This Ramadan..

 

Another Ramadan has passed, and it was a smooth one. Ramadan comes and goes each year budding so much anxiety, reminding me of the difficulties my home bears. Midst all the broken memories, this Ramadan proved the ultimate mercy of God and I am grateful that I had chosen to have faith in Him..

I want to reflect, maybe a little poignantly. I’d love to look back over the years and see that my life can change and that one day, all these communal, festive, spiritual days can be lived with grace and a heartfelt kind of gratitude and love. I’m here to acknowledge the pain so that when I return to this space in the future, I never have doubt in believing in God’s abundant gifts of faith.

Ramadan this year taught me the gift of acceptance. Before the month started, I revisited all my fears and let them out openly. I wrote them down, one by one, acknowledged them with fear and fearlessness alike. I also accepted the fact that Ramadan may be hard at home. I accepted the mishaps and tribulations.. I accepted that I might find less comfort and safety to return to each day except in the arms of prayer each night. That made it a little easier for when things got a little hard, it was not an emotional blow. I accepted that it might happen, making it easier to pass by fleetingly.

Ramadan showed me remnants of my unhealthy relationship with food. I found it extremely hard to sit down and eat a meal with my father each day, feeling the pain of indigestion and heaviness every single day. A little over a year now, I have given up on trying to heal my issues with food and just decided to do what makes me feel better, which is relying on light, raw options that don’t take a toll on my digestive system which cannot tolerate much anymore. I must say that my only struggle this Ramadan is dealing with that digestive pain which I know is not physical but emotional. It seems that my unhealthy emotions over the years have accumulated to cause me this condition and I too have come to accept it, for it gets exhausting to fight for it to be as it was. I feel guilty for being grateful that Ramadan has ended so that I can return to my ways that somehow manage my condition.

I also want to reflect on how lonely Eid feels. I’m used to it, but I still want to acknowledge how it feels. I want to acknowledge how difficult it is to see friends and families praying together whilst being the only one in the whole mosque going through this alone. I want to acknowledge how difficult it feels being the only one in the street going out for a run, while everyone else gathers in joy. 

I’m not saying I’m not grateful. I am grateful for what I have. I am grateful for my life, for it is the muddiness that makes the most beautiful flora bud into existence. I have neverending faith in that— but while the pain and muddiness exists, I choose to see it for what it is, instead of denying it in shame and secrecy.

But, I choose to believe that it can be different in the future. I choose to believe and dream that one day, Ramadan will be a comforting time to experience. I pray to feel safe in Ramadan one day, to feel enveloped by friends and family and taken in with softness and love. I pray that one day, I will witness Ramadan in kindness, sharing and warmth. I pray that one day, Eid comes and I find myself walking along people who mean a lot to me, and I find myself participating in a beautiful togetherness of souls, sharing laughter and gifts, sharing a heartfelt smile of gratitude in ease.

I dream of a time when I can surrender my pain and know that it allowed me to believe in Him. Like every other pain in my life, I acknowledge that God has replaced it with a river of light, and so I choose to do the same here. I choose to see it through His gifts and find myself in patience and faith, surrendering the timing.

The only thing which makes me grateful in these times is perhaps having the beautiful opportunity to see God differently. I can see Him with eyes of fervent need and undoubting prayers. I can see Him through my dreams and knowing that He floods the heart with a love so dear, in time.

I’m grateful, for that. It is this kind of need that has sprouted the miracle of daylight dreams.