Letters Between Sundays

It’s refreshing to learn something new about yourself, even when it stings a little. Today I realized that I always have a person. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Honestly, I thought it was cute and funny — like, “Awe, I always have somebody.” But my friend, who is wise and shockingly accurate about people, said something deeper: “You don’t know how to sit in your loneliness.” I didn’t know what she meant. I didn’t know if it was a bad thing, a good thing, or just a truth I hadn’t looked at yet. But as the day went on, it started weighing on my heart.

When I look back, it’s true — I’ve always had a person. Preschool? My childhood best friend. Middle school? My first little boyfriend. High school? My best friend for a while, then my senior-year boyfriend. Between all of that? My mom, my forever backup person. College? My roommate for a while, and now… still my mom. It’s not even that I need a person — it’s more like the people find me, or maybe I gravitate toward connection without realizing it.

Growing up, we lived in a house with no privacy. My family was always around, always together. Being alone wasn’t a thing, and being alone wasn’t normal. Maybe part of my “always having a person” comes from that — from childhood closeness, from the comfort of someone always being there. But I also think there’s a little insecurity and fear tucked inside it.

What surprised me is realizing I’m actually lonelier than I thought. Yes, I have a roommate. Yes, I have friends. Yes, I go home every week to see my mom. But when I strip all that away, the truth is: the only person who truly gets me is Jesus, and I sit with Him every day. Maybe I’ve always been a loner at heart — even while having “a person.” And here’s the twist: I do sit in my loneliness, a lot, and sometimes it feels peaceful, like I can finally breathe. I think the part of me that reaches for “a person” is really reaching for affection, attention, and love, which, honestly, is human.

I don’t think it’s wrong to have a person. People have best friends. People are close to their parents. People need connection — God created us that way. What matters is not using a person to fill the spaces only God is meant to fill or the spaces I need to learn to sit with on my own. I’m realizing loneliness isn’t the enemy. Sometimes it’s actually the place where God whispers the loudest.

Most people assume loneliness belongs to the ones who sit by themselves — the ones who eat alone, walk alone, study alone. But loneliness can happen even when you have a whole group, a roommate, a mom who answers every call, or even when you always have “a person.” We just have to remember to check in on the friends who seem fine — the ones who smile and laugh and appear surrounded. Because sometimes, they’re lonely too,