history of what she has done for us. I explained over 7-8 years how her behavior affected me, but I couldn't get my point of view of getting across, so I needed to move on. Today, our relationship is entirely different. I have forgiven her, not only for her but for myself. I had to place my own set of boundaries, whether it was received or not. Because of her prominent role in the life of my family and church family, I can’t run and hide forever. However, my words are few, and our encounters are slim. Everything happens for a reason, and I thank God for showing me her true intentions and how to enforce my boundaries better. I could go into great detail, but someone said it best: “When someone says, ‘after all I’ve done for you…’ they are revealing that what they did for you was not for you at all, but for their own need to control you. Their generosity was a contract with hidden terms.” Beware of those who continuously do things for you without you even asking. It may seem harmless, but they might end up using it against you when they can’t seem to have their way. Definitely “for their own need to control you.” Try to sift through who they are, and what they plan to do to see if their intentions are pure or they aren’t doing something that can easily be back in their favor. Sometimes its completely harmless and they really mean well, but different perspectives can blur the lines of ones true intensions. You have to make sure you understand the fine print before getting caught up in their generosity; their ‘contract with hidden terms.’.

A year now That I've loved you And it just doesn't seem To flee I wanted to know you No...I needed to know I was n too deep When you started talking to me Along the way There was something No someone blocking Someone who didn't surprise me I've done my part And they showed up Killing the opportunity Of you ever being with me Yea I'm young Big deal My heart and love is bigger Bigger than my age. A heart that aches Aches for you But instead is trapped, Trapped in a sealed cage Met people Felt different things But out of them all You are the one that stands out You're extremely different I can't stay mad at you I just can't explain I'm letting my love way out. I continue and continue And I just can't seem to stop I know I will hurt over and over But that's just how much I love you At the end of the day When all is said and done When I've given up My heart, my heart will always beat for you.

We've been together For a few days now And ever since I've been happy and proud That night We made love Our connection and position just Fitted together like a glove I've never felt so close, like that, To a woman in my life Well that must be a good sign Because I want to keep you in my life Someone came along And you didn't know who to choose You wanted to see Who was the right one for you After one night You picked your guy You didn't want to commit Because you were too shy You picked me By a landslide Now I'm officially yours And you're officially mine. Poem written for my novel "The Scars Still Hurt"

I look in her eyes And I see a true beauty I'm not telling a lie I mean it truly I've known her For a year now But she never looked my way Until now Now I know When my future lies It's right here Looking into her eyes Poem written for my novel "The Scars Still Hurt"

We have been going out For a while now And I don't regret it Not one day in my life I know we were moving Too fast But I am glad I came in time Or you would have been sad For the rest of your life I thank God for you Everyday For sending you to me And putting us together And it was because of my smile That changed our faith and life And put us together Poem was written for "We Can See The Future Now"

When I looked at you I knew it was too good To be true As we sat and talked You saw the real me And I saw the real you. When I called you, That night I was scared, terrified And trembling inside What you might say When I asked you If you would be mine And come into my heart and stay. We had a rough start When we started going out You were hurt And disrespected But I don't regret Being with you When we were both mistreated Weeks have passed And we started feeling A physical attraction for each other, When we expressed our love That night in "My Angel Forever." It was exciting and fun Because I got to share My love With my only true one. My angel, Natalie Please save a spot In your life, in the future For me. Poem written for my first novel "We Can See The Future Now"

My love for you Is worst than before The love I had For my first love whom I adored. You are like A dream come true You do certain things That make me adore you You are nice And understanding You are there when I need you Which is not surprising.

