You may read part 1 here

Merely four days after publishing my story, I got the awaited call. There was hope after all. The trip was going to happen. The estimated dates had been communicated. We were indeed going for Umrah, yeeyy!! But there was a catch. Members of the initial group that was to travel had taken a step back. Only two of us were remaining: the chairlady and I. Only the two of us would be going.

There was a pause in my voice, an apparent hesitation. Only two of us?! The structural change was stark. Traveling without a mahram was already a matter of deep contemplation for me, but the presence of a group had felt like an acceptable allowance within Shariah. Now, I was traveling without both that reassurance and a group. I requested some time to think about it, pray about it. The logistics alone felt overwhelming. What if something unexpected happened on the journey? What if we faced confusion or difficulty navigating the crowds alone? But above all, the lingering question that weighed on my conscience was, ‘Will this be displeasing to Allah? The lack of both a mahram and a group?’

I laid down my Muswallah and prayed two rakaats of istikhara. At this point, my head was going in circles. Fear engulfed me. What if I go all the way to Makkah, perform Umrah, and I don’t get the full reward just for this reason?

As I reached for my phone, the notification blinked on the screen; the visa was finally out. For a moment, everything inside me stilled. I just stared, letting the reality sink in. After all the waiting, all the praying, all the back-and-forth of hope and disappointment… the door had finally opened.

I felt a lightness in my chest, almost like a small wave of relief washing over me. Alhamdulilah. This was really happening. I whispered a quiet Thank You to Allah, trying to savour that tiny moment of joy before it slipped away.

But almost immediately after that calm came the familiar tightening in my heart. A quiet nervousness creeping in from the edges. Was this truly the answer to my istikhara? If Allah opened this door in such an unexpected way, what was I meant to understand? Why did my joy feel tangled with fear?

Little by little, the worries began to circle again… the lack of a mahram, the group shrinking to just the two of us, the uncertainty of travelling this way. Happiness, relief, fear, sadness… everything collapsed into each other until I wasn’t sure which feeling belonged where. The trip was now confirmed. I was to travel after one day.

That one day was painfully long. It was mostly me making phone calls to the learned scholars in my circle. What am I to do? The more the answers varied, the more heartbroken I felt. But throughout, my family insisted, ‘You’ve done your bit. You asked. You prayed. You cannot do anything at this point. This is out of your control. Now just tawakkal.’

The morning of the journey, I was a mess. Tears flowing. Heart aching. I make one last call to the ‘Hudaibiyyah’ friend, the same one who reminded me of Hudaibiyyah when my first trip got cancelled. She says to me, “Lubnah, when you prepared so perfectly for this journey, Allah closed that door. Now, when everything is imperfect, is when He’s opened the door. You have to trust there is kheyr in this even when you don’t see it. Rejoice! You’re going for umrah!”

And so I left. Broke. Broken. Tired. Unsure.

This is not how I envisioned my journey. Everything was out of place. And as a perfectionist, nothing tears me down like a messed-up plan. But then I remembered something. Throughout the months leading up to this journey, I prayed a lot about every single aspect of it. Including companionship. I was very specific about what type of companionship I wanted. If this is what Allah has chosen for me, then there must be a reason. A wisdom. A lesson that perhaps I would only learn if we were just the two of us. And boy, oh boy, did I not learn?!

***

Remember when the Chair, my partner, previously warned us that our patience shall be tested? She was absolutely right. It started with the bus trip from Mombasa to Nairobi. What would usually take 8/9 hours took me 12 good, long hours. And I had to keep reminding myself of the verse in Suratul Naml, “This is by the grace of my Lord to test me whether I am grateful or ungrateful. And whoever is grateful, it is only for their own good. But whoever is ungrateful, surely my Lord is Self-Sufficient, Most Generous.” I arrived, exhausted but grateful. Much calmer now.

