Dear God, Are You Listening? Faith Lessons from the Quiet Moments

It’s strange how silence can be so loud,

There was a season in my life when I felt surrounded by people—but completely unseen. Friends who once celebrated my successes grew quiet when my disability became part of the conversation. They didn’t know what to say. Some said the wrong things. Others disappeared altogether.

I called it The Silent Season.

Psalm 13 echoed in my spirit: “How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?” I didn’t just feel forgotten by friends. I felt forgotten by God, too. I was searching for belonging, and it seemed like the pause button had been hit on everything that used to make me feel connected.

But in that pause, God was doing something I couldn’t see.

The First Step: Looking Inward

Acceptance didn’t start with my friends. It started with me.

I had to stop running from my reflection, the one that included both my gifts and my challenges. I spent years trying to prove I could “keep up,” that I didn’t need accommodations, that I was just like everyone else. But the truth is, God didn’t make me to blend in. He made me to stand out in my own way.

I began journaling, praying, and sitting in silence—not the kind that hurts, but the kind that heals. Slowly, I realized that I didn’t need everyone to understand my disability. I needed to understand myself first.

That’s when the healing began.

Step Two: Honest Communication

When I finally gathered the courage to speak up, it was shaky at first. I started telling my friends how I really felt—how their silence made me question my worth, how I needed understanding more than advice. Some listened with open hearts. Others didn’t.

But communicating honestly gave me peace.

If you’re in that place, here’s what I learned: be truthful about your needs. Don’t sugarcoat your pain to protect other people’s comfort. You deserve to be surrounded by those who see your full humanity, not just the parts that are easy to accept.

Step Three: Setting Boundaries

Boundaries became my protection, not my punishment.

I stopped chasing people who wouldn’t meet me halfway. I stopped explaining my disability to those who refused to listen. I realized I couldn’t control how others reacted, but I could choose how much emotional energy I gave away.

And sometimes, that meant letting go.

Friendship shouldn’t drain you. If someone consistently makes you feel unseen or misunderstood, it might be time to move on. Letting go doesn’t mean you failed. It means you’re honoring your peace.

Step Four: Finding My People

In time, I found others who got it. People who shared similar struggles and celebrated small victories with genuine joy. Joining peer support groups, both local and online, reminded me that I wasn’t alone.

There’s something powerful about connecting with people who understand without explanation. We shared stories, strategies, and laughter. Most importantly, we shared a space where everyone’s truth was valid.

Step Five: Living Out Loud

I stopped hiding.

Pretending my disability didn’t exist just to make others comfortable was exhausting. So I started showing up fully. No apologies. No shrinking. I learned that authenticity attracts the right people.

When I stood confidently in who I was, new friendships began to form—ones built on mutual respect, not pity.

Step Six: Affirming My Experience

Not everyone will understand your journey. And that’s okay.

But you must understand it. You must affirm it. Every challenge, every pause, every unanswered prayer. It all has purpose. My disability doesn’t define my limitations; it defines my perseverance.

Psalm 13 ends with hope: “But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation.”

That’s what I hold on to. God’s pause wasn’t rejection. It was a redirection.

He slowed me down so I could see who truly belonged in my circle. He taught me that acceptance from others means little if I don’t first accept myself.

So if you’re in your own Silent Season—waiting for friends, for healing, for understanding—hold tight. Don’t rush the pause.

Communicate. Set boundaries. Seek community.
And above all, affirm that your story is worthy, just as it is.

Because you deserve to be loved and supported completely—disability and all.

🎵 Hip-Hop Reflection: Dax’s “Dear God” captures that raw dialogue between faith and frustration. It’s a song that mirrors my own prayers—full of questions, but anchored in hope.

Watch “Dear God” on YouTube →