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An Asian female radiation therapist places markers on a short face mask fitted to a patient model to ensure the correct position within a computed tomography (CT) scanner and later in the radiation treatment room. 2010

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There is always a paradox in following Allah’s path. It’s not something you find out at the first step. Allah makes it known in His own timing, in His own way, to keep your heart instilled. His concept of peace isn’t something that happens overnight or at the snap of a finger. It’s a nurturing process, a gradual strengthening of the soul. That is why timing is never really the determining factor — it’s the quality of the time spent that matters most. Whether our intentions are good or not, the quality of our content will always determine the quality of our outcome. For me, this has been the ultimate challenge, especially over the past months and year as I underwent major life changes with my husband, children, and family.I had a standing connection with Allah long before it became outwardly obvious. Because it wasn’t flashy or loud, I was perceived as weak. I was seen as a fraud by those around me because they couldn’t comprehend the sacrifices I was making quietly along the way. While I was working on an important, vulnerable, and humble ascending action with Allah, I was also being trolled, misunderstood, and watched by family who, despite knowing more about my circumstances, chose to strip credibility from me.The week I was arrested — falsely, for a crime I never committed — was the same week my family turned their backs on me. They embezzled my children, scolded me for spending wealth I had in my father’s name, and judged me harshly for trying to move forward. When I attempted to rebuild without leaning on my husband’s resources, it became easy for them to spin a narrative that I must have been punished by Allah, that living in my car after the arrest was proof of some hidden wrongdoing. They saw it as the collapse of a so-called act I had been playing my whole life. But in reality, proof of my innocence was sitting quietly, stored away in a federal building.Allah made me live examples of how people around me were getting away with crimes through ignorance and manipulation, while I was being accused, abused, and framed for crimes I never committed. The way I embraced the niqab, the way I embodied the guidance I had received — these were used against me. What was actually a cry for help against oppression was twisted into something shameful, as if I had spent my inheritance to avoid consequences, when in reality, I was leaving behind neglect and fighting to secure a future for my children — the true wealth I had invested in.Even though the accusations — including false implications of an affair — were piled against me, I never entertained betrayal. Through it all, Allah has been slowly delivering the truth, in His perfect way and time. Despite all the vulnerabilities surrounding my life, nothing is more confirming than the invisible proofs found in consistency. Consistency is who we are, what we desire, and what is truly instilled: character, morals, values, and above all, intention.Since this story is layered and deep, it cannot be flattened into surface-level assumptions. Allah’s paradox is always at play. A recurring theme I have seen is how people use authority born from their own depression, not to heal, but to exert power over the oppressed. And so, as a mother, as a woman who grew through responsibility and trials, my consistency is not found in selfish misperceptions, nor in maliciously composed reports printed against me. It is found in the unseen moments, the overlooked footage, and the silent, patient proofs that only Allah records perfectly.It turns out that controlling our feelings — expressing vulnerability, honesty, and grief — is treated as more criminal than controlling anger, manipulation, or oppression. The paradox of all this will always be obscured by the vulnerable footage that actually reserved the proper handling of this case. My vulnerable confession, made alone in my jail cell, was more important than what was truly happening in my family. It held the real case hostage, the real call for help, the true reason behind the intervention, and the real need for peace.That is why Allah will always continue to serve and deliver His parables. His proofs are subtle but certain. His revelations are delicate but deliberate. And through every injustice, every misrepresentation, every crooked framing, Allah’s certainty continues to shine. No matter how many layers of confusion, deceit, or betrayal are stacked against the truth, Allah’s way unfolds exactly as it must — with patience, with wisdom, and with an authority no worldly narrative can ever overturn. Because just as people constantly scheme against His signs, His proof is constantly orbiting, eventually showing what is right. That is why we always have to strive to pass the tests He gives us — especially the little ones — because the more we deny and use lies, the more He will reveal the way we just do that to get by.&nbsp;

Raid Against the Machine

It’s easy to sometimes have a vague understanding of the deen while still believing in Allah (SWT) and the Qur’an in its entirety. We pick it up with firm belief that its message is true, that it holds answers for us. And that belief alone carries us for a while. But then at some point, we start to regress or overlook certain verses—sometimes because we misperceive them, and sometimes because we choose to.That’s why there are so many reasons we don’t understand—and just as many ways we can. And that’s also why Allah reminds us that He can, at any moment, say “Kun fa ya kun”—“Be, and it is.” He can make anything happen in our journey, especially when we’re trying to follow through.Patience is a part of everything. It’s a universal factor in how we live, even when we think timing is everything. But timing is really just a way to see things through—it helps bring things to completion. Because when we learn something, we don’t always understand it right away. We wait to fully grasp it, and in the meantime, we try to live it.Learning is like any relationship—it’s a connection based on how we see our lives and what we expect from it. Deep down, we know life keeps changing. The outcomes are never guaranteed, but we still move forward based on what we’ve been given.Eventually we realize—it’s not the task itself we’re committed to, but the reason we committed. And everyone’s reason looks different, because we’re all dealing with different inner worlds, different surroundings, different tests. Allah doesn’t test those who are patient in the same way He tests those who are still struggling to be.The patient ones have already faced obstacles. They’ve felt the weight of differences, confusion, and delay. But they stayed committed to Allah, trusting that His creation was made in peace. They know that every good is from Him. And they’ve come to see that the painful, resentful, or off-putting interactions in this world aren’t personal. They’re often just Iblis interfering—twisting what was never meant to hurt us into something that feels like it did.And that’s why we will always have a lesson to learn. So we can understand that real understanding requires being receptive—to more than just opinions or time. It requires awareness of what’s actually happening in our living circumstances, because only living circumstances can measure other living circumstances.It’s not about checking boxes or rushing toward outcomes. It’s about removing the checklist and learning to embody the want, the need, and the impermanent stages of constant impermanence—still going for the peace that Allah made possible.In the fragile and ever-changing nature of our lives, it’s easy to overlook or even doubt the subtle, gentle truths in the Qur’an. Iblis uses that uncertainty, trying to make divine guidance feel heavy or harsh—something rigid instead of healing. But Allah, in His mercy, continuously reaffirms the truth of the Qur’an—reminding us that its message is certain, not because it forces us, but because it lovingly guides us back to what’s real. That’s why Allah speaks so thoroughly about belief and the different levels that come with it. Because belief isn’t just a switch—it deepens over time, and patience is what teaches us the value of delayed understanding and reward.&nbsp;