Our trip to Saudi Arabia was very early the next day, and so before I slept, we had a quick conversation with my partner. We were to enter into the state of ihram before we left home, since we’d pass the miqaat while on air. Okay? Okay. I’ve got this.

I knew I’d got this because do you know how many videos of Umrah I had watched? Many, simply too many. I was sure I’d got this. The next morning, I got ready, went into the state of ihram and set off to the airport. On the way, my cousin asks me casually, ‘And so which soap did you use since scented ones are not permitted in Ihram?’ And I…

HOW ON EARTH DID I FORGET THAT?

Yep, not only did I use a scented soap. I forgot to wash my hair too 🥲

Listeeeen, nothing bothers an anxious person than being an inconvenience to someone else. Now, how was I going to break the news to my partner? 🥲 Mind you, this is someone I’d just met once before the Umrah trip plans, and talked only a couple of times. Yep, I hated myself in that moment.

When I told her though, she simply suggested I check whether I can do the ghusl in one of the washrooms within the airport. But due to a lack of water, that was not possible. We had to change our plans entirely. We’d get to our hotel, I’d redo the process, then go to Masjid Aisha as our new miqaat location, then leave for Makkah. She was calm and graceful about it in a way that I was so grateful for.

When we were at the airport in Saudi now buying SIM cards, and they couldn’t get my fingerprints due to sweat. The man kept telling me to wipe my hands, but it was simply not working. They brought the tissues, they even brought a small fan in front of me lol but my hands just wouldn’t cooperate. The man looks at me and says, “You need to relax. Relax…” In my mind, I’m like, ‘Yeah. So easy for you to say!’ But my tongue utters something else, “It’s my first time here.” I chuckle softly. “Ohh! Most welcome!… Let’s use your sister’s fingerprints then.” And so we do.

We get to the hotel. We do our thing. But of course, me being me, I just had to, I just had to! mess it around a little bit more 😄

JUST as we were about to leave the hotel room, both of us already in our abayas, genius me said to myself, “I’m going to talk to my Lord. I need to freshen up my mouth again.” And yep! I went for the flavoured, scented toothpaste. When I was done, I casually asked my partner, “BY THE WAY, is this okay?” My goodness. Next, we were quickly Google searching on the permissibility of scented/flavoured toothpastes, SMH. Some say it is disliked, some say it is okay. Most suggest miswak as that is the safest. All in all, at least it not haraam. Phew, alhamdulilah. My partner says to me, “Remember, Allah does not expect or require perfection from you. All He looks at is your effort. You’ve put in the effort, leave the rest to Him.” And throughout the journey, that’s something she frequently reminded me about. Allah does not expect perfection. Just sincere effort.

By the time we got to Masjid Al Haram, it was already Asr time. The lower floor, which leads directly to the Kaabah, was already full, so we moved to the first floor. The place is too crowded, it feels like the entire Ummat Muhammad is there, subhanallah. I was overwhelmed; I couldn’t even fully comprehend what was going on. We got a place to sit, and it wasn’t until I heard the familiar adhan, the adhan we’d heard over and over again since childhood, on our TVs, that it struck me hard. I’m here. I’m truly here. I am in Makkah. The Kaabah is just a few steps away from me. The tears flow naturally. It feels like a dream. I am here.

After the prayers, we join the flock of pilgrims on the lower floor to start our Umrah by doing tawaf. As we were entering the lower ground of the masjid towards the Kaabah, the voices of the guards echoed, “Yallah ya Hajjiyah! Yallah ya Hajji!” The constant call to “Move, pilgrim! Move, pilgrim!” was meant to control the dense crowd. On our way, we meet several groups heading in the same direction.

In my head, my favourite nasheed, ‘Ilahy Wasi’ul Karami’ by Yusuf Ayub, played. I had always daydreamed about approaching the Kaabah while this nasheed played, and in this moment, the lyrics perfectly described my state:

إلهي واسع الكرم وربُّ البيت والحرم

My God, Most Vast in Generosity, Lord of the House and the Sacred Sanctuary,

إليك أتيت منكسرًا متيبًا أغيّر القدم

To You I have come broken, weary, my steps weak and unsteady.

