Disappointment. I know it all too well. A friend and a foe — a shadow in every season, a spirit haunting my youth and my womanhood. It waits at every turn, hides behind every face, lingers in every hope. Just when I think I've escaped its reach — it unveils again. But now I see it clearly: disappointment is the fruit of misplaced devotion. Every time I put my hope in man instead of God, my heart bore the cost. No more idols. No more illusions. My expectation belongs to Heaven alone. "The Lord is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in Him." — Lamentations 3:24