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Tag: god

  • Susan & Oishi: Ep.9 “Siopao, Sweat & the Goddess Delusion”

    On a peaceful Saturday night, Sus had the day off, and I heard humming from her room. Naturally, I sprinted over thinking she was in distress — but no, she was just dreaming.

    She scooped me up like a plush toy and whispered, “You know what, Badoodle, I had the most beautiful dream.” Her eyes glazed over like cartoon hearts as she continued: “In my dream I was a sexy goddess — red lipstick, long black hair, sleeveless top, no flabby arm flaps in sight. And Macchismo was looking at me like I was one hot mama.” She sipped her coffee and dramatically flipped her hair.

    Fast forward to that same afternoon — we went to the mall to buy gym clothes. And then, right there and then, she enrolled herself at the gym like she was joining a beauty pageant in 7 days.

    The gym instructor was visibly distressed. Susan wanted to lose 50 kilos in one week. The manager even offered her a refund if she promised never to return. But no, Susan was fired up — after all, this was about Macchismo.

    She hit the treadmill like a woman possessed. Then tried yoga. Then karate. All in one go. Imagine a curvy woman doing downward dog while simultaneously throwing karate chops. I, too, was spiritually injured just watching.

    After five hours of pure chaos (and me being starved to the brink of extinction), I tried to motivate her the only way she understands. I said, “Go Sus! Think of the siopao!”

    Saturday night rolled in. We ended up ordering siopao and halo-halo. She couldn’t cook — her muscles were screaming for justice. She looked at me and groaned, “Oishy, my Badoodle… why are some women blessed with pretty faces and perfect curves?”

    If I could talk like humans, I’d have told her: God made us unique. And yes, we should take care of our bodies — but expecting to look like a Victoria’s Secret model after one gym session is more comedy than goal.

    Anyway. We were tired. We slept. Cue Monday.

    Monday morning, she was still sore and waddling like a penguin to the pantry. And there he was: Macchismo D.,Hawaiian shirt. Blazer. Jawline, struggling with the coffee machine.

    Susan seized the moment. “What’s your perception of women?” she asked, expecting fireworks.

    Macchismo, without missing a beat, replied, “Strong-willed. Brave. Stubborn. Loving.”

    Susan blinked. “Nooo, that can’t be right.”

    “Sure it is,” he said. “My mom is all that.”

    And just like that, he left her standing there. Speechless. Holding her coffee. Mouth open.

    So how do I know all this?
    Because she dumps all her emotional crises on me.
    I’m Oishi. This is my burden. And my blessing.

    The End. 🐶📚💅
    See you on the next story. Bring snacks. I’m starving. 🐾

    Psalm 139:13-14

    For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
    I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

  • 🏖️ Susan & Oishi: Episode 8 – Praise, Petty Thoughts, and Pina Coladas

    Narrator: Oishi (as if it would be anyone else)

    It was a Sunday morning — but not just any Sunday.
    Susan and I woke up unusually early and started bouncing on the bed. She was already in her green bathing suit.
    (My eye twitched. I considered pretending to be blind. But I let it slide. I was excited too.)

    For weeks now, our neighbors had been planning a neighborhood outing. Post-dinner meetings, heated debates about who brings the rice cooker, and of course, the classic standoff over who would drive. Everyone wanted to be on the trip, not responsible for it.

    So they voted.
    And the unlucky winner?
    Boyo. Yes — that Boyo. The guy who once blasted “Bed of Roses” on repeat until even the cats started howling.

    Susan and I were packing. She handed me my goggles, and for a moment — I felt something.
    (Not quite a heart flutter. Let’s call it… elevated awareness.)

    The thought of the beach — the breeze, the barbecue, the possibility of new hoomans who weren’t from The Signal Co. — it thrilled me. I even wagged.

    The van ride was chaos and joy. Singing, laughing, someone choking on chips. Susan was screeching “Apt! Apt! Apt!” from that Bruno Mars/Rose collab like she was auditioning for the role of “Off-Key Hype Woman.” No one minded. We were all just… in it. Present.

