You had a timeline.

Not in a rigid, or unmoving way, but in a way that nurtured a quiet hope, in a way that tucked a soft expectation into your heart. Maybe you didn’t always say it out loud, maybe you weren’t the friend who spoke about marriage like it was the ultimate goal or your most desired dream. But still, somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought that by now you’d be saying I do, you thought that by now you’d be sending out save-the-dates, picking out dresses and building a life with someone who chose you fully, and without hesitation.

Instead, you’re watching other people fall in love. You’re RSVPing to weddings from human beings who swore they’d never meet that milestone. You’re scrolling past baby announcements. You’re trying to smile through the pain when people say, “It’ll happen when you least expect it.” And within it all, you’re left wondering if it’s still okay to hope for something that seems so far away. 

And maybe, in the quiet, you’re asking God a question that feels heavy in your heart:

“Why hasn’t it happened for me?”

You’re not wondering this in bitterness, or comparison. Just in honesty. In the ache of knowing that you’d be a deeply beautiful partner — that you’re ready, that you’re open, that you’re prepared to honour what love stands for, while still feeling like love itself has passed you by. Like you’ve been skipped over, or forgotten by God along the way. 

If that’s where you are, this is your reminder:

You are not behind. You are not forgotten. And there is nothing wrong with you.

Marriage is a beautiful thing, but it is not the ultimate measure of your worth as a human being. Being chosen by someone doesn’t suddenly make your life more valid or more meaningful. You are not waiting to be completed. You are not “on hold” until someone loves you in the way you have always hoped to be loved. This chapter isn’t a placeholder, this season is not something to try to rush through. This is your life. This is your journey.

And it’s allowed to be full. It’s allowed to be joyful. It’s allowed to be holy and rich and deeply moving — even without a ring.

Still, it’s okay to grieve. You are allowed to grieve the timeline you thought you’d be on by now. You are allowed to grieve the relationships that didn’t last. You are allowed to grieve the future you planned in your head a little too soon. God is strong enough to hold that grief. God won’t rush you through it. He won’t shame you for it. He just wants to meet you in it. 

You don’t have to pretend this doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to swallow the ache. You can long for marriage and still live a beautiful life in the waiting. You can long for a partner and still honour who you are on your own, who you are becoming.

And maybe that’s the most sacred part —

That even in the unknown, even in the loneliness, even in the “not-yet’s” — you still get to choose trust. You still get to choose to believe that God hasn’t forgotten you. That he isn’t late. That your story isn’t over. That it’s just unfolding differently.

If you thought you’d be married by now, and you’re not — you are not broken. You are not behind. You are becoming.

And when love does come, when it’s true and safe and authored by God himself — you’ll meet it not from a place of loneliness, but from wholeness. From strength. From a life already full of meaning, and purpose, and grace.

Until then, may you fall in love with your own existence, with your own companionship. May you fall deeper in love with God. And may you walk forward, not just waiting for someone to choose you, but remembering that you are already so deeply chosen by someone who has always loved you, by someone who has always made you their priority.