Peace in the Waiting

For a long time, I used to crave being wanted.
Not in the healthy kind of way that grows from mutual love and respect, but in the kind that made me feel seen for a moment, even if it wasn’t real.

I used to sit there waiting for a text to light up my phone. Waiting for someone to tell me I was beautiful, or that they missed me. I waited for attention like it was air. I mistook being chosen for being cherished, and I confused consistency with love.

Somewhere along the way, I learned how to live on crumbs of validation. Little moments that made me feel something, even if it faded the next day.

And then one day, I just got tired.

Not bitter. Not jaded. Just tired.

Tired of chasing people who were never meant to stay.
Tired of asking God why He wouldn’t let the temporary ones last.
Tired of giving pieces of myself to people who never knew what to do with them.

I think motherhood changed me in ways I wasn’t expecting. Becoming a single mom stripped away every illusion I had about needing someone else to complete me. When it was just me and my son, I learned what real love feels like - pure, steady, unconditional. The kind that doesn’t ask for performance, it just exists.

When I’m with him, I don’t feel the same ache I used to. I don’t feel the need to prove myself or earn someone’s attention. I feel chosen already, in the most unexpected and sacred way.

Being a single mom has made me softer and stronger all at once. There are nights when I sit on the couch after he’s fallen asleep, the house finally quiet, and I talk to God out loud. I tell Him how much I still want to share my life with someone. How I still dream of partnership, of being truly seen. There are nights when I still cry and whisper, “When is it my turn?”

But I’ve noticed something different in my prayers lately.
The tears are gentler. The ache isn’t desperate anymore.

I still want my soulmate, but I’m not craving them. I don’t need someone to validate that I’m doing a good job. I don’t need constant attention to feel alive. I don’t need to be pursued to feel worthy. I am already loved by a God who knows every hidden part of me, and still calls me His.

Maybe that’s what healing really looks like. Not erasing the desire, but learning to live peacefully with it. Knowing it’s okay to hope for love, while not hinging your worth on when it arrives.

This quiet season feels like a kind of protection. God has me here on purpose. I think He’s showing me how to love my own life first, before anyone else joins it.

I am learning that peace isn’t the absence of longing—it’s the presence of trust.
Trust that God’s promises don’t expire.
Trust that the right person will find me when the story calls for it.
Trust that I am not behind, not forgotten, not missing out.

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”
Psalm 37:4

And maybe that’s the point.
To delight myself in Him first.
To build a life that already feels full.
To love the season I’m in, even when it looks nothing like I imagined.

Because what if the waiting isn’t punishment?
What if it’s preparation?

What if God isn’t withholding love, but teaching me what it’s supposed to feel like—through the way I love my child, the way I take care of us, the way I keep showing up even when no one’s watching?

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
Exodus 14:14

I’m learning to be still. To rest in the truth that I don’t have to chase what’s already written for me. I don’t have to earn what’s already mine.

Father, thank You for meeting me in the quiet.
For showing me that I don’t have to fill every empty space with noise.
Help me to keep my heart soft while I wait.
Teach me to delight in You, to trust Your timing, and to stop reaching for things that are not meant for me.
Remind me that my worth is not tied to being chosen by anyone else.
You already chose me. You already called me loved.
Give me peace in this season, and hope for the next.
Amen.