hi hi hi
I kept finding flowers in my hands this year. maybe a sign, maybe nothing, but I took pictures anyway :P
I haven’t written anything in a while. work has a way of expanding until it fills every corner, and I keep letting it, as though surrender were the same thing as purpose. It’s not bad work, only endless & by the time evening arrives, I’m still hunched over my laptop, trying to understand what I’ve made of the hours. mostly, they dissolve.
I am waiting, too. For what, I’m not certain. Something new, perhaps. A shift. A sign. Wisdom, if it’s still on its way. God said to be patient, so I am. I sit still and try to listen for the sound of understanding approaching, but mostly I just hear the sound of fluorescent lights and the low, constant pulse of my own tiredness.
I keep thinking about how the prophets waited. not with impatience or a demand for clarity, but with a firm obedience to whatever came next. their days must have felt long too. their nights quiet. maybe that’s the whole point of tawakul, trusting God even when nothing reveals itself yet. I think of them when I’m standing by the window at dawn, half hoping the light will touch my face differently this time. it never does, but I still stand there.
life is okay. not radiant or ruinous. just okay, which feels like mercy, really. I am not ascending anywhere, not yet. just sitting at the steps, palms open, waiting for whatever lesson God thinks I’m ready for next.
Alhamdulillah for the waiting, even when its purpose hasn’t revealed itself. I guess that’s why the flowers keep coming back to me, none of them were mine, funnily enough, and they only stayed long enough to be admired before moving on. I don’t think there’s a lesson in that lol, but it feels like one anyway. My baby brother got married so I’m feeling very sentimental.
