Letter to Adoma: Letter to Frema
Dear Adoma,
You’ve wandered through the hearts of others, hoping to find the missing pieces of yourself—seeking answers in their smiles, in their warmth, in the quiet spaces they left behind. But, sweet soul, what you’ve been searching for, all along, is already resting quietly within you.
You’ve traced your identity in the laughter of friends, in the love that once embraced you, thinking that somehow, in their acceptance, you would find your reflection—whole and healed. Yet, no matter how far you search, or how deep you dive into their lives, the truth will always lead you back to yourself.
Adoma, you are not incomplete. You are not missing. There is no empty place inside you that another can fill. The spaces you feel, those hollow aches—they are meant to be cradled by your own tender hands. The love you’ve so generously given to others—offer that same love to yourself. The forgiveness, the understanding, the grace you’ve poured into those around you—let that flow back into you, too.
The truth, Adoma, is not in their eyes. It’s in the quiet of your soul, in the strength of your spirit, in the way you rise, time and time again, after every heartbreak, every fall. You’ve always been enough. Not because someone told you so, but because you’ve lived through the storms and still managed to bloom.
Do not twist yourself to fit the shapes of their expectations. Do not lose your way trying to belong in spaces where you already outgrow the walls. Your worth is not measured by their love, by how much room you take in their hearts. You are not defined by the roles you play in their lives. You are enough, just as you are—right here, right now.
You don’t need to search anymore, dear heart. The light you’ve been seeking—the love, the peace, the answers—they’ve always been inside of you, waiting for you to notice. You are the love you’ve been searching for. You are the truth you’ve been longing to find.
So trust in this journey. Trust in yourself. And when the world feels heavy, when your soul feels tired, know that you are whole. You are enough. You’ve always been enough.
With love,
Frema.
Dear Frema,
Your words are kind, and your certainty is comforting, but life is not as clear as you make it seem. You see, I’ve wandered through this world, seeking not only in the hearts of others but within myself, and what I’ve found is not so simple. Life moves in shades of gray, not in the sharp edges of black and white.
The truth you speak of, the one resting inside, is not always so easy to reach. Like Ecclesiastes, I have learned that with wisdom comes sorrow, and the more I seek, the more I find not answers, but questions. “Meaningless! Meaningless!” the Teacher says, and I feel it—the weight of searching in a world where both the righteous and the wicked meet the same end.
You ask me to look within, but what if all I find are fragments? Life, as I know it, is a labyrinth, full of contradictions. Even Job, who cried out for understanding, found none. His suffering, like mine, was met with silence—only more questions. So how can I trust in the simplicity of inner discovery when the world around me is so vast and uncertain?
There is a season for everything, yes—but also a time to be lost, to wander without clear direction. Maybe the answers are not the destination. Maybe, like the Teacher, I must learn to live in the mystery, to embrace the ambiguity, to accept that the search for meaning may never end.
I do not deny that I am whole, but I am also unfinished, both complete and incomplete, enough and yet searching. This is the tension I live in, and I must walk my path in its winding, unpredictable way.
Thank you for your love. I carry it with me, even as I carry these questions.
With love,
Adoma
