A cup of matcha, a sip of gratitude

This morning, I stumbled upon a post on Instagram.

Instead of thinking about the challenges in your life, why not count and celebrate little blessings?

Let’s rewind a bit.

For the last three weeks, I almost had no days off. Maybe two Sundays, but those were spent on house chores and groceries. So yesterday, Saturday, the adrenaline wore off and I could finally “hear” my body and surprise surprise! it was exhausted. I needed a full day of rest. But still, Saturdays are for important things first: I took my daughter for her flu vaccine, then we did some stationery shopping. Oddly, Medan’s traffic was unusually heavy. I was worn off after lunch and decided to go home.

Then came today. Sunday. I planned to go to CFD, but my friend has been sick since Friday, and going alone didn’t feel appealing. My daughter had her coding class, and I still felt as drained as yesterday. I decided not to let the day slip away. I grabbed my bag, put on my helmet, with no plan in mind. On the way, I remembered a matcha place I saw on TikTok, and had noticed a few paper bags from the same shop in my office. Someone clearly loved it. And here I am, at Mtch Bar Medan.

So… about those “little celebrations.”

Maybe “celebrations” isn’t the right word. With everything still happening in Palestine, even small moments of joy sometimes feel off. So not celebrations. Just gratefulness. Grateful that at this age, Allah has entrusted me with many of the things I once prayed for.

Yesterday evening, my daughter said something that broke my heart: “Why do I get to be so ugly?” She’s only in 4th grade. No girl, no woman, should feel that way. I asked her gently what made her feel like that. She admitted she was comparing herself to her best friend. I didn’t blame her. It’s just part of human.

I took a deep breath and told her:

“Nak, do you know what makes you beautiful? It’s how you treat people. How you’re silly and full of questions. How you follow your gut to do what’s right. Of course looks matter, but not in the way you think. Beauty is in your iman, your kindness, your confidence, your own style, and how you take care of yourself.”

I showed her pictures of successful people with brown skin. Some educated, hardworking, confident women. Maybe my words didn’t land as I hoped, but the images seemed to help.

It was almost bedtime, so we talked a bit more until she drifted to sleep. Raising an early teenager is something else. But alhamdulillah, I’m grateful for these moments, bonding over difficult conversations. Sometimes I pretend to be wise so she hears the right words, even though when I was her age, I had no one to talk to about such things. I learned to rely on myself, even when I was wrong.

So here I am, with a cup of matcha that surprisingly tastes sooo good, as a little prize for myself. Alhamdulillah alhamdulillah for surviving the last three weeks, and still mothering without losing myself.