أُبدي طمعًا وجَلًا ويهيف خاطري وفمي

I show my hope and my fear before You, and my heart and tongue tremble.

لله الحمد انتهت بي لما أوليت من نعم

All praise belongs to God, who brought me here after all the blessings He granted me.

ضيوفك بالحُصَى نزَلوا بخير الأشهر الحُرم

Your guests have arrived with the pebbles (of Ihram), during the best and sacred months.

وجئتُك في ركائبهم إلى بردِ المتابِ ظمي

And I have come with them on their mounts, thirsty for the coolness of repentance.

The nasheed described my heart as “broken” and “trembling,” and that was the truest description of my state. My body felt physically unsteady, mirroring my spiritual vulnerability. Yet, the lyrics provided solace: I was before the “Most Vast in Generosity,” and He had brought me here despite my faults. My need for perfection was irrelevant; only His vast grace mattered.

And finally, there it was, the magnificent Kaabah right in front of me. Before I could savour its beauty, the crowd pushed me forward. I didn’t get a moment to pause. To let the moment sink in. To absorb this beautiful moment.

For me, it wasn’t a grand, beautiful moment like most people describe it on Instagram. I was overwhelmed. The place was full to the brim. I felt like I was being taken on a wave, just floating around, as we are pushed around. You know how, when you see a flock of sheep and it just seems like they are just going aimlessly? It felt like that, only that this was the tawaf. Everyone knew the direction they were headed to, but that’s simply what it felt like for me. Like I’ve been abducted by some Turkish aunties, and I’m circling around the Kaabah with them lol.

My partner and I realize we need to do something. We tie our hijabs and hold each other’s hands tightly. A man near us starts reciting dua loudly, as his what I assume to be his group mates respond to the dua. I looked around. All kinds of people. All colours of people. One minute we were with the Turkish group, next were among another South Asian, probably Malay group. It was indescribable, the feeling of witnessing all these nationalities, races, individuals, each with their own story, subhanallah. All here simply for one reason. To worship Allah. The weight of it all hit me once again. And then I cried and cried and cried. My partner heard my sobs and tightened her hand. It was a lot. I felt so overwhelmed, but also, so so emotional. So grateful.

Sometimes I would be so lost in the intimacy of my own dua, when suddenly a wave of sound would break my concentration: a powerful, soulful dua recited loudly by a stranger nearby. It was impossible not to stop and listen, my own whispers fading as I paused, feeling compelled to join the chorus, thinking, “Let me say ameen to these beautiful duas first.”😄

We move from one ritual to the other, then to the Sa’y, which felt like the hardest of all subhanallah. The walk between Safa and Marwa was so humbling. You see all kinds of people walking back and forth; some in crutches, some in wheelchairs, some very old, some very young, some with visible physical deformities, some young, strong and fit. You get to appreciate your health, your youth, your strength, and above all, contemplate on our mother, Hajar and her journey.

For the next few days, our life revolved around Masjid Al Haram and its environs. And what a pleasure, what an honour, to just stand behind Imams we’ve longed to hear in real life, to gaze at the Kaabah late into the night, to have solitude with Allah that we’ve always craved for, to meet so many lovely souls within the Haram. It was during this period that we met a friend of my partner, a Ugandan lady who was an inspiring, joyful soul and an activist. Her presence added a vibrant, familiar energy to our quieter routines in the Holy Lands. We had such wholesome and intriguing conversations with her, ranging from the Umrah experiences to Palestine and world injustices, to shared views on community upliftment. Her perspective, rooted in both faith and practical action, was a quiet inspiration. These unexpected meetings, though brief, reinforced the core lesson that Allah had chosen this specific, small company, including my partner and her friends, for my journey.

