Cobweb Dust?

If I waited to be fine, maybe I’d never write here again , because “fine” feels like something that may never fully arrive, and maybe it is fine to accept that as part of Grief?

Beloved Slaves of Ar-Rahman,

(I’ve missed typing that. How are you? Truly, how is your heart?)

Some of you reached out saying you missed these letters. To be honest, I rolled my eyes at first , because how does the letter-writer pour when she herself is in need of words?

But the truth is, I miss the me that writes. And part of what scares me most is the thought that I may never be able to put my words together again.

So here I am, rambling, dusting off the cobwebs, hoping the coast clears. And if it doesn’t, I remember what I wrote in the very first letter: never expect anything too serious here. Perhaps that still holds true.

Now back to you, how are you? I really want to know.

As for me? You can probably already tell from this letter: a little tender, a little tired and heavy but still beating with hope. Still choosing Allah, even when the days feel heavy.

And to hearts like mine, I ask the One who is Ar-Rahman carry our weary hearts with gentleness. May He grant us sabr that does not break, hope that does not fade, and light that guides us safely back to Him. May every heavy step be counted with Him, and every tear be gathered as a witness of our striving.

Sabr, a little more of it. This world is really not our home, so dear soul, sabr again.

I leave you in the care of Allah.

See you when I am able to see you.

Aayah