When I Thought I Knew What I Needed
There was a time when I was convinced I knew exactly what I wanted.
I offered love honestly. I made time. I showed up with intention and vulnerability. I believed that if I gave enough of myself—care, attention, presence—it would be met with the same sincerity.
Instead, it was rejected.
Not quietly. Not gently. But clearly—especially when what I was offering was given freely to someone else. In real time, it felt personal. It felt like confirmation of old beliefs I was still unlearning.
The Pain of Being Overlooked
That season hurt more than I expected.
It wasn't just the rejection—it was the comparison. Watching someone else receive what I had hoped for stirred questions I didn't want to revisit. Questions about worth. About timing. About whether I was misreading what God was doing in my life.
I didn't feel God's presence then.
I felt exposed.
What I Couldn't See at the Time
Looking back now, I can say something honestly that I couldn't have said then:
That love wasn't part of God's plan for me.
Not because it was bad.
Not because it was malicious.
But because it was incomplete.
What I wanted at the time was real—but it wasn't aligned. I was asking for something that would have kept me reaching instead of receiving, striving instead of resting.
In hindsight, the rejection wasn't cruelty.
It was protection.
How God Redirected Without Explaining
God didn't explain Himself in that season.
There was no clarity. No reassurance. No immediate replacement for what I thought I had lost. Just space—and the quiet work of disentangling my hear from something I wanted badly but wasn't meant to have.
I didn't see God's hand then.
I only see it now.
When the Plan Became Clear
What came later changed everything.
Where there had been uncertainty, there was peace.
Where there had been effort, there was ease.
Where there had been longing, there was fullness.
Eve entered my life not as someone I had to convince—but as someone who showed up already willing. She offered consistency, affection, and safety in ways I didn't realize I had been asking God for all along.
What I thought I wanted before now feels small compared to what I was given.
Trusting the Doors That Close
I've learned that God doesn't always protect us by opening doors.
Sometimes He protects us by closing them—firmly, painfully, without explanation—so we don't settle for something that feels right but isn't meant to last.
In real time, I felt rejected.
In hindsight, I see alignment.
Faith That Makes Sense Later
God's presence wasn't obvious when I was hurting.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't comforting.
It wasn't reassuring.
But it was precise.
Faith didn't make sense in the moment.
It made sense later—when I realized that what I lost was never meant to be mine, and what I gained was exactly what I had been hoping for without knowing how to ask.
"Many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." — Proverbs 19:21