But above all, the greatest lessons were found in the day-to-day reality of living with my partner, which became yet another profound journey of learning for me.

***

Look, they’re not wrong. There are two kinds of people on this earth: me and my partner.She’s naturally outgoing, bubbly, effortlessly friendly, the kind of person who starts conversations with strangers in a queue and somehow walks away having made a friend. She’s bold, brave, and courageous, always ready to face whatever comes her way with a fearless heart.And then there’s me. A little quieter, a little more cautious. The observer. The overthinker. Gentle, soft-hearted, always careful about the next move.Even our food orders tell the story. Her plate is full of colour , greens, olives, and all things fresh, nourishing, and wholesome. Mine? Small portions of junk, whatever comfort food I can get my hands on. She takes life in strides, saying “Whatever happens, happens” with a calmness and groundedness I quietly admire. Meanwhile, I try to control every tiny detail, like peace depends on it. I don’t flow with life as easily, I wade through it with intention and constant questions.

I remember one afternoon, she bought me a Matcha. Very confidently, she said, “This slaaaps! You’ll love it!” I took the first sip and exclaimed, “Oh my God! They were right! This tastes like graaasss!” And we burst into laughter.See? Two kinds of people.You may call us the dynamic duo 😄

And so, very quickly, we learnt how widely different we are. Yet one thing connected us. One thing remained true: we are both striving souls, both seeking the pleasure of Allah, both deep in understanding the human psychology, both passionate about the pen and ink. And so we slowly learnt how to adjust to one another, accommodate one another, but most importantly, give each other grace. For someone who truly embodied the Islamic lifestyle, from her clothing to eating to health care to parenting to prophetic medicine, there was so much inspiration and wisdom I acquired from her.

I vividly remember one morning when I was so in my head. I had prayed istikhara about a matter and was just thinking about it privately as I hadn’t yet shared it with my partner. We were heading for breakfast when she started telling a story. I don’t even know how that conversation started, but she started sharing an experience she had had with a friend and what she’d advised her in that moment. As I kept listening, I could feel the goosebumps on my body. Her friend’s situation was quite exactly the same as mine. And there it was, the answer to my istikhara. Subhanallah. What are the odds? For me, it honestly felt like she was my Khidr, my teacher, in this journey.

We had many deep, eye-opening conversations throughout the journey, which made me realize why exactly Allah chose this trip for us together. Despite our differing approaches, our values, principles, and faith are well-aligned, and we shared the same deep aspirations in Deen. We focused on gently navigating our differences, both between us and with other people along the way, while simultaneously strengthening our shared purpose. Through this, we slowly learnt how to adjust to and accommodate one another, but most importantly, to give each other grace. As she would sometimes say to me, “Lubnah, this is marriage!” highlighting how individuals with good intentions may vastly differ in behaviour, personality, and mindset. This revealed the deeper dynamic of all relationships and the commitment required to make them work.

And so throughout the journey, the repeated theme was grace. Grace, grace, grace. And it was so beautiful and even comforting to experience and witness.

***

On our last night in Makkah, we headed for Qiyam. The distance between the bus stop and the masjid was quite a bit, so we trudged on, half asleep. My partner was listening to a voice note she’d received, when she started nudging me gently with her hand. “What’s wrong?” I asked. She kept listening, her hand still nudging mine, and soon she was in tears. “I’m fine,” she murmured between sobs. I knew she was undergoing a distressful stress during this trip, and I truly admired how she handled the entire matter with such calm and composure. We held each other tightly as she went on weeping. Finally, she managed to speak: “I prayed to Allah for a sign of His pleasure regarding my patience, and He has answered me! He has done it for me!” Goosebumps spread all over me as she narrated the news she’d just received. My heart just melted at how merciful Allah is, how good our Lord is. As she kept sobbing, we paused walking, embracing tighter, right under the last third of the night light. My heart was in awe with our Lord. Oh how generous our Lord is, subhanallah!