Feature Quote: “… I am no longer dealing with one-sided relationships. I need to be met halfway.” When I wrote these words, two things were on my mind. I was reflecting on a situation I had just exited, even though I knew how he felt. I was also contemplating my friendships and family relationships. The Weight of Expectations I had reached a point where I was utterly tired. Tired of being the one who always reached out, planned events, and checked in on everyone. In my non-romantic relationships, I was the one who cared the most. I was the first to text, to ask how people were doing. Yet, no one checked in on me. I mean no one . The only time I heard from most people was when they wanted something, not a simple “Hi, how are you?” I realized I was holding others in a higher regard than they held me. So, I had to make a decision. I needed to stop expecting others to treat me the way I treated them. That was my expectation, not theirs. Maybe some people are just bad at texting. Perhaps it’s easier for them to talk in person, where conversation flows naturally as if no time has passed. But even then, I had to learn an important truth: who I thought was close to me didn’t always see me the same way. Redefining Friendship I also had to confront my own complex and challenging definition of what “friend” meant. Not everyone considered me one. To some, I was just an acquaintance — someone they knew by association, from school, church, or family circles. For me, connection was something sacred. If I felt any bond or shared moment with someone, I remembered where we met, what we talked about, and how they made me feel. Maybe that came from my accident and the memory loss that followed. Because I couldn’t remember certain parts of my life, I paid more attention to the things and people I could remember. I think I held on to people more deeply because remembering them made me feel grounded. And maybe that’s just life; we all remember the people and moments that leave an impression. A Personal Revelation When I look back, that quote wasn’t really about anyone else. It was for me . It was a reminder to do differently. It wasn’t a boundary for others; it was a boundary for myself. A promise to guard my heart, lower my expectations, and see people exactly as they show up. No more, no less. The same principle applied to my future relationships. Almost every relationship I’d ever been in happened by circumstance. We were already talking casually, and it just naturally turned into something. Sometimes, I was the one who made the first move. I told my crushes I liked them, especially if we were already friends. At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal. But as I grew older, I wondered how that looked to others. I started to feel like it made me look desperate, especially in spaces like school or church. But now I know I was just searching for mutual effort. I wanted to be met where I was. The Shift in Perspective That awareness changed everything. It helped me in all areas of my life: friendships, family, and love. I realized I wasn’t guarding my heart or protecting my feelings the way I should have. That pattern showed up in my relationships too. None of my relationships felt intentional. They just kind of… happened. Maybe one or two started naturally, but even then, I often knew deep down that they weren’t going anywhere. Still, I stayed because I didn’t mind at the time. But my last situationship taught me the hardest lesson. I poured so much of myself into it, even though I knew early on it wouldn’t last. And it backfired. I got hurt deeply. A Letter of Change When I wrote this letter, I also penned another line that went with it: “So please don’t come and waste my time. Please know what you want, especially who you want.” That part came straight from that last situationship. He had feelings for me, but he didn’t want anything serious. He enjoyed my energy, my attention, my care, but he wasn’t ready to match my intention. To be fair, it wasn’t all on him. When he told me what he wanted, or didn’t want, I didn’t leave. I stayed. That hurt even more because I ignored the truth he had already given me. But that letter changed me. It woke me up. It made me realize I was done being anyone’s second option. And I meant that. Embracing Accountability After writing that letter, at the very beginning of my single season, I decided to hold myself accountable to my own words. I meant it when I said I wanted to be met halfway. I meant it when I said I didn’t want my time wasted. Keeping that promise to myself changed everything. The next relationship I entered was with my fiancé. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t waste time. When he knew he was interested, he courted me intentionally, prayerfully, and purposefully. He knew what he wanted, and he knew who he wanted. And God has been blessing our union ever since. Lessons Learned This quote wasn’t about cutting people off — it was about learning balance. It was a reminder that love, friendship, and effort should flow both ways. Here’s what I learned: Reciprocity matters. You deserve relationships where care, effort, and communication go both directions. Awareness is protection. Pay attention to patterns. When someone keeps showing you who they are, believe them. Boundaries are self-love. Saying “I need to be met halfway” isn’t cold — it’s clarity. Healing changes standards. The more you heal, the less you chase what doesn’t honor you. Reflection Prompt Take a moment to ask yourself: Where in your life are you giving more than you’re receiving? What would it look like to pause, protect your peace, and wait to be met halfway? In the quiet moments of reflection, I invite you to explore the depths of your own heart. As you navigate your relationships, remember that you are worthy of the same love and effort you give. Embrace the journey of self-discovery and healing. You are not alone in this sacred dance of connection.

