I have survived years of depression due to undiagnosed medical issue. From last year, I have been medicated and see the world so differently. I can smell, I feel love, there is an explosion of taste and color in everything I see, eat or touch. In short, I feel alive.
I know God's most precious gift to us is our life and our time here. I had often wondered why it was worth living if I couldn't enjoy my experiences. I am so grateful that He showed me both sides of the coin so that I could fully appreciate my life now as I have it. Simple things bring me joy - a beautiful sky, a moment captured with my daughter, my parents, my husband. To me, there is nothing more important. Professional achievements come and go -- I am comfortable in my knowledge about my capabilities -- but the ability to enjoy my time with my loved ones, that is priceless.
Today, I have plans to blow bubbles with my daughter. Great, big ones. And I want for us both to remember it. And for us to know that life is beautiful and it is worth living.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Souls & the afterlife
Today my 5 year old asked me, "Will we recognize our bodies once we die"? I told her that we will have no need to recognize our bodies as it is our soul that has passed into the afterlife. All we will carry with us are our feelings. We will remember how we felt when we were hugged or spent our time with our loved ones or how proud we felt after having accomplished a desired feat. She seemed to understand my reasoning.
When I relayed the story to my husband, his reaction was "you said this instead of, we won't know until we are there". I was speechless for a while. Then I realized, for someone who has never really been touched by unnatural death, this kind of a response is clever. But for someone like me who has been surrounded by little children whose lights went out prematurely, this kind of reasoning is unfathomable.
I realized that because I have had to force myself to understand death, my response had to be spiritual and not has logical. How else can I make sense of watching infants suffer and die of afflictions which knows no bounds? What about the little village boy who happens to step on a landmine he did not know existed? No, I have to believe that something good and beautiful exists on the other side. These children are in much better hands, embodying much better things.
Be joy, you little souls.
When I relayed the story to my husband, his reaction was "you said this instead of, we won't know until we are there". I was speechless for a while. Then I realized, for someone who has never really been touched by unnatural death, this kind of a response is clever. But for someone like me who has been surrounded by little children whose lights went out prematurely, this kind of reasoning is unfathomable.
I realized that because I have had to force myself to understand death, my response had to be spiritual and not has logical. How else can I make sense of watching infants suffer and die of afflictions which knows no bounds? What about the little village boy who happens to step on a landmine he did not know existed? No, I have to believe that something good and beautiful exists on the other side. These children are in much better hands, embodying much better things.
Be joy, you little souls.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Perspectives
The other day, I was waiting by the pool while S was in her swimming lesson. There was a little boy of Chinese heritage, who was probably about 2 years old. He was supposed to be in a swim lesson also but something held him back. Against his will, his mother forced him to join in the class. He clung to the instructor for dear life, bawling, with terror in his eyes. The instructor was gentle, holding him with care, slowly cajoling him to get in the water.
I could not help but think of another time, another place - a place a lot more sterile, filled with so much real pain and fear. In August 2008, my only nephew was diagnosed with a rare form of brain tumor (by the grace of Allah, he's still in remission). He was yanked from a home he knew and loved and thrust into an endless world of pricks, medicine and not knowing when the next lab coat will walk in with the next set of tests. He was only 21 months old at the time. He had the same shock of curly hair as the little Chinese boy, and the look of terror on his face each time was quite comparable to what I saw at the pool.
It made me wonder about our basest feelings such as fear. Does it really matter what situation you are in? In my mind, these two situations could not be farther apart, and yet the parallel was uncanny. It filled my heart with a despondence about all these little boys and girls, crying in fear of something that they are so terribly afraid of - either because of a real anticipation of pain or a perceived sense of danger. Whatever it may be, I felt sad that they could not express themselves better nor that those in a place to understand better could appreciate how lucky they were that their son was crying only because he did not want to get into the pool.
In a strange way, I also felt grateful that I have never seen that look of fear in my daughter's eyes in her 5 years with me. I hope and pray that someday she comes to understand the value of this blessing.
I could not help but think of another time, another place - a place a lot more sterile, filled with so much real pain and fear. In August 2008, my only nephew was diagnosed with a rare form of brain tumor (by the grace of Allah, he's still in remission). He was yanked from a home he knew and loved and thrust into an endless world of pricks, medicine and not knowing when the next lab coat will walk in with the next set of tests. He was only 21 months old at the time. He had the same shock of curly hair as the little Chinese boy, and the look of terror on his face each time was quite comparable to what I saw at the pool.
It made me wonder about our basest feelings such as fear. Does it really matter what situation you are in? In my mind, these two situations could not be farther apart, and yet the parallel was uncanny. It filled my heart with a despondence about all these little boys and girls, crying in fear of something that they are so terribly afraid of - either because of a real anticipation of pain or a perceived sense of danger. Whatever it may be, I felt sad that they could not express themselves better nor that those in a place to understand better could appreciate how lucky they were that their son was crying only because he did not want to get into the pool.
In a strange way, I also felt grateful that I have never seen that look of fear in my daughter's eyes in her 5 years with me. I hope and pray that someday she comes to understand the value of this blessing.
Onwards ho!
“I discovered I always have choices and sometimes it's only a choice of attitude".
It has been two years since I have found anything meaningful to put in this blog. The journey to get here was arduous. It meant a lot of introspection, making peace with what cannot be and understanding that my ultimate connection to Allah makes almost anything tolerable. I reiterate to myself everyday that I might be late, but at least I am here.
Along this journey of life, my conclusions thus far are:
- Life is a gift from Allah, meant to be lived in a meaningful way -- where you choose and define what 'meaning' is to you
- You hold the key to how people treat you -- they will do what you allow them to do
- Rise above the pettiness and focus on your chosen path -- the tough part is defining the path you wish to follow
- There is nothing more fulfilling that being able to smile about and enjoy the simpler things in life. For me, just being able to watch a gorgeous sunrise makes my day
- If there is one exercise worth mastering, that is -- define your value. Unless you know your value, it is impossible to stand up to others undermining it.
I cannot say that I have conquered all but I am certainly in a better position to do so. Whether it is something that will be worthy, time will tell. At least I know that I have been going to bed feeling more at peace with my choices and knowing that even if I don't get to wake up tomorrow, I have done the best I possibly could today.
It has been two years since I have found anything meaningful to put in this blog. The journey to get here was arduous. It meant a lot of introspection, making peace with what cannot be and understanding that my ultimate connection to Allah makes almost anything tolerable. I reiterate to myself everyday that I might be late, but at least I am here.
Along this journey of life, my conclusions thus far are:
- Life is a gift from Allah, meant to be lived in a meaningful way -- where you choose and define what 'meaning' is to you
- You hold the key to how people treat you -- they will do what you allow them to do
- Rise above the pettiness and focus on your chosen path -- the tough part is defining the path you wish to follow
- There is nothing more fulfilling that being able to smile about and enjoy the simpler things in life. For me, just being able to watch a gorgeous sunrise makes my day
- If there is one exercise worth mastering, that is -- define your value. Unless you know your value, it is impossible to stand up to others undermining it.
I cannot say that I have conquered all but I am certainly in a better position to do so. Whether it is something that will be worthy, time will tell. At least I know that I have been going to bed feeling more at peace with my choices and knowing that even if I don't get to wake up tomorrow, I have done the best I possibly could today.
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