We then proceeded to do tawaf. The tahajjud gang was already there, so it was quite packed, subhanallah. We held each other’s hands and started circumambulating around the Kaabah. As we kept being moved by the crowd, at some point we found ourselves right at Maqam Ibrahim, and we were able to look at it closely, albeit in a minute and touch it, alhamdulilah. We then proceeded around. To be honest, for all the times we’d done tawaf, there was no way we could have touched the Kaabah. It was simply too packed, and we were just limited as two ladies surrounded by masculine men. But then at some point, almost in a miraculous way, I noticed an opening on my left side; there it was, right in front of me, just an empty space in the direction of the Kaaba. I turned to my partner, “Look! We have a chance!” She nodded, and we proceeded to move closer and closer to it. Wallahy at that moment, I just felt that that was Allah’s mercy. Cause of how people were moving, that space just appeared out of nowhere. It was like people literally made space for us, subhanallah.

So we inched closer and closer until we reached like three lines away from it. Now that was where the tug of war was happening. Everyone was scrambling to touch the Kaaba. A lady was groaning in front of us; you could see she was literally suffocating, trying to find her way out. Another Egyptian woman was stuck to the Kaaba, crying, not budging despite all the push and pull. And as my younger sister said when she heard the story, all that scrambling I’ve done with matatus back home had been preparing me for this moment 😂 I pushed myself harder into the crowd. I stretched my hand. I widened my fingers apart trying to touch the Kaaba. It was so so close. So close, but my hand was short. My partner, who’s taller than me, tried to pull my hand closer, and she kept doing that until we both finally touched the Kaaba. And that moment was so surreal, so emotional. I couldn’t hold myself back and just started sobbing, my weeping clear to the people next to me. And I cried my heart out on that wondrous night. And this night became the most favourite part of my journey. So surreal. So profound.

***

That evening we set out to Madina, only to find that all trains had been cancelled due to another train malfunction. We found ourselves in a five-hour long drive to Madina. We arrived exhausted, but excited. The heart singing, “Qalby fil Madina”.

Madina was just….beautiful. It is crowded too, but there’s just some different air to it. It’s slower paced. Less noisy. Less people. Just the place to find the solace you’ve been longing for.

Outside our hotel we could directly see Mount Uhud. It is humongous! I was mind blown by it and my partner reminded me of that hadith on following a funeral procession:

Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said, “(A believer) who accompanies the funeral procession of a Muslim out of sincere faith and hoping to attain Allah’s reward and remains with it till the funeral prayer is offered and the burial ceremonies are over, he will return with a reward of two Qirats. Each Qirat is like the size of the (Mount) Uhud. He who offers the funeral prayer only and returns before the burial, will return with the reward of one Qirat only.”

You guyysss, if you knew how bigggg that mount is, I don’t think any of us would miss a salatul janazah. And to think of how the prayer itself takes less than five minutes? I was mind blown!

There was just so much peace in Madina. Especially the Fajr hours, and you get to witness the amazing sunrise and the beautiful ‘umbrellas’ unfolding simultaneously.

It was quite heartbreaking to not have had a chance to go to the Rawdha. Due to the quick plans, we only got to be in the waitlist. I still joined the line in an attempt for another miracle 😄 But yeah, the guard wouldn’t hear it. I felt that kiaziiii 💔 It was heartbreaking. But then, I felt like I had no right to complain at all. Many things didn’t turn out as we initially anticipated, many places we didn’t get to go. We also didn’t get to visit Quba, or any of the other surrounding places. We didn’t do much of anything much beyond the Haram and our hotel room. The time was short and many things were not in our control, but Alhamdulilah for every blessing. This was simply not my night at the Rawdha. Maybe not the trip to explore all the towns and their deep histories. This trip simply felt like an intimate moment with my Lord with lessons to be learnt throughout the journey.