Welcome to Episode Two of my "Dear Future Husband: Letters From My Single Season" series. I began with the first letter I ever wrote during my single season. Each episode unpacks a different quote from that letter, diving deeper into the journey behind it — the experiences that shaped me, the lessons I learned, and the insights I hope will speak to you, too. Find the original letter here. Dear Future Husband: Season One, Episode One: On Waiting, Healing and Harmony. Featured Quote I am learning to be okay by myself and enjoy my own company. Easier said than done — but that one sentence carried years of silent battles. Reflection A. When Alone Feels Lonely For a long time, I didn't like my own company. This didn’t mean I always disliked myself or didn’t know how to be alone. But there were moments I truly hated it. I confused being alone with being lonely. I thought alone and lonely were the same, but here is what I learned: Alone is the physical state of being by yourself. It can be a choice and isn't inherently negative. Lonely is the emotional state of feeling disconnected, even in the presence of others. This was me — disconnected. I love my solitude, especially since I'm an introvert. I cherish staying at home where it’s quiet and peaceful. In those moments, I can be myself without interruption. But I didn’t get out much. I didn’t have many friends. Even when I wanted to do something fun, I hesitated. I often asked myself, Why should I have to enjoy life by myself when I’m already by myself most of the time? B. Patterns of Unreciprocated Love I had a deeper issue — a fear that showed up in how I interacted with others and shaped my future relationships. I’ve lived a lifetime of caring deeply, holding people close in my heart, only for it to not be reciprocated. I was always the one reaching out and checking in, yet I was rarely given the same thought in return. Because I didn’t have many close friends or get invited places often, I felt left out. I felt lonely. I’d wonder, If something happened to me, would anyone even notice? If they cared, wouldn’t they reach out? Wouldn’t they let me know I was on their mind? This wasn’t just present in my friendships — it showed up in my romantic encounters, too. It started as early as fifth grade, but it intensified when someone finally showed real interest in me. He was the first guy I believed genuinely liked me, and I fell in love with the idea of him. He found me attractive and gave me the attention I had longed for. I made compromises to keep that connection. I was willing to do almost anything — and, of course, it didn’t end well. That relationship began a cycle: anyone who gave me a certain level of attention, I’d start developing feelings for. I thought I was in love — but looking back, it was more physical than emotional. I was infatuated with the idea of someone getting to know me, taking me out, paying attention. I gave so much of myself, but rarely received the same in return. I’d end up being used or dropped — especially once I stopped compromising or they lost interest. Some of them enjoyed the chase. Some just liked the power. And in the end, I kept losing pieces of myself trying to hold on. But with every relationship, I grew stronger. I slowly realized I deserved better. I stopped compromising my beliefs and started reinforcing my boundaries. I learned to pause before jumping in. I learned to ask if what I was giving was also being given back. I still slipped once, but that moment made me reevaluate everything. It was time to choose me. It was time to protect my heart — even more than I had the last time — and focus on becoming whole. A girl choosing herself C. Choosing Myself, Trusting God In my last situation-ship, a friend and spiritual mentor said something that stayed with me: “If a guy has to second guess whether he wants to be with you, he’s not right for you. You are no one’s second option.” It took me a while to fully accept that truth, not until I broke my own heart. I was at my lowest. But I finally knew I deserved better. So I ended things, set firm boundaries, and walked into a new light. It was time to focus on me. On what I wanted — who I wanted to become. It was time to fully surrender my relationship status into God’s hands and let Him lead. Until then, it was me time . I needed to be comfortable and confident in my own skin, not dependent on someone else to make me feel good about myself. I wasn’t angry at my last experience, but I did pray. I asked God for forgiveness so that I wouldn’t put myself through that kind of pain again. That I would learn the lesson this time. I started praying deeply honest prayers: “God, am I meant to be married? Not everyone gets married — but if it’s your will for me not to, help me be okay with that.” Other times, I pleaded: “I desire to be married. I know I will be married. You placed that desire in my heart, so I will wait on You and Your timing.” Those prayers led to the opening lines of my letter — and into the next episode of this journey. Even when I couldn’t always pray with words, I wrote. That’s how I process. Writing has always been how I talk to God. And as I wrote, He began to speak. He revealed things I hadn’t seen. He helped me reflect, surrender, and slowly trust Him with the one thing I held onto the tightest: my longing to be loved. Lessons for Choosing Myself During this process, here are a few lessons I learned. Attention isn’t affection. I learned just because someone sees you doesn’t always mean they value you. I mistakenly interpreted consistent messages or flirtation as care. But I've learned that true affection shows up in how someone honors your heart , not just your presence and what they can get from you. I've learned this both ways. It's not only about the attention they give — it's about the intention behind it. I should never be a man’s second option. While my mind knew this to be true, my heart wouldn't accept it. If I'm not his clear choice, I don't belong in his orbit. Being someone's maybe was a slow heartbreak. I deserved someone who chose me — without hesitation, without backup plans, and without needing to be convinced. I don’t need a partner to make me feel whole. I believed that love would "complete" me. I always wanted companionship. But I've come to understand that wholeness isn't something a person gives you — it's something God grows in you. If I have to lose myself every time I develop feelings for someone, do I really love myself? It's abandonment of self in the place of connection. Today I'm no longer willing to compromise my values, boundaries, or peace just to keep someone around. Not every crush is meant to be a relationship. Not everyone who made me laugh deserved a second thought. And not every emotional spark needed to turn into a fire. These weren't easy truths to accept, but they were necessary. I had to learn them the hard way — not with a single heartbreak, but through a series of small compromises that taught me who I was and what I was worth. And now I choose me. And this is only the beginning. Journal Prompt for You In what ways have you confused attention with affection, or love with validation? What would choosing you, fully, kindly, and without compromise, look like today? Let’s talk about it inside the community I’ve posted this prompt in the “Dear Future Husband: Lessons & Reflections” group and our forum under the Journal Reflections thread. If you feel led, come share your thoughts, responses, or simply read what others are processing in this season. Join the conversation here: Visit the Group Discussion Read or share in the Forum Thread Whether you journal privately or share publicly, your voice matters — and your healing is welcome here.

