What I learned about hope from surfing

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.” — Proverbs 13:12 (NIV)

This morning I paddled out at Point — one of my favourite local surf spots in Jeffreys Bay, South Africa. We’d been gifted some crisp June sun, and I was buzzing. My friend, Zander was there with his signature Colgate smile, and Lana, always full of fight and flair. The kind of people who make you feel lighter, even in a wetsuit.

After what felt like an endless set of waves, we spotted a lull and went for it. The paddle started well — until a rogue breaker launched me straight onto the rocks. Classic. And there I was, praying with desperation: “Lord, please help me!”

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Eventually, I made it to the backline, breathless but grateful. I waited for a good wave, but they passed me by. One by one. Duck dive after duck dive, I was pushed further down the bay by a strong current. I did catch a short one, but honestly, it didn’t feel worth the energy it took to get there.

And that’s exactly how life feels sometimes.

I keep praying, especially for my future husband.

I keep praying, especially for my future husband. I bring it to God often, hoping, trusting, longing. But sometimes it feels like all duck dives and no breakthrough. Like I’m being swept sideways and everyone else is getting waves. I know I’m not alone in this. So many of us carry quiet disappointments, deferred dreams, prayers still unanswered. And honestly? It’s tiring.

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Proverbs says it plainly: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” Not weak. Not faithless. Just… sick. Heavy-hearted. That’s how I’ve felt at times. Not angry at God, but quietly aching. Wondering if he hears me. Wondering if I’m the exception to the “good plans” verse on the fridge magnet.

And yet, there’s something about the ocean that keeps teaching me.

And yet, there’s something about the ocean that keeps teaching me. I don’t control the waves. I can’t force the timing. All I can do is paddle out, show up, and wait. Some days I get the ride of my life. Other days I get rocks and saltwater up my nose. But always, always, I am strengthened.

I think God meets us most deeply not just in fulfilled dreams, but in the ache of unfulfilled ones. When we keep turning to him, even with bruised hope and tired arms, that’s faith. Not the shiny kind, but the sturdy, salty kind that clings to the truth even when feelings don’t match.

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The second half of that verse, “but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life” gives me hope. It reminds me that God is not done writing my story. That he knows my longings, and holds them with care. Fulfilment may come, and when it does, it will be rich with the weight of waiting. But even if it doesn’t come in the way I imagined, I know this: Jesus is with me in the shallows and in the swell. He’s not distant or disinterested. He’s the one who got me off the rocks this morning, and the one who keeps growing deep roots in me, even in disappointment.

So I’ll keep paddling. I’ll keep praying. And I’ll keep trusting that the One who made the ocean also holds my heart, waves, waiting, and all.