When Surrender Becomes Strength

Well, I entered 2025 with the flu.

Even though it’s much milder thanks to modern medicine, it’s still rough. My appetite is low, my energy even lower. Being stuck in bed has made my body feel weak, and even my mental energy has dipped. Writing emails that require thought tires me. Even praying through my long list of names wears me out, since even whispering makes me cough. It’s not fun.

I wonder—is this it? Is this the year I go home? I feel ready, and I long to go. But I won’t bother God with demands about when to take me. I know I’m sincere when I speak with Him each night before sleep, saying that I am happy, I am thankful, and I bow to His will—whether tonight is the night or He decides to keep me here a little longer.

I do have one consistent request: to serve and teach. And yes, typical of being human—I want more.

I am still struggling with my ego.

But even just being aware of it helps quiet it down. And what a beautiful feeling it is when I am not its slave. When those old negative emotions arise—grudges, judgments, memories of who wronged me—I catch myself. I remember: we are all human, and I too have hurt others, knowingly or not. I reflect on how almost every supposed injustice I’ve faced has led me to a better place.

My negativity turns to gratitude—for them and for God. I often remember the beautiful words of Baha’u’llah, the Prophet-Founder of the Baha’i Faith, in The Hidden Words:

My calamity is My providence, outwardly it is fire and vengeance, but inwardly it is light and mercy. Hasten thereunto that thou mayest become an eternal light and an immortal spirit.

Not a day goes by that I don’t reflect on the many ways God, the All-Merciful, has guided me—placing people and situations in my path that, though painful at the time, made my life richer in every way.

Do not think I’m always calm. I have my moments. I fall into self-pity, into turning the mirror outward when things don’t go my way. But thankfully, my conscience kicks in, and I’m freed from that prison. Clarity returns. Peace returns. I consider that a taste of Heaven on Earth.

Physically and mentally, I’m tired.

Even simple games like FreeCell or Spider stump me—and that, of course, is a disaster! (LOL) But I am happy. God continues to bless me beyond all expectation. Thank You, God—the All-Merciful.

I’m feeling a bit better, though still weak and without much appetite. I’m restless. I want to take my usual walk, but my knees only allow a few slow steps around my room. Even my favorite TV shows and solitary games don’t excite me right now. This sense of boredom is uncomfortable.

I don’t even know what I’m complaining about—there’s nothing specific. It’s like everything and nothing all at once. And because I can’t identify the problem, I don’t know how to solve it. This is new to me. I’ve always been good at naming and tackling issues. I suppose it’s part of aging—a stage I haven’t been through before. Maybe when my body regains strength, my mind will too.

In any case, I must stay vigilant in surrendering all my affairs to God and accepting what I cannot yet understand.

Is there such a thing as a miracle?

Maybe a miracle is simply what we notice as miraculous. I’m coming to see that what we call “miracles” are often just God’s daily work—always unfolding, even if we only notice it in rare flashes, like the blink of an old camera shutter.

Since moving into this facility—my last home before my eternal one—I’ve experienced so many beautiful, unexpected events I could never have imagined. Just last night, I had another one.

I’ve been translating my articles into Farsi, a project inspired during one of my late-night prayer walks. At first, it was just wishful thinking—I couldn’t see how I’d actually do it. But God kept sending angels to help with each step.

Recently, the challenge became: where to post them? I was beginning to feel discouraged. Then another angel appeared. An Iranian woman stepped in and took the project upon herself. Thanks to her, my first translated article will be published soon.

Just a few days ago, I was ready to let it go if it wasn’t God’s will. And now? It’s alive. Such freedom. Praised be God.

So again I ask: are these “miracles”? Or are they simply God’s regular work—finally seen when our hearts are open enough?

I’ve been thinking: life has a funny way of bringing us full circle.

When I left my country of birth at 26 or 27, I burned every bridge behind me. I even blocked out the language I grew up with. For most of my life, I distanced myself from my fellow countrymen, keeping only a small circle.

But God had different plans. First came the idea to publish my articles. Then, more recently, the idea to translate them into Farsi. And with that came a stream of angels—Iranians—offering help that made the impossible possible.

I left Iran with deep resentment. Now, I find myself full of love for that country and its people. I don’t understand it. What does it all mean, especially now, so late in my life?

Before all this is over, I hope I come to understand why this transformation has taken place within me.

I’m very tired and feel weaker. I mostly want to sleep. My knees are wobbly from lack of walking, and my appetite is so poor I have to force myself to eat or drink a protein shake. I am not having fun.

One bright moment today: I had an hour-long session with a client. That kind of work gives me energy.

But one thing drained me. A dear friend—one of my angels—who has long fought her health issues, is now in ICU with a dangerous new crisis. Her outcome is uncertain. If she dies, I will be happy for her—she’ll be free. But I’ll grieve not having her here with me. I hope she doesn’t go before I do.

My prejudice revisited.

When I heard about the fire in Hollywood, I thought: Maybe this is God’s way of waking up those whose lifestyles aren’t God-centered.

Then I heard that many Baha’is—including Iranian Baha’is—live there and were affected. That shook me. How arrogant I was to judge others! Who am I to decide who deserves what?

For two years I’ve worked hard to clean up my ego before meeting my Maker—and then with a small test, I fall flat on my face. I feel guilty, ashamed, and fearful of God. I’ve been praying for forgiveness.

A prayer for forgiveness by Abdu’l-Baha:

 O Thou forgiving Lord! Thou art the shelter of all these servants. Thou knowest all the secrets and art aware of all things. We are all helpless, and Thou art the Mighty, the Omnipotent. We are all sinners, and Thou art the Forgiver of sins, the Merciful, the Compassionate. O Lord! Look not at our shortcomings. Deal with us according to Thy grace and bounty. Our shortcomings are many, but the ocean of Thy forgiveness is boundless. Our weakness is grievous, but the existence of Thine aid and assist…

Therefore, confirm and strengthen us. Enable us to do that which is worthy of Thy holy threshold. Illumine our hearts, grant us discerning eyes and attentive ears. Resuscitate the dead and heal the sick. Bestow wealth upon the poor and give peace and security to the fearful. Accept us in Thy Kingdom and illumine us with the light of guidance. Thou art the Powerful and the Omnipotent. Thou art the Generous. Thou art the Clement. Thou art the Kind.

Physically, I’m growing weaker. My desire to eat is fading, and one of my beloved angels is now bossing me into eating more. I’m losing weight slowly. And I have enough fat to last a while, trust me! I’ve always joked that if there were such a thing as reincarnation (thank God there isn’t!), I’d come back tall and slim. Well—by the time I die, I may at least get the slim part right. One out of two ain’t bad!

I’m spending more time asleep than awake. Even thinking takes energy I don’t have. Writing emails drains me. Sometimes I don’t reply—and then I feel bad about it, which creates more unease.

I’m better on the phone. And while I talk, I walk slowly around my room.

I wonder: is this the year of my freedom?

I hope so. But I won’t ask God for it. That would mean imposing my will on His. It’s hard not to, though. Still, I’ll try to keep my promise:

I lay all my affairs in Thy hand.

I hope God will forgive my occasional lapses of memory on that promise.

My angels—my caregivers—are used to my good-natured teasing. Lately, they’ve noticed I’m too tired to joke much. They try to draw me out again, to tease me back. I love them for it.

I praise God for this place and for these people.

God truly loves me.

How else could He place me in an environment where love is poured on me daily?

By the way—I’ve been officially named “Mama,” and my room is now called Mama’s Room. I love it.

In spite of my weakness, my tiredness, and my fading appetite…

I am happy. And I am at peace.