Unclenching My Fist

I have been struggling emotionally lately with someone. Not the kind of good feeling, but more of an abhorrence. Days turned into weeks, then months, until it became a year. Him being a bully and arrogant, I sometimes describe him as if he's possessed by some kind of an evil deity. It makes me feel like I always want to punch his face every time he does something so bad that it pulls my emotional strength down into the pit. 

And honestly, it is exhausting to keep carrying this kind of feeling for so long. Until the time came when silence was no longer peace, but rather a form of restraint.

I remember carrying words I never said, responses I rehearsed in my head, and pain I quietly nurtured like it was something I had to protect. I told myself I was just being strong, that walking away made me the bigger person. 

But deep inside, I was not at peace. I was just waiting for the right moment to feel justified.

Then just this night, while reading the Bible, I came across this verse:

"Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." Romans 12:19 (KJV)

At first, I did not like it.

Because If I am being honest, a part of me wanted justice on my terms. I wanted him to feel exactly what he made me feel. I wanted answers. I wanted balance. I wanted closure that looked like accountability. Immediate and visible.

But God's words didn't negotiate with my emotions. They gently, but firmly, redirected them.

"Give place unto wrath."

That line stayed with me.

It did not say deny the anger. It did not say pretend it doesn't hurt. It didn't say forget. It said make room, not for revenge, but for God to step in where I am tempted to take control.

And that is when I realized...holding onto anger was never giving me power. It was quietly consuming me.

Letting go of revenge did not mean what happened was okay. It didn't mean my pain was invalid. It meant I was choosing to trust that God sees everything I cannot explain, hears everything I never said, and understand every tear I tried to hide. 

There is something humbling about stepping back and saying, "Lord God, I won't fight this battle the way I want to. I will let You handle it."

Because truthfully, my version of justice is often fueled by emotion. But His? It is perfect, complete, and never ever late.

I am still learning this.

Sure, there will be days when these old feelings will resurface, or when memories knock like they still have access to my heart. But now, I think, instead of entertaining them, I surrender them.

Not because I am weak, but because I finally understand that I don't have to carry what God already claimed as His responsibility. 

"Vengeance is mine; I will repay."

That's not just a warning. It's a promise.

And for the first time, I feel free not needing to prove anything, not needing to get even, and not needing to win.

Just...trusting. 

And somehow, that feels like the greatest victory of all.

For Zenai, With Love

There are people you meet for the first time, yet somehow, it feels like your souls skipped the introduction and went straight to familiarity. Like you've known each other in another lifetime, or at least in a group chat you forgot about.

Once upon a time, I met a girl.

She's the kind of person you notice immediately because she's very noisy, bubbly, kind, effortlessly beautiful and overflowing with joy. The type who can walk into a room and without trying too hard, make it feel lighter. She laughs easily, talks warmly, and makes friendship look so natural, as if she's been practicing it her whole life.

But like most beautiful stories, hers has depth.

Behind that cheerful facade is a quiet battle she fought, darkness that once lingered, waiting for the right (or wrong) moment to surface. Yet somehow, she chose differently. She chose to fight. She chose to heal. And most importantly, she chose God and herself. Not perfectly, not all at once, but faithfully.

And maybe, that's why we connected.

Because in so many ways, she is like me. She loves God deeply, above all else. Her faith is unshaken. She's loyal, strong, and surprisingly...a cry-baby. Give her a slight sad ending, and booom! Tears. Honestly, I've never met someone who can cry that fast. It's almost a talent at this point.

Today, April 26, 2026, I celebrate her life.

Zen, 

I thank Jesus Christ for you. I thank God for bringing someone so genuine into my life. Someone beautiful not just in appearance, but in heart and spirit. They say it's hard to find true friends when you're far from home, living abroad, trying to build a life from scratch. But I've always held on to God and in His perfect timing, He brought you to me, because He knew I needed someone like you.

And I really did.

Thank you for being unapologetically you. Thank you for your kindness, your strength, your faith, even on days when it feels like you're still healing. Because yes, you may not be 100% there yet (who is, really?), but I believe with all my heart that God is preparing a kind of happiness for you that will make every past pain make sense.

A thousand folds, just like I always say..

And listen, our friendship? It's not the kind that fades with distance or time. Whether we see each other every day or not at all, that doesn't change a thing. Once you're my friend, you're my friend for life. No returns, no exchanges. So sorry, you're stuck with me.

And even if one day we're no longer physically in the same place, remember this: we are sisters at heart. And anyway, we have social media. You're not escaping me that easily.

So today, laugh a little louder, smile a little brighter, and maybe cry just a tiny bit less (no promises, I know).

Happy, happy birthday, Zen 💛

You are loved, you are seen, and you are deeply blessed.

A Kindness I Kept

I had just finished my 7-3 shift that day, the kind that leaves you kinda drained in some way. I remember checking my pocket and realizing I did not even have a single 20 peso bill left. Nothing. It was one of those brutally hot afternoons too! The kind where the air itself feels heavy. And having experienced heat stroke before, back when I was still working in Saudi Arabia, I knew better than to rush out into it. So I stayed for a while, waiting for the heat to ease, trying to steady myself.