    When we arrived, we stepped out and took it all in. The salty air. The breeze. The mountains folding into the sea.
    It was perfect.

    Neighbors got to work — grill stations, beach mats, someone trying to build a tent they clearly never read the manual for.
    Susan peeled off her cover-up, scooped me up like the emotional support king I am, and together we sat by the waves.

    We played fetch. We ate like we hadn’t seen food in years.
    We talked. We laughed.
    And for once, she didn’t complain about work, or traffic, or slow Wi-Fi. She just smiled.

    As the sun dipped low, we sat quietly on the sand, wrapped in the afterglow of joy and grilled meat.

    And then — she said it.

    “God must have a beautiful imagination. Look at this view. It’s perfect. What a Creator.”

    I was stunned.
    Usually, she reserves her poetic moments for when she’s holding a donut in one hand and ranting in the other.

    But this?
    This was awe.

    ✍️ Writer’s Note:

    I stumbled upon this line today:
    “Worshipping God means acknowledging and celebrating His power and perfection in gratitude.”

    And maybe… that’s exactly what this moment was.

    No music. No altar.
    Just Susan and Oishi, sitting by the sea —
    surrounded by mountains, waves, and the quiet company of God’s imagination.

    “What a Creator.”
    “Look at all this.”

    Sometimes worship is loud.
    Sometimes it’s a soft whisper wrapped in awe.

    This is worship, too.

    —From the heart of Susan & Oishi 🐾

  • Susan & Oishi: The Signal Co. – Episode 3 – One Donut, One Memo, One Very Nervous Intern

    Narrator:
    Oishi (as if there’s anyone else classy enough for this role)

    As usual, Susan was at work — emotionally caffeinated, philosophically unprepared — and last night she dumped an entire story on me. I must now share it with you, dear reader, so I don’t suffer alone in silence.

    It was Friday — the world’s emotional support day. Busy, but chill.
    The boss lady, Cassandra, had just called in a food order for the staff. She’s not always in the office, but she shows love the best way she knows how: carbs.

    Now Cassandra is so poised, even Jezzie Bell and Dinah get insecure just by breathing in her cologne mist. She walks by, and suddenly everyone’s fixing their posture and pretending their spreadsheets aren’t fanfiction.

    At The SIGNAL Co., gossip is a language. A lifestyle. Possibly an inherited condition.
    It was barely 8:00 AM when Yohanes crashed into the department like a news anchor possessed, shouting,

    “MAKE WAY! I am reporting live from Rome — I have pope-level information.”

    Susan, mid-donut.
    Brenda, the only one actually working, half-listening.
    Yohanes?
    Fully seated on Susan’s desk, wearing the energy of a caffeinated pigeon.

    “There’s a reshuffle coming! Someone’s getting transferred!”
    Gasp — Susan almost drops her donut.
    Gasp — Yohanes inhales like he saw his own funeral.
    Gasp — Brenda doesn’t gasp. She fact-checks.

    And then… Dinah.

    Lurking. Listening. Lurking again.

    She swoops in with that “just sharing, not saying” energy and drops this:

    “I heard it’s Pete from Accounting. Apparently he messed up the company taxes.”

    (No source. No logic. Just Dinah.)

    Let the record show: Pete didn’t mess anything up. He asked Dinah for her tax computations, and she didn’t submit them. So now she’s blaming him for the delay. Classic.

    Susan nearly faints. Yohanes looks ready to call CNN.
    Brenda, still grounded, says:

    “Pete is the spreadsheet. He once calculated his way out of a traffic ticket.”

    Dinah shrugs, throws her hands in the air and goes,

    “Well… maybe he’s getting old. Just saying.”

    Meanwhile, Jasper the intern approaches to give Susan her coffee.
    Unfortunately, Dinah’s hand is involved. A dramatic wrist flourish sends the coffee flying — all over Susan.

    And Dinah?

    “Ugh. Stupid intern. Why didn’t you walk around me?”

