The blessing in my ordeal

The days before my summer holiday in Morocco are usually very happy days. But last summer I had a lot on my mind. On the night of July 23d 2015, the day before leaving (and I have to add: during the emotional days of my period), I felt very sad. I grabbed a notebook and started writing. Never did I expect my tears of sadness to become tears of happiness.

I usually cross out half the things I write, but on this page I didn’t cross anything out. That and my ‘messy’ handwriting show these were my exact thoughts. Pure, unedited, unpolished. So here they are; pure, unedited and unpolished.

Tomorrow in shaa Allah we will leave for Morocco. Although that’s always the one thing I look forward to all year, I can’t find any excitement in my soul this time. I want to go – I don’t want to stay here – but I’m scared and I don’t know why.

Or I do. I feel like I’m gonna die. But I don’t know where this feeling comes from. Part of me doesn’t mind dying. Away from college. Away from stress. Away from people. But I don’t want to be away from heaven. I’m terrified of dying and facing Allah – and my scale. I’m not good enough. I should be a better Muslim.

I still have a chance, but I feel like I don’t have long. I’m scared. I’m not good and I want light. The light of God. Not death, but guidance. I have to reach for it. But I can’t touch His guidance, nor can I bow down to Him in purity. So I pray with my own words.

Allah please help me get closer to you. Please help me become stronger, because I don’t want to be weak anymore. Please end this hardship. Forgive me and guide me. And thank you for answering before I finished my prayer, because you made me long for your guidance and brought me closer to you. Thank you for making me see the blessing in my ordeal. Thank you for giving me peace in return for my surrender. Alhamdullah I’m Muslim.

Alhamdullah indeed.

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