While standing in front of the hospital's entrance, I saw one of my colleagues (we were still quite new to each other at the time). She had just arrived, driving her mum to the hospital's dialysis centre. Her mum had been a dialysis patient for quite a few years. I walked over, and that's when I had the chance to meet her, such a lovely, gentle woman. You could immediately see where my colleague got her beauty from.

We spoke for a bit, and i'll admit, I hesitated for a long time...but eventually, I gathered the courage to ask if I could borrow some money. I just wanted to get home. But she didn't have anything to spare that day either. So I nodded, smiled it off, and made my way to the hospital canteen instead, thinking I'd just sit there until the sun wasn't so unforgiving, and before deciding to walk home. 

I tried to distract myself, scrolling through my phone, pretending I wasn't worried about how I'd get home. Then suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned around and there she was.

She looked at me and said, "Ate, I found 50 pesos. You can use it to go home."

I don't think I'll ever forget that moment.

It wasn't the money that broke me. It was the thought behind it. The fact that she remembered. That she cared enough to come back for me. That somewhere in her mind, she was worried about me walking home alone in that heat.

Something in my heart just...stopped.

We weren't even close yet, but in that small, quiet act, she showed me a kindness that felt so rare, so genuine. The kind that doesn't ask for recognition. The kind that just is. 

When I finally got into the cab, I waved goodbye to her...and then I cried.

Not because she helped me financially, but because, in that moment, she touched my life in a way I knew I would never forget. I remember thinking to myself, this is someone I want to keep in my life forever.

And as time went on, I got to know her more. I learned about her strength, how her father had passed away from cardiac arrest, and how her mum continued to fight through kidney failure, going through dialysis week after week. And yet, despite everything she carried, she remained one of the kindest, most selfless people I had ever met. 

We grew close. Really close. Not just colleagues, but sisters at heart. And I was lucky enough to work alongside her for a while...until life took me abroad again.

Then one day, while I was away, I received the news. Her mum had suffered cardiac arrest and was admitted to the ICU. I prayed so hard for her, asking God to give her strength...to carry her through something so heavy.

But then...her mum passed away.

And I wasn't there.

That's something I still carry with me. That quiet regret. That wish that, somehow, I could have been by her side when she needed someone the most.

Even now, I include her in my prayers every single day. I pray for her full healing, for her peace. And I miss her.. more than words can ever fully explain.

And every time I think back to that hot afternoon, to that simple act of kindness...I can't help but feel everything all over again.

If you're reading this, you know who you are.

I just want you to know that I miss you. Deeply. And I hold onto the hope that we'll see each other again soon. 

I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me the most. Truly.

But please never forget this: God loves you. And you are, without a doubt, one of the strongest women I have ever known, not just in body, but in heart, in spirit, in everything that you are.

I cannot wait to see you again.

A Conclusion, Not a Debate

Luke 10:16 states;

"He that heareth you heareth Me; and he that despiseth you despiseth Me; and he that despiseth Me despiseth Him that sent Me."

This verse holds a very special place in my heart because it is not just merely a line of scripture to me. It marked a moment of interruption, a decisive point when I was close to giving up.

At that time, I was so overwhelmed with emotions I can no longer contain. Anger, resentment, and a profound sense of loneliness had accumulated to the point where everything felt final. I genuinely believed that time that I had reached the end of myself. 

I found myself weeping in a public place, surrounded by strangers, yet entirely alone in what I was carrying. 

But even if I was in that state, I opened my Bible app without expectation. And this verse appeared. There was no build-up, no searching. Just...this. And it was enough to stop me.

Luke 10:16 is often understood as Jesus speaking to His disciples, affirming that those who receive them receive Him, and in turn, receive the One who sent Him. But in that moment, it was not theology I encountered. It was His presence. 

I wept even more, but this time not out of despair. What become undeniable to me is this: Jesus is not distant. He speaks, and He is heard. He knows not in a general sense, but in precision. Every thought, or hidden weight, nor every unspoken struggle, nothing escapes Him.

And more than that, His authority is not independent. He made it clear Himself: He and the Father are one in purpose and will. To reject Him is to reject the One who sent Him.

This is where my position becomes firm.

I do not understand why, even now, there remains persistent insistence that Jesus Christ is merely an ordinary man. I am not concerned with the variety of sources or interpretations that lead to that conclusion. What I know is grounded not only in scripture, but in encounter.

I suddenly recall a conversation at Souq Waqif. A woman asked me directly about my faith specifically, who is Jesus to me. My answer was straightforward. He is the Son of God. She responded with a spit to my answer. She insisted that He was simply born as a human being, nothing more.

I was prepared to respond. However, language stood between us. The conversation ended there, not because there was nothing to say, but because there was no shared means to say it.

So, I WILL STATE IT HERE WITHOUT AMBIGUITY:

Jesus Christ is the Son of God. If you hold a different view, you are entitled to it. But understand this. My conviction is not casual, nor borrowed. It is formed through experience, through scripture, and through moments like the one I have described. 

If you intend to challenging that, then do so with clarity, substance, and understanding. NOT ASSUMPTION. 

Because this is NOT A DEBATE. It is A CONCLUSION.