Leaving the town to get back home was quite heavy. You feel like you’re leaving home. It reminds you why this experience is so wholesome so fulfilling, cause we get to do what we were created for; worship Allah in the most sincere of ways.

Despite all the words I’ve written, nothing can truly capture the feeling, the emotion, and the deep peace that comes with being in the Holy Lands. It’s an experience I pray to have again and again. And I pray that you, dear reader, along with every soul yearning and preparing for this journey, get to feel it over and over, surrounded by your loved ones, in good health and high spirits. Ameen.

I want to take this moment to thank each and every one of you who made dua for me when the first trip didn’t happen. Many do not know, but this was the third time this trip had been rearranged. Those duas went a long way, and alhamdulilah Allah finally made it happen. May Allah surprise you all with a similar joy of a more beautiful Umrah and Hajj ya Rab.

This trip was far from being perfect. But the clear message, the clear lesson from Allah throughout this journey is that He doesn’t want our perfection. He wants our sincerity. Our effort. Our striving. Almost like He is saying, “Come as you are beloved servant. Come tired. Come broken. Come broke. Simply come. We’ll receive you as you are.”

May Allah accept our Umrah, our broken efforts, our imperfect ibadah, our desperate duas in the most beautiful way. And for my sister, whom Allah intentionally chose as my partner in this journey, may Allah elevate your status both in this life and the next. Nothing happens by chance with Allah, and you became a beautiful part of my destiny, of my most beautiful journey yet. Thank you immensely for your kindness, generosity and companionship. Barakallahu feeki.

To my favourite stranger, the kind soul who made the payment that confirmed this entire journey: May Allah reward you beyond measure for your generosity and trust. May my humble efforts during this trip produce a ripple effect of reward for you and your family, ameen.

Above all, the greatest blessing of this experience is that the journey itself was the answer to a persistent dua. Additionally, the family mission mentioned in Part I happened, alhamdulilah, by Allah’s overwhelming mercy and grace. The greatest lesson of all was that when we turn to Him with sincerity, He takes care of the details. His promise remains true:

وَلَسَوۡفَ يُعۡطِيكَ رَبُّكَ فَتَرۡضَىٰٓ

And ˹surely˺ your Lord is going to give you, and you will be satisfied.

Allahu Akbar!

***

Alhamdulilah by the mercy and grace of Allah, my blog ‘Strokes of my Pen’ (Lubnah) has been nominated for the BAKE (Bloggers Association of Kenya) Awards- Creative Writing Creator Awards. Please take a moment to vote:
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Exactly 31 nights ago, on October 6th, I stood outside Terminal 2 at Moi International Airport, hugging my father goodbye as I waited to board my Jambojet flight. “Forgive me, Baba,” I murmured, feeling a lump in my throat. “Hmm, I have to think about it,” he laughed. “Listen, once you get there, make sure you find a way to fulfill what we asked you to do,” he reminded me of the important family mission I was tasked with once I arrived in Saudi Arabia. I nodded silently. “Let me check in.”

“It’s too early,” my brother said. 

“I know, but if I stay out here, I’ll start crying. I just want to go in.” My sister laughed as my patriarchs shook their heads. They nodded and each gave me one last hug.

As I walked inside, my brother followed, trying to help me load my luggage into the baskets. They stood there until I disappeared through the doors at the far end. Once I finally sat down, I called my mother to let her know I had checked in. She made dua for me and wished me a safe journey. That’s when the lump in my throat finally broke. I let the tears flow freely. My reality felt surreal. I was going for Umrah. Me? My good Lord. How incredible that this seemingly distant dream was finally coming true!

This very moment was a manifestation of a miracle, an answered dua, a subsequent heartbreak, and one of the most important lessons I had to learn in my life.