A best friend, aunt, and sister. A grandson and nephew. A mother, elder, and matriarch. A wife and mother to three girls. A son, brother, and friend. A dear teacher and colleague. A close friend and high school classmate. A grandmother and mother. An aunt, sister, and mother. A wife and mother to two sons. A grandmother and great-grandmother to many and mother to five. A dear and loved church member and Sabbath School teacher. A beloved mother of mine. A beloved wife, beloved sister, and beloved daughter. Many more in between, too many to count, but too many to endure. Listed in reverse chronological order, each name represents a memory, a loss, a wound that hasn’t fully healed. Whether it was a family member, someone dear to me, or dear to a loved one, it’s been too much to bear. A woman sitting outside a church Sitting Outside Another Funeral I sat outside my friend’s aunt’s funeral, and my spirit was grieved. I felt sorrow not just for my friend, but for myself and my own psychological health. The last funeral I attended left me discouraged. Little did I know I would soon attend two more. The very concept of a funeral was becoming mundane. It felt like another long, drawn-out version of a church service. It’s supposed to be a celebration of life, yet it feels morbid. Yes, there is occasional laughter as people share beautiful memories, but even that laughter carries the weight of loss. Who Is the Service For? Who is the service really for? Is it for the family, for closure, for comfort? Some show up because they’ve been away or indifferent, whether their loved ones are dead or alive. Others come to talk, to catch up, to be seen. Some don’t even want to be there. And then there are the familiar phrases: “I’m sorry for your loss.” “I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” “If they were here…” The list goes on. Why must we be reminded, over and over, every time someone speaks? For some, a funeral service brings healing. For others, it’s deeply traumatic. It forces you to relive the pain from just days ago, to remember how your loved one died, to see them lying still in a casket. That image becomes the last lingering memory you must now fight to replace with how they were — full of color, laughter, and life. So why can’t we do that instead? Why can’t we celebrate their life without reliving their death? Why not remember them in their prime? Imagine them still with us, just away on a long trip, until the day we meet again. I know it’s easier said than done. But the human mind and heart can only take so much. The Weight of Too Many Goodbyes Today, we are losing more and more people. How can we endure it all? How do the pastors do it, standing before the grieving, week after week, preaching hope to people whose hearts are breaking? How many ways can one speak of heaven, resurrection, and joy in the morning before the words start to ache? We were told these dark days would come, that loss would surround us. But how do we hold on when we’re forced to mourn three, four, or even five times in a single season? When Hope Sounds Like Sadness I sat outside the church with my phone in my hand and started to write this. I could hear the pastor speaking, the church singing. A song meant to bring hope was now soaked in sorrow. How can I keep coming back to church and sing the same songs if they’re tainted by memories of funerals? How can we expect people to keep praising a God who gives life yet allows death, even when we know death is the result of sin and disobedience? For those who are spiritually weary, funerals can become the very thing that drives them further from God. Spiritual Fatigue: No More Funerals No more funerals. At least not for now. I’m choosing to live. To keep breathing, laughing, and finding joy before grief drains it all away. It’s not that I don’t care when someone loses a loved one; I do. But I no longer have the capacity to comfort others when I can barely comfort myself. It’s not about being heartless; it’s about protecting what’s left of my peace. Do I allow myself to mourn every death, to feel every loss? Or do I guard my heart and keep my hope alive, knowing joy will come in the morning even when the nights feel endless? I know who my God is. I know why we suffer the things of this world. But if I allow myself to continuously grieve, I fear I’ll lose my spirit and, with it, my faith. I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want the songs I love to be tainted by sadness. I want to sing unto God with joy and laughter again. I want to keep believing that hope still exists even in these gloomy days ahead. Because even though my spirit is tired, I’m still reaching for light. Until Then After I finished writing, one song quietly came to mind — one that has always found me in moments like this: “Until Then.” My heart can sing when I pause to remember, A heartache here is but a stepping stone, Along a trail that’s winding always upward, This troubled world is not my final home. But until then, my heart will go on singing, Until then, with joy I’ll carry on, Until the day my eyes behold the city, Until the day God calls me home. Maybe that’s the reminder I needed. Even when my spirit is tired, my song doesn’t have to stop — it can simply soften until heaven restores my strength. 🎵 * Listen to “Until Then” — a hymn that found me as I wrote these words. On Spotify

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.