It seems slow, wait for it, it will surely come; it will not delay. In His appointed time, it will surely come.
He knows my heart—every longing, every dream. There’s nothing I can hide from Him. Yet, when this season comes around, I find myself asking, "When will it be my turn?"
I prayed for a good man, but He said, "No, I'm still preparing the best for you."
So I asked, "But when?"
And He simply said—WAIT.
I met a good man and whispered to myself, "Maybe it's him." I tried to know him better, spent time, and shared moments, and I found myself fascinated. But He said, "NO, surely it’s not him."
I sit here with a quiet ache, wondering if anyone out there waits for me, if someone is whispering my name in their prayer, like I do for them. I set fire to the letters and poems—little pieces of my heart—because He told me it wasn't him. The smoke curled into the sky, carrying away hopes I once held close. He stayed silent when I begged, but He answered my mother instead. It’s strange, feeling like someone else’s prayers are heard while mine seem to drift unanswered, lost in the wind.
When I was a kid, I used to wonder why my mom always prayed at night. I’d pretend to be asleep, but I’d hear her words and sometimes even memorize her prayers. She prayed for my future spouse - a godly man, a kind-hearted man, a man after God's own heart.
Now, as I look back, I realize her prayers shielded me from heartache and trouble. And today, I find myself whispering those same prayers. I know it will come, in His perfect appointed time.
I look up to Him and softly say, "Thank you."
And He replies, "Surely, it will come!"
For still the vision awaits it's appointed time; it hastens to the end- it will not lie. It seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay. Behold, his soul is puffed up, it is not upright with him, but the righteous shall live by faith.
Habakkuk 2:3-4
