The Grace in Being Still
Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.
— Psalm 37:4
Dear Journal Buddies,
How are you out there? I hope you’re still with me, quietly reading, maybe sipping coffee, nodding at the screen like we’re on the same page. Sometimes, I feel like we’re all growing old together in this little online nook we’ve carved out—a space where introverts and quiet souls find each other. I miss talking to you this way. And I just want to say thank you. Thank you for being here, for showing up even in silence. This space has become my breath of fresh air, my pause button in a world that moves too fast. Writing has always been my way of slowing things down, of chewing thoughts slowly and savoring the emotions that come with them.
So, don’t tell me you’re still single too? LOL. Just kidding. Sort of. I still have many things I want to do, to build, to pour my heart and hands into. But along the way, the “what ifs” show up like shadows at dusk. What if it never comes—the love, the future I quietly hope for? What if I’m just foolish for believing, for holding out hope for something that may never arrive? What if I end up alone? These aren’t just my thoughts—I’ve heard them echoed by other women who walk the same quiet road, and I know I’m not alone in thinking them.
One of the hardest things I had to learn in this season of singlehood was how it felt to be left behind. When friends step into relationships and build new lives, and suddenly, you’re not part of their story anymore. It’s not that they mean to exclude you. But life shifts. Circles shrink. You find yourself standing outside the frame. It hurt so much back then—but I understand now. And so, I’ve learned to step back with grace, to stop clinging, and to quietly seek new spaces where I still feel seen.
Another struggle that’s harder to talk about is the pressure of being in a relationship. It’s like you’re always being gently “marketed” to someone: “You’re both single, try it out!” And suddenly, your brain leaps from small talk to “Could he be the one?” when really, you just wanted good conversation. It gets even more complicated when kind, smart, well-put-together men show interest—outside of the church, outside of your faith. You start negotiating with God. “Maybe this is the best I’ll get? Maybe he’s a good man, just not a godly one?” And you find yourself caught between surrendering your standards and surrendering your desires.
But here’s what I’ve learned: instead of pushing these feelings away or pretending they don’t exist, I’ve started to sit with them. To let them be. To feel the ache, the hope, the grief, and the growing pains. I don’t want to invalidate them anymore. Because even in the hurting, there’s something beautiful being formed. There’s surrender. There’s the practice of patience and self-control. There’s the decision to focus on what I can do—on what I can give. To learn. To serve. To create. To grow.
One line I love—and maybe you’ve heard it too—is this: “Habang single ka pa, itodo mo na.” And I’ve taken that to heart. While I still have this season, I’ll live it well. I’ll laugh louder, dream deeper, love harder—even if that love is just me loving my life, my family, my friends, my calling. I’ll do all the things I may not get to do once I step into a different season.
So to you, dear buddy, wherever you are in your journey—please know you’re not alone. I see you. I feel you. And I’m rooting for you. Here’s to the beauty of becoming, even when the waiting feels long. And know that God loves you deeply. Learn to know Him, and love Him. Let yourself be delighted in Him. There is joy, even in the stillness. There is purpose, even in the waiting.
With love,
Merrelya (Someone who gets it)
