I recently had the pleasure of having lunch with a friend — someone I cherish, trust, and hold very close to my heart. On the surface, it was simple. Nothing extravagant. Nothing out of the ordinary.
And yet, I left different.
I will forever be different.
And for that, I am deeply grateful.
There are moments in life that don’t announce themselves. They don’t come with fireworks or loud revelations. They come quietly — and yet they shift something so deeply inside you that you can’t unfeel it.
This was one of those moments.
Let me explain…
For many years, when it came to dating, I settled.
I did things just to do them.
Just to have someone.
Just to feel seen.
I accepted connections just to avoid emptiness. I told myself that feeling something was better than feeling alone. I confused attention with intention and proximity with love.
And in doing that, I bypassed myself.
I wasn’t truly taking the time to get to know people. I wasn’t vetting them. I wasn’t asking myself if the people I was giving access to — giving myself to — were actually worthy of who I am.
That way of living left me exhausted. Lonely in rooms I wasn’t supposed to feel lonely in. And beyond loneliness, it filled me with hurt, brokenness, frustration, and fear.
In January of 2025, coming out of yet another painful relationship, I reached a point where I had nothing left to do but become intentional with my next move. That meant holding myself accountable for where I was — not in shame, but in honesty — and making the conscious decision to grow from the experience.
In February of 2025, I began therapy.
I had done therapy before, but this time was different. This time, I went in with intention. I wanted to understand myself more deeply because when I looked at my history with men, I realized something important:
I was the common denominator.
Not because I was a bad person — but because when the people change and the story remains the same, self-reflection is required.
Through therapy, I learned more about me.
My decision-making.
My blueprint.
How my wiring influenced my choices.
I began to understand why I was always the one pouring everything I had into relationships — clinging to hope, even when things were unhealthy.
Hope that they would change.
Hope that the version I met in the beginning would return.
That space was draining. But until I understood why I was operating there, it had become my normal for years.
So over this past year, I refrained from dating. It was time to refocus, reset, and regain control of my life and what it looked like. After countless hours of therapy and deep self-accountability, I began to feel better.
I wasn’t dating — but I was learning.
I was understanding who I am, what I want, and more importantly, what I deserve.
And that’s what makes this lunch encounter so significant.
One morning, I was on the phone working and chatting with friends — like we do most mornings. The conversation was light, random, nothing particularly important. The ladies were talking about their relationships, the good and the bad. Since I wasn’t dating, I mostly listened.
As the call was ending, I jokingly said,
“I want a man.”
Immediately, I stopped myself.
“Hold on,” I said.
“Let me be clear — because God has a sense of humor, and I don’t want to end up with someone I don’t need.”
So I spoke it plainly.
I asked God to send me someone God-fearing.
Someone who keeps Him at the center.
Someone gentle.
Someone who would love me, pray for me, and pray with me.
Someone successful in their own right — someone to build with.
There were more details, but you get the idea.
Though it was said jokingly, I meant every word from my core. This type of relationship was something I had desired since childhood — something I knew existed, but never fully believed could be my reality.
These were the relationships I’d only seen in Hallmark movies or heard about secondhand.
Now back to lunch.
My friend and I talked about everything — life, purpose, faith — but the conversations had substance. They felt different. At one point, being the inquisitive person I am, I asked him,
“You’re still not dating?”
He said no.
Naturally, I asked why.
And his response stopped me in my tracks.
Listening to him speak about the kind of relationship he desires — and more importantly, the covenant under God he is committed to — left me in awe. Here was a man who was not only a man of God, but deeply intentional.
In that moment, something shifted in me.
These men exist.
This kind of love exists.
It isn’t a fairytale.
Now let me be clear — I am not saying this man is my person.
What I am saying is that I believe God used him to get my attention.
Sitting across from him at that lunch table, I saw love.
Purity.
Hope.
Gentleness.
Intentional movement.
And because I’ve now experienced the very type of human my soul craves in real life, I know I can never again settle.
If God created him, He created others.
And one day, my person will meet me where I am — and together, we will continue building a foundation with God at the center.
So when I hear the word settle, I ask…
Settle for what?
Why would I, when I now know there are God-fearing, intentional men in the world?
This doesn’t mean my next relationship will be perfect. But it will be intentional. It will be loving. And when problems arise — because we are human — we will seek God to get to the other side.
I trust God deeply. I believe that if I slow down, take my time, and wait for who He has hand-crafted for me, that will be my forever.
I don’t believe anything in this world happens by coincidence.
God is far too intentional for that.
Scripture
“In their hearts humans plan their course,
but the Lord establishes their steps.”
— Proverbs 16:9
Reflection Corner 🌿
Take a moment. Sit with these questions — no rushing, no fixing.
- Where in your life have you accepted attention when your heart was craving intention?
- Have you ever stayed connected to someone simply because it felt better than being alone?
- What moment, conversation, or person has God used to quietly raise your standard?
- What would it look like to trust that what you desire exists because God placed that desire within you?
Sometimes the moments that change us forever don’t come loudly.
They come gently — and they ask us to pay attention.