    Jasper is mortified. Susan is sticky.
    And Ishmael, the janitor, glides in like a mop-wielding monk.

    “Ma’am,” he says gently to Dinah, “he couldn’t have predicted your… hand choreography.”

    Enter Horatio T.
    HR rep. Memo collector. Passive-aggressive with a soul.

    He bursts from his office and booms:

    “WHAT IN THE NAME OF DATA PRIVACY AND EMOTIONAL DAMAGE IS GOING ON HERE?!”

    Dinah (of course) points at Yohanes:

    “He started spreading gossip about Pete!”

    Yohanes panics. Apologizes. Dinah smiles like a cat that deleted your files.

    But even Horatio — who writes memos for therapy — can see the truth.

    “ENOUGH. If there’s any transfer happening, I’ll be the one to announce it. I am HR. And FYI… no one’s being transferred.”

    Yep. It was Dinah. Making things up. Again.

    Later that day, Susan, Yohanes, and Brenda are whispering at the fire exit, still doing a full debrief. Then they hear two male voices from below.

    One says:

    “‘Do not go about spreading slander among your people. Do not do anything that endangers your neighbor’s life. I am the LORD.’ – Leviticus.”

    Susan gasps:

    “Wait — who’s Leviticus?! Is that Pete’s replacement?”

    Yohanes:

    “Or the new Data Analyst?”

    Brenda rolls her eyes so hard the floor shakes:

    “It’s a book in the Bible. That’s a verse. From the actual Bible Leviticus 19:16 !

    They peek down and see… Ishmael.
    Quietly chatting with Horatio, who — surprisingly — sometimes seeks Ishmael’s advice.

    Turns out, the janitor isn’t just wise. He’s scripturally sharp.
    Horatio had asked how to handle gossip. And Ishmael simply quoted the truth.

     

    📄 MEMO from Horatio T. – Subject: Defamation of Character (aka Gossip Ends Here)

    To all employees (even if you’re morally bankrupt):

    Gossip is part of our survival strategy in the office. Without it, how else would we bond over microwaved spaghetti?
    But let me make this clear—if your gossip causes harm, it will be your employment status that gets reshuffled.

    Let’s build each other up, not burn each other down.
    In accordance with company policy…
    And the Book of Leviticus.

    Or pack up your decorative mugs and leave.

    Later that day, Susan and Yohanes didn’t gossip.
    They talked about the weather in Spain.

    And Dinah?
    Well… she was unusually quiet.
    Either she’s reflecting, plotting, or Googling “Leviticus.”
    Who knows?

    ✍️ Writer’s Note

    Hey, it’s me — Ember.

    Just a little disclaimer:

    The people in this story? Fictional.
    The chaos? Slightly exaggerated.
    But the message? Very real.

    After nearly 20 years in different workplaces, I’ve seen how gossip — even the “light” kind — can spread fast and hit deep.
    I’ve been a Susan and a Yohanes.
    This episode isn’t just for laughs… it’s a gentle reminder:
    Let’s build each other up, not tear each other down.

    Thanks for reading.
    Thanks for growing with me.

    —Ember 🐾

    Still learning. Still rising. Still talking to Oishi.

  • Susan & Oishi: Ep. 5 We Are Not Ready: A Paranormal Sitcom

    Narrator: Susan, Frightened to the Max

    It was just an ordinary day — raining outside, chips in hand, cuddling on the couch with Oishi.
    We were watching our favorite show: The Detective Agency, starring Sera, Rhys, and Nova (you remember them from Episode 4: Oishi’s Nightmare).

    It was all fun and fiction until —
    BOOM.
    A car exploded on screen right as thunder cracked outside.

    Then came another boom — lightning struck the electric post.
    And just like that, the power went out.
    The house went dark.
    The neighborhood? A blackout.

    Narrator: Oishi, Scared to Death

    I was about to suggest we get the flashlight when we heard it —
    Footsteps. Wind howling. A loud “awooooooo.”
    Like a ghost-wolf who forgot to mind his volume.

