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When Ordinary Stopped Looking Ordinary
For most of my childhood, cigarettes were simply part of the scenery. They were everywhere—family gatherings, restaurants, bus stops, university campuses. Someone was almost always smoking, and everyone else was breathing the smoke. That was simply how life looked. I didn’t like cigarettes. I hated the smell, and as a child I had a rather creative solution to the problem. I thought someone should invent a smoker’s helmet—a fully enclosed helmet that kept every puff of smoke inside so the smoker could enjoy it while the rest of us enjoyed fresh air. I was quite convinced it was a brilliant invention. Sadly, no one seemed interested in investing. But if…
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My Thoughts on Surah Al-‘Asr
Three verses. That is all. Three short verses that many Muslim children memorize before they fully understand what they are reciting. Yet generations of scholars have reflected on their depth. A statement widely attributed to Imam al-Shafi’i رحمه الله says that if people were to truly reflect upon this surah, it would be sufficient for their guidance, because it summarizes what a person needs for success in this life and the next. Every time I recite it, I find myself asking the same question: How can only three verses contain so much? By Time. Indeed, mankind is in loss, Except for those who have believed and done righteous deeds and…
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Laughter, Lunch, and the Last Hour of Jumu’ah
Yesterday was one of those days that left me physically tired but emotionally full. The gathering began at 3 p.m. on a Friday. To be honest, I wasn’t in the best place emotionally before everyone arrived. There were things weighing on my heart, and for a moment I wondered whether I would have the energy to host at all. To make matters worse, my Temu order hadn’t arrived in time. The decorations I had planned weren’t there, and some of the games I’d prepared had to be skipped altogether. A few years ago, I probably would have felt disappointed. Yesterday, I learned that none of it really mattered. Because the…
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Finding Home in a Changing World
A Wayfarer’s Reflection Every now and then, one of my children asks a surprisingly difficult question. “Mama, where is home?” I never know how to answer in a single sentence. Is it Indonesia, where I grew up and where so many of my childhood memories still live? Is it Riyadh, where most of my children were born and where weekends often meant gathering with friends at the istiraha? Or is it Sharjah, where we are slowly building a community that once existed only in my du’ā’? The older I become, the less I think home is simply a place. Perhaps it is something much deeper. A Heart Scattered Across Maps…
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After Allah Answers the Du’a
There was a time when every du’a felt urgent. I prayed for healthy children. I prayed for enough money to pay the bills on time. I prayed for difficult conversations to soften, and for illnesses to pass. I prayed for Allah to simply make life a little lighter, as though my heart was constantly leaning against a heavy door, trying to hold it shut. My prayers in those seasons were raw, frequent, and fueled by a deep, instinctive awareness that I had absolutely nowhere else to turn. Looking back now, I can see that Allah answered so many of those prayers. Not all at once, and perhaps not always in…
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The Unglamorous Truth of Going Back to Fitness
Why My Journey Restarted with Workouts for Seniors When we talk about women reclaiming their health, the modern world loves to sell us an inspiring image of transformation. Join a gym. Buy new workout clothes. Commit to a challenge. Push harder. Push through the pain. Become the best version of yourself. But for a body that has spent nearly two decades occupied by pregnancies, interrupted sleep, caregiving, chronic conditions, and motherhood, that narrative feels strangely disconnected from reality. After years of carrying everyone else, you cannot always return to fitness in the same way you left it. You begin exactly where your body allows you to begin. And for me,…
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I See Myself in Her
On Overwhelmed Mothers, Changing Bodies, and the Bridge We Still Need to Build I do not write this because I am ungrateful. Alhamdulillah, Allah has blessed me far beyond what I deserve. A husband. Children. A home. Food on the table. Decades of memories. The immense privilege of motherhood itself. Naturally, I know these are blessings, and I am fully aware that many people long for exactly what I have. Yet, I also know that Allah says: لَقَدْ خَلَقْنَا الْإِنسَانَ فِي كَبَدٍ “Indeed, We have created humankind in toil and hardship.” Surah Al-Balad 90:4 Ultimately, hardship is not the opposite of gratitude; it is simply part of being human. Consequently,…
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The Neurodivergent Tax
There is a particular kind of expense that rarely appears in family budgets. No one plans for it. No one talks about it. Yet, some of us pay it every single day. I have heard it called the ADHD tax. Perhaps, for me, it is more accurate to call it the neurodivergent tax. Though I have never been formally diagnosed, these experiences resonate with me at a cellular level. It is the literal cost of existing in a world that expects certain kinds of minds to function effortlessly. It looks like the quiet accumulation of minor replacements: Sometimes it looks like buying groceries when I already have ingredients at home.…
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The Inner Thoughts of a Perimenopausal Woman
On Household Management, Overgiving, and Running Out of Bandwidth There should probably be an official translator for the inner thoughts of a perimenopausal woman. Not because we are irrational. Not because we are angry all the time. But because there seems to come a point in midlife where the part of us that spent decades smoothing things over quietly packs up its bags and leaves. For years, our default response to everything was simple: It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. I’ll just do it. I’ll just clean it. I’ll just buy it. I’ll just absorb it. And then one day, somewhere between fluctuating hormones, interrupted sleep, chronic fatigue, decades…
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When Everyone Speaks the Language of Invisible Work
Recently, I hosted an all-women’s pool gathering, and I cannot stop thinking about how beautiful it was. Not only because the children had fun, or because there was a giant spread of food, or because the pool was full of laughter. But because, for a few hours, I was surrounded by women who truly understood. Before the gathering even began, the invisible work was already in motion. I am so incredibly grateful to my husband and my older boys, who were gracious enough to completely give the house over to the women and girls for the day. They didn’t just step aside so everyone could swim comfortably and relax freely;…
