One day,
I’ll stumble into the very thing
I’ve been chasing in silence,
not when I’m searching,
but when my heart has almost given up.
One day,
I’ll look back and smile,
seeing how far I’ve walked,
how many nights I prayed,
how many times I carried hope
as the only thing in my pocket.
One day,
my stories of hunger and waiting
will turn into laughter,
because pain will no longer sting,
it will only remind me
that joy was worth the fight.
One day,
my song won’t be about survival.
It will be about victory,
about how broken roads led me
to doors I never imagined.
The tears I shed then
will be nothing compared to the tears of joy I’ll shed now.
God is writing my story,
from nothing, He is making something.
From ashes, He is building beauty.
From my scars,
He is shaping strength.
And when it all falls into place,
my life will no longer just be mine.
It will be a lamp of hope,
a melody of joy,
a living testimony
that God makes the impossible real.
One day,
I’ll sit with others who are still walking,
still searching, still holding on by a thread,
and I’ll remind them that waiting is never wasted,
that God’s timing is never late,
and their story too will turn into light.
One day,
I’ll realize the wilderness was a training ground,
that every setback was a step forward,
that every unanswered prayer was a redirection,
And I’ll thank God
for every “not yet”
that led me to the perfect “now.”
One day,
I will not just tell my story,
I will live it out loud,
as proof that faith carries,
that hope heals,
and that God always finishes
what He has started in me.
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