    Susan clutched me like a stuffed toy, and I — a brave, diaper-wearing Shi Tzu — called upon the Mighty Paw.
    Susan, on the other hand, went full Pentecostal.
    “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I rebuke you!”

    Whoa.
    Sus? You believe in the Big Guy?
    You don’t even read the Bible. You read “How to Get Slim Without Exercising” and air fryer recipes.

    And… “Listen, I was so scared I didn’t even notice Susan changed outfits. One minute she’s in orange, next she’s in green — either we’re haunted or she packed for the apocalypse.”

    Suddenly, the Mighty Paw appeared — calm, glowing, mildly judgmental.
    Tears welled up in my eyes.
    “Mighty Paw! Use your powers! Make the ghosties disappear!”

    He shook his noble head.
    “Oh, you silly Little PhilosoFurr. I don’t have that kind of power. But I know someone who does.
    He’s the One who can calm bad spirits — and even Susan’s tantrums.
    You can tell Him anything — even how much you love chimken.”

    My tail twitched.
    “Please just tell me who! I’m scared! My soul is shaking and my diaper is full!”

    Before he answered, a bright light filled the room.

    Narrator: Oishi, Humbled & Slightly Wet

    He wore white.
    He raised His hand.
    He smiled at me — gently, warmly — and said:

    “Hi Oishi.
    I’m Jesus.”

    I was in awe.
    He looked so peaceful… unlike me and Susan, who were still running around like squirrels on espresso.
    But I noticed something:
    He had a hole in His hand.
    And yet — He smiled.

    Then, without a single word, the ghosts — human and paw — saw Him and immediately vanished.

    Susan fell to her knees, sobbing.
    I think she howled. Like… elephant-style.
    “THANK YOU, JESUS!!”

    And me?
    No, I didn’t hug Him right away.

    I peed first.
    Then I hugged Him.

    He whispered:

    “I love you, Oishi.
    I love Susan.
    And I will always protect you.”

    And I believed Him.
    Because no matter how brave I try to be —
    Susan’s kind of a lot.
    (And if you haven’t noticed, she’s… large.)

    PS. She really committed to that praise pose like she was trying to send a signal to heaven and win an Oscar. 🙄
    I didn’t say anything… but in my mind? “Not this again, Susan.”

  • Something Good Is About to Happen (And No, I’m Not Just Saying That)

    Have you ever felt like something good is about to happen?

    I did—in the shower. There must be something magical in tap water, or maybe it was just the conditioner finally reaching my brain. Whatever it was, I felt a shift.

    For the past few years, my heart has been heavy with sadness and discouragement. My mind? Full of anxious thoughts doing laps. I hit that weird emotional state where I wasn’t happy or sad—just okay. The “emotionally buffering” zone. I even lost count of how many times I Googled “drifting through life means.”

    (And yes, I might look ten years younger than my age, but I’ve lived through enough plot twists to earn those Googles.)

    I used to cling to a quote I found online—“live life moment to moment.”
    It helped, kind of. For a while.
    But eventually, I realized: I need more than a Pinterest mantra.

    What I thought I needed was a man. A strong, strategic, steady man.
    Translation: a husband.
    A handsome one who would sweep me off my feet, take me on wild adventures, and look good in travel selfies.

    Look, don’t judge me. I’ve been single for a long time. Let a girl dream.

    But here’s the plot twist:
    I didn’t need a man. I needed healing.

    I kept looking outward—promotion, success, plane tickets—chasing things I thought would make me feel whole. But the advice always circled back to the same things:

    “Find happiness within.”
    “Help someone in need.”
    “Be grateful.”

    And I was like:
    I am someone in need.
    What do you mean “be grateful”? I’m barely hanging on!

    But then… I came across this verse again. And something in me softened:

    Philippians 4:6-7
    “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
    And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

    So I tried. I prayed. I thanked Him—even when I didn’t feel like it at first.
    And something shifted.

    No, I’m not suddenly problem-free or perfectly happy. But I feel different. I feel a quiet strength, a steadiness. A sense that even if I don’t get what I’m asking for, He hears me. And that’s enough.

