Guided by light, driven by dreams, and ready to fly.

Tag: surrender

  • 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.”