When Longing Hits Deep, Surrender It to I AM WHO I AM

There’s something about Friday and Saturday nights.
The world slows down. My shoulders drop.
And suddenly, I’m bold. I’m full of ideas. I imagine freely.
No pressure. No deadline. No one watching.
Just me, the dark, and the version of myself that dares to dream.

But then comes morning.
And worse the Sunday night.
Everything feels smaller, heavier, more “real.”
Not in the good way. In the doubt yourself again kind of way.

At night, I’m booking flights in my head.
I’m already packing, imagining the airport, replaying my cousin’s words about visiting London.
Everything feels possible. Like life is wide open again.
And for a while, that feeling is enough.

But then morning comes, and with it, questions I didn’t ask at night.
What if I don’t get the visa?
What if I freeze at immigration again, like I did in 2017?
Suddenly, I’m not imagining freedom anymore , I’m rehearsing how to explain myself.

It’s strange, isn’t it?
How between midnight and morning, the same dream can shift from flight to fear?

Dubai always shows up in these midnight thoughts.
Maybe because it was the last place I truly felt alive.
There’s something about it I can’t shake
like every time I remember it, a part of me switches back on.
Not nostalgia. More like… recognition.
Like, “That’s the version of me I’m trying to get back to.”

There were mornings I’d wake up thinking, “Here we go again.”
Same desk. Same screen. Same routine.
That tiny grocery store a few blocks away somehow became the highlight of my week.
And honestly, that scared me.

I’d look around and wonder Is this it? I know there is more to life
I’m older now.
Will I ever get married? Will I ever have children?
Will I ever live abroad again? Travel the way I used to?

And worse…
There were days the bitterness lingered.
Not loud, just quiet.

But recently, that’s changed.
I’ve felt lighter. Maybe because I finally surrendered the questions to God.
And when you surrender, it doesn’t mean the questions disappear
it just means they stop owning you.

After I surrendered to God, something lifted.
I remember thinking, “If only I had done this sooner.”

But of course, that’s when the doubt showed up
the voice that asks, “What if your deepest longings never come true?”

And yet, in the quiet of night, another voice speaks softer, but stronger:
Keep surrendering your desires. God is in control.
The One who created the universe, who hung the stars in place,
who catches your tears in a bottle , He will not forget you.

He is the same God who leaves the ninety-nine to look for the one.

And when I look at the sea, the mountains, the trees that start as seeds and grow into something so abundant, giving fruit, shade, and even the wood we build with
I remember: there is purpose in the waiting.
There is timing in the growth.
There is a plan, even when I can’t see it.

So I rest.
Because the voice in the night says,
“Take rest, My child. I’ve got you.”