    To my fellow citizens of the Republic of Anxiety:
    Try gratitude. Not just the hashtag version. The raw, shaky kind.
    Memorize that verse. Whisper it when the spiral starts. Put it in your heart.

    Because something good is about to happen.
    Even if it’s just peace.
    And honestly? That’s more than enough.

  • Be Like Joy — Bright, Bold, and a Little Delusional

    (Hint: This is not an Inside Out review, okay? 😂)

    “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
    — Matthew 6:34

    We worry about everything.
    Money. Jobs. Bills.
    What people think. Where our lives are headed.
    Whether we’ll ever get the things we’re longing for.
    (Or in my case, whether I’ll ever get a husband. Yes, I’m single — waving at all the single guys out there. 👋)

    And for parents? Add a few more layers of worry — spouses, kids, school fees, and why the electricity bill suddenly looks like it was written in Greek.

    Let me tell you a story from my early days in the UAE.
    Spoiler: it includes heat, humility, near-starvation, and one small miracle with a side of dates.

    Welcome to RAK, the Budget Adventure Package

    I loved my life in the UAE. The desert safaris, the food, the stunning buildings, and friendships with people from all over the world — it felt like a movie.
    But here’s the truth: even the best movies have a few horror scenes.

    One day, my company decided to transfer me from Dubai to Ras Al Khaimah (RAK).
    I was nervous, sure — I didn’t know anyone there.
    But also excited… because I’m stubborn like that. ✨New experience! ✨No backup plan! ✨What could go wrong!

    Well. Let’s talk about the part where I only had 20 dirhams to my name.
    Not 200. Not 2,000.
    Twenty.

    And I had to:

    • Move to a new city
    • Pay rent in advance
    • Pay a carlift (no car!)
    • Exit the country soon (visa expiring, fun yaay!)
    • Eat food like a regular human

    Mood? Full-blown panic.
    Budget? Spiritual
    Options? Cry, pray, or cry-while-praying.

    Enter: The Unexpected Provision

    My manager told me to go visit Al Hamra Mall before the move.
    It was new, bright, and weirdly empty. Retailers were chilling outside their stores like it was their front porch.

    There, I met a woman — let’s call her M.
    We started chatting and I told her I’d be moving to RAK but didn’t have a place yet.

    And then… she offered me a place to stay.
    No advance rent.
    Just, “You can live with us.”

    She even let me crash that same day and cooked for me.
    Hot. Cooked. Food.
    Reader, I almost cried on her plate.

    Ramadan & the 20 Dirham Diet

    Then came the real test.
    Ramadan started. I had no money. The carlift driver kept asking for his fare and I kept pretending I didn’t hear him. (Sorry, Mohamed. God bless your patience.)

    But he kept picking me up anyway.
    Problem #2 solved.

    Food? I pretended I was fasting.
    I’m Catholic, but I used the season to embrace spiritual minimalism (aka, I was broke).

    Local people gave out dates and water at sunset — that became dinner.
    And then, M noticed… and started feeding me lunch and dinner.

    And then — family to the rescue.
    One of my cousins from Dubai showed up out of nowhere with bags of groceries.
    She said she had a gut feeling I was starving.

    “Turns out God has a way of whispering into your cousin’s heart mid-grocery run.”

    One by one, God crossed off every worry I had — housing, transport, food — with quiet, gentle kindness.

    And Then Joy Walked In

    That season taught me that Matthew 6:34 is real.
    Don’t worry about tomorrow.
    Not because tomorrow is magical —
    But because God already lives there.

    Anxiety makes you spiral.
    It clutters your mind like tangled wires.
    It keeps you up at night rehearsing disasters that never come.
    But joy?
    Joy shows up with 20 dirhams and no plan… and still believes something good will happen.

    I still feel anxious, of course. I’m human.
    But now, I don’t let anxiety drive the car.
    I acknowledge her, let her sit in the back… and let Joy take the wheel.

