Songs of Joy
“I have a husband, I have children, but Temi, sometimes I still feel missing.”
Dear lonely heart,
I wrote this letter after a conversation I had with a colleague this afternoon, the kind that lingers long after the words are spoken.
She said something that gripped my heart: “I have a husband, I have children, but Temi, sometimes I still feel missing.”
Her voice was quiet, as her body gave off an aura of I’m incomplete, and I could feel the emptiness & ache in it. And I knew exactly what she meant, that strange season where everything looks fine from the outside, but inside, you feel numb. Where you wake up and go through the motions, but it’s like your soul is on mute.
Maybe you know that feeling too.
Maybe you’ve been in a season where it feels like your song has been stolen. There’s no melody in your heart, no words of praise on your lips, no desire to dance or sing or celebrate. Life keeps going, but you feel like you’re standing still.
Friend, I want to say this gently: you are not alone. I know this is one of the loneliest experiences a person can have and one we rarely talk about. We talk about faith, hope, and breakthrough, but we don’t often talk about the middle, the part where you feel dry, distant, maybe even a little ashamed that you’re not “more joyful.”
But God does not shame us in our silence. He sits with us there.
Psalm 126:2 gives us hope:
“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.”
This is what happens when God brings us back from exile, when He breathes on us and joy begins to bubble up again. This verse doesn’t just describe an emotional high; it describes restoration. It describes the moment when what felt lost is suddenly found.
If your song has been missing, I want you to hold onto this promise: it will return.
Yes, your laughter will come back. Your joy will come back. Your ability to sing not just with your mouth but with your whole life will come back.
But here’s the gentle invitation: don’t pressure yourself to rush the song back. Don’t shame yourself for not feeling it yet. Just stay near the One who writes the melody. Sit with Him in the silence. Let Him hold the space with you until the first few notes start to rise again.
And when your song does return, it will not sound like it did before. It will be richer, deeper and more meaningful. Because it will have been forged in the silence, born out of longing, and filled with gratitude for the God who never left you in the quiet.
So if you’re waiting, wait with hope. One day, without even realising it, you will find yourself humming again. You’ll find yourself smiling, laughing, maybe even dancing. And you’ll know: the song is back.
Until then, I am waiting with you. And I cannot wait to hear what your song sounds like when it comes.
Softly rejoicing with you,
Your favourite online sis