A reflection on finding purpose in being alone
There’s a scene I once watched in a film where a woman hikes out alone just to see a sunrise she had always dreamed of. No partner beside her. No one to impress. Just her, the open trail, and the rising light. That moment stayed with me—not because it was lonely, but because it was holy.
She had spent so much of her life trying to find herself in relationships. But in that final scene, she found something far more meaningful—peace in her own presence.
👉 We don’t need another person to complete us. We need space to remember that we were never incomplete to begin with.
Sometimes, solitude feels like a gap or a delay in life. But what if it’s actually an invitation?
Jesus often withdrew to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16). He chose solitude—not because He was empty, but because He was full. And solitude became the space where strength, clarity, and intimacy with God deepened.
💬 What if our alone time is where God reshapes our identity?
💬 What if being single isn’t a waiting room—but a sacred season of becoming?
You are not waiting for your life to start. You are in it. Right here, right now.
But this isn’t just something I saw on a screen—it’s something I’ve lived.
After my husband left me and our son, I spent nearly five years trying to find myself again through relationships. I was searching for love, for validation, for something—or someone—to fill the ache. But all it did was leave me emptier.
And yet… in the quiet, something sacred began to take root.
Raising my son alone became my mission. He wasn’t just my responsibility—he became my anchor, my strength, and ultimately, my reason. I poured every ounce of love I had into him, and somewhere along that journey, I discovered something far more meaningful than romantic love: purpose.
And in the moments when the world grew silent, and it was just me and God—I found what I had been missing all along: myself.
🌿 Solitude became my sanctuary.
🌿 Silence became my teacher.
🌿 Singleness became my freedom.
Not everyone discovers the treasure that solitude holds. But I did. And it changed me.
Now that my son has left for the U.S. to pursue his studies, I am alone in the truest sense. And yet, I’ve never felt more whole. I’m not chasing anything anymore—not love, not people, not approval. Because what I’ve gained in being alone is priceless.
Every minute by myself became a conversation with my soul.
Every quiet night turned into a sacred retreat.
And the peace I’ve found?
It’s the kind of peace you’ll never find in someone else’s arms.
It’s the kind that only comes when you embrace yourself fully.
My story isn’t fully told yet—but it’s coming.
And I hope when you hear it, it reminds you that your solitude isn’t a punishment.
It might just be your awakening.