    Let Me Leave You With This

    We still need to plan — don’t get me wrong.
    You can’t say “I want to be a pilot” and then not learn how to fly a plane.
    But what I’ve learned is this:

    One by one, every need I was anxious about — housing, transport, food — was covered by kindness I didn’t see coming.

    When you don’t have anything, trust God’s provision through the unexpected people He sends your way. Sometimes it’s not a miracle falling from the sky… sometimes it’s a carlift driver who keeps showing up even when you pretend you didn’t hear him.

    Do not worry about tomorrow, He said and He meant it.

    See you in the next story.
    Where the budget was tight, the visa was tighter… and somehow, I ended up in Iran.
    Not by choice, but definitely with emotion.

    Coming soon: “The Reluctant Border Queen.”

  • 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.”

  • “It’s Just Work, Nothing Personal… Right?”

    Colossians 3:23–24:
    “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”

    Every Sunday night, I get this feeling I can’t quite explain—you know, the universal “ugh, work again tomorrow” vibe. Don’t get me wrong, I like my job. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t still be here six years later (and counting, by the way—loyalty badge unlocked).

    After some reflection, I realized it’s not the actual work that makes me want to dramatically throw my laptop out the window and board the next flight (Okay, slight exaggeration. I work from home, so maybe I’d just slam the fridge door dramatically instead.)

    The truth is, it’s the people—sometimes. You can be deep in your task, finally in the zone, and then boom—“Hi, can I just ask something really quick?” (Spoiler: it’s never quick.) And let’s not even talk about bosses. For the record, if any of my current teammates or manager stumble upon this post—hi! This is totally about my past jobs. Wink.

    I’ve worked most of my life, held different roles, and reported to various bosses. And one thing is universal: if you and your boss are out of sync, it feels like trying to do a trust fall with someone who’s scrolling TikTok. Work becomes survival.

    That’s when I found the verse above. But truthfully? At first, I resisted. “Work with all my heart? Girl, my heart is telling me to grab my slippers and scram.”

    But here’s where it gets real.
    When I feel drained or wronged, I go back to that verse. Because it’s hard to give your best when you feel unappreciated or mistreated. Honestly, sometimes it’s hard to even give the bare minimum. But then I remember: I’m not just doing this for my company or my boss—I’m working for the Lord.

    Let that sink in.
    “I am working for the Lord.”
    When I repeat that, something shifts. He is worthy of my time, my excellence—even when others aren’t. It doesn’t magically erase the stress, but it lightens the weight I carry.

    I’m not saying we shouldn’t aim to impress our managers or be team players. They have authority, and we honor that. But at the end of the day—as we say here in my country, quoting an action star—“It’s just work. Nothing personal.”

    Insert moment of truth here:

    And just to be clear—it’s not like I didn’t want anyone to ask questions. Actually, I feel honored when someone asks me how to do things because it means they trust my knowledge. But it’s the ones who ask without even trying to look for the answer first—or when the answer is literally staring at them from the screen—that can be a little frustrating. Like… open your eyes, dude! The answer is right there. Highlighted. In bold. With sparkles.

    Of course, not all bosses are villains. Maybe some just had a few rough chapters that turned them cold and guarded. You know, like Scar—Mufasa’s brother in The Lion King. Maybe he started out okay, but somewhere along the line, he let bitterness take over. And then you have bosses like Mufasa—wise, composed, and protective. Alright, let’s stop here before I break down the entire Lion King trilogy. Hakuna Matata, moving on!

    A Short Prayer

    Dear God,
    Thank You for the life You’ve given us. You know how many times I’ve cried because of mistreatment at work. You’ve seen my bitterness when words cut deep, and yet You’ve always carried me through.

    I pray not just for myself, but for everyone who feels unseen, hurt, or overwhelmed in their workplace. Help us to find comfort in Your Word, and to remember that we are ultimately working for You. Let that truth fuel us to keep showing up—with heart, with strength, and with grace.

    In Jesus’ name, Amen.

    ✨ “When work feels heavy, remember who you’re really working for.” 🙏

    Written by Ember

    Full-time dreamer, part-time overthinker