Hey friend.

Recently I did a social media detox. I honestly thought I would be fine — it was just social media after all. I thought I’d finally have time to read all the books that were slowly collecting dust in my bookshelf.

I had the time, but I was not fine. Especially the first week. I kept reaching for my phone every few minutes only to put it down the next second.
I tried to read the book, but it wasn’t scratching the itch.

Some days I sat on my bed and blankly stared into nothing. Other days, the silence was so loud, you would’ve heard a pin drop.

My tiny room looked bigger than before. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Pacing up and down, I spoke to myself, imagining another person was in the room with me. I did just about anything to escape the dull ache in my chest.
The ache grew louder with each passing day, demanding my attention.

This one evening, I felt backed into a corner with nowhere to hide. I had no choice but to confront the elephant in the room. “Lord, I’m lonely,” I admitted, tears threatening to choke my words. The tight knot on my chest finally untwisted, and I wept.

I wish I could say that after my crying session with the Lord, I stopped feeling lonely. But that wasn’t the case. I still felt lonely, but how I dealt with it changed. I had to learn to be quiet, which is hard for me. I am still learning. I would say this small prayer:

Holy Spirit, silence the voices in my head so I can hear you. 

And I would set a 10-minute timer and wait.

Because in the quiet, I began to hear His still small voice.

And then one night, while I was practicing being quiet, I felt the Holy Spirit leading me to Psalm 34:18:

“The Lord is closer to the brokenhearted.”

Even though how I felt didn’t change, I kept telling my heart what my head knew… He is close, I am not alone.

About a month later, my sister came to visit me. I was over the moon; I had missed her.

The first day she was here, I came back from work looking forward to coming home for the first time in weeks.

As I walked in, the room was clean (she’s a neat freak), lights on, and she said “Welcome home” in a cheerful voice.

My eyes watered with joy upon hearing those simple words.

I was not alone.

Days later I was lying in bed, and my sister was napping next to me. Somehow that was enough to bring comfort to my weary soul.

Psalm 34:18 began to make sense. My sister didn’t need to say anything. Her presence was enough.

What a gift that was.