Dear Father, I said yes to You. With trembling hands, with aching faith, with a heart still full of memories—I said yes. But even after that yes, I went back. I opened the app. I typed the name. I checked the story. And when I didn’t find any sign of them, I felt like I had failed You. How could I say yes to God and still chase a page? How could I surrender and still wonder if they saw me? But You whispered: surrender doesn’t silence the soul overnight. It just gives the pain a new place to land. I wasn’t just stalking someone—I was searching for hope. For closure. For a sign that what I lost wasn’t for nothing. But the more I search for them, the more I feel lost in myself. God, I don’t want to keep reaching for what You’ve asked me to release. I don’t want to keep calling hope what is no longer holy. So here I am again. Weak, but willing. Wounded, but walking. Empty, but open. Saying yes—again. Even if I have to say it every hour until this ache becomes peace. Because the truth is: I don’t want to be filled by anything that isn’t from You. Amen.