Patience is a Virtue

The complex dynamic of a family isn’t to be taken lightly—just like the surface of that dynamic isn’t meant to reveal all its depth. What’s seen isn’t always the whole picture. That’s why there are so many ways to approach any given problem, with solutions that are also outlets—not just to fix what’s broken, but to help prevent it from happening again.For someone like me, the decision to correct my prayers didn’t happen instantly. It came after a long trial of just doing basic prayer. I went through phases—waves of commitment, moments of weakness, frustration, and impatience. But all of that was necessary. It was the strengthening process. It helped me build a more solid approach to prayer, to understand its weight and its defining moments.&nbsp;I knew the force was real. I knew Allah was present in my life. But I didn’t yet have the confidence to fully understand. That might sound like a sad excuse—but really, it’s a valid way to recognize how intimidating belief can be. Our spiritual sense is quick to acknowledge when we’re lacking, when we’ve neglected something. And our ego, or our intuition, will respond. That’s where the battle begins—within. Constant self-assessment. A tug-of-war between what we know and what we’re ready to act on.That’s part of the phases we go through—forming the connection we have with Allah through the trial and error of our prayers. And when I reached the point where I was tired of being in that trance-like state during salah, Allah aligned the guidance with what I needed. It was precise. Like a seesaw—He balanced it with just enough support to keep me steady.This journey didn’t start with salah alone. It began when I started exploring life itself, the soul, and what happens when we pass. And every time I looked back, I could see the sequence of events—how Allah kept confirming the guidance, inspiring me, leaving me no choice but to keep turning toward the truth He continued to show me.It wasn’t because I fit some perfect criteria. It was because I was open to the call. That’s what people often don’t understand. The connection with Allah is a give and take. And when we don’t grasp that, it creates doubt—blinding us to the easier ways we can rise to a challenge, and pushing us toward the harder paths where we sometimes miss the opportunity altogether.When looks can be so deceiving, the deceit itself becomes the look. It becomes the expectation, the face everyone recognizes, even when it's not real. For someone like me, harkening to a truth that’s so personal yet so universally derivative, I found that my family’s quiet SOS—a distress call I didn’t even realize I was a part of—was really an indirect response from Allah delivering authority on land. But what unfolded felt more like a Broadway show called Wicked.A show where my struggles, my weaknesses, even my strengths, were on full display—twisted into scenes I never asked for. Used to entrap me in roles I never auditioned for. Roles shaped by years of misunderstanding, projections, and emotional debt no one ever paid off. They took the present confusion and the past pain (or the other way around) of my family and used it like a script—to control the narrative, to define me, and to prevent the good nature that usually tames the beast of the passage… from actually reaching its climax.That good nature—my instinct to hold space, to forgive, to try—is what usually helps the process move forward. But when your softness is used against you, when your stillness is mistaken for guilt, and your strength mistaken for defiance, it becomes harder to move. It becomes harder to breathe within the same walls that raised you. And yet, through it all, Allah was near. Watching. Rewriting. Waiting for me to see what He already knew.That is why Allah will always supplement the steps you take getting to know the treaded path He paves—so you don’t mistake the source that planned it that way. So you don’t give credit to coincidence when it was His Mercy guiding you the whole time. Every subtle shift in your heart, every inner dialogue, every pause you took instead of reacting—He saw it. And He responded in ways you weren’t even always ready to understand.Because it's a responsibility—to relieve yourself from the unspoken nuances surrounding you. The ones that mold your decisions before you even realize it. The silence in the room when truth is mentioned. The tension in the air when you choose peace over performance. These things shape the path too. And Allah knows that. Which is why He waits—not passively, but with full knowledge of what’s unfolding. Waiting for the result of the call. Waiting for you to respond to your own prayer.We often think we’re the ones calling out. But sometimes we forget—He was the One who placed the call first. We just picked up later.And when we finally arrive at that clarity, we realize—we were never truly lost, only redirected. Brought back through experience, through pressure, through roles we never asked for but were shaped by anyway. Because once you start to recognize the divine reasoning woven into the struggle, the chaos begins to quiet. The confusion loses its grip. The noise softens, and what’s left is the meaning that was always there, waiting to be seen.

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