***

The first time I seriously began making dua for Umrah and Hajj was in 2023, after taking the ‘Raise Your Dua’ course with Shaykh Muhammad Al Shariff. Before that, I would merely daydream and make dua for a visit to the Holy Lands in passing. But after the course, this specific dua became one of my six dream duas, the ones I would repeat during sujood, when it rained, when the masjid was empty at my workplace, and in the quiet moments when I conversed with my Lord. From then on, this dream became an obsession; I posted so much about it that my friends would often reply with duas for me to make it to those blessed lands.

Towards the end of 2024, on December 23rd, I posted a story on my Instagram, a reel of Makkah, with the caption: “Dear 2025, surprise me with an Umrah trip.” I reposted it with my own caption: “Dear LORD of 2025,” but like many similar posts, I didn’t put much thought into it.

In early January, a wonderful sister, herein referred to as ‘Chairlady’ or ‘Chair,’ posted about an Umrah trip for women, and my heart immediately melted. I jokingly said, “Nibebeeeee hata kwa hendbeg,” (insert crying emoji). She laughed and replied, “Listen to me: make dua. How it happens? Leave it to Allah,” reminding me that for Allah, nothing is impossible. I quickly forgot about the conversation, though I continued my dua as usual.

About five months later, the Chairlady posted something along the lines of, “There’s a sister I talked to about Umrah some time ago, and she said she couldn’t afford the trip. If that sister is you, please DM me; I have a sponsor for you.” I must have reread that story a million times, trying to comprehend what she was saying. My heart raced, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. With shaky hands, I texted her, asking if she was referring to me or someone else. If it was someone else, I requested her to consider me for the next sponsorship opportunity.

I vividly remember sitting with my sisters on the floor during lunch, completely distracted. Finally, I received a response: “Luby! It’s you!!! I had forgotten who I had that conversation with, but it’s you!” I stood up quickly, leaving my sisters puzzled by my sudden movement. “What’s wrong?” they asked. I stayed quiet, my hands shaking intensely, struggling to find my voice. “Check whether your passport is valid and let me know right away.”

I walked into my mum’s room, half-smiling and half-teary. “Ma, where’s my passport?” I asked. “Why do you need it?” she replied. “I need to check something real quick.” She pointed to the drawer where the passport was stored. I quickly opened it, and lo and behold, it was valid! “What is it?” my mum asked again. “I…I…” The words just wouldn’t come out. “I got…a free…Umrah ticket.” Tears started to flow. “Allahu akbar! Mabrukk!” I hugged my parents tightly. “Why are you crying, though? You should be happy,” my dad said, typical of his old-fashioned responses. “It’s tears of joy,” I muttered between gasps for breath.

I then walked into the kitchen where my sisters were still eating, trying to gather myself. “I got a free Umrah ticket,” I announced. In an instant, their surprise transformed into shared joy, and we all began to cry. “Allahu akbar. Alhamdulillah.” Our gratitude and awe overwhelmed us, leaving us with little more to say. My mum quickly called my other sister and brother; with each new congratulation, my emotions deepened, and I began to sob even harder.

I never thought something this extraordinary could happen to me. It wasn’t that I doubted Allah’s ability; I just never expected to be so blessed myself. I cried and cried, amazed at how a casual conversation had turned into a realized dream. How could a stranger, who knew nothing about me, become the means of this miracle? Subhanallah, the subtle ways Allah arranges our affairs left me astounded. Grateful and still trembling with excitement, I shared with the lovely sister, “How am I supposed to live the next five months now?! I feel like I won’t be able to do anything but wait excitedly.” We shared a laugh, excited for the incredible trip that lay ahead of us.

The very first thing I did, as I awaited official confirmation of the trip, was buy a small A6 notebook for my duas. My first entry was a seven-page dua specifically for the Umrah, praying for it to actually happen, for energy and health, for ideal weather, for good companionship on the journey, and for answered prayers; you name it. Slowly but surely, I wrote down other duas over the months. I spoke to Allah more often, requesting Him to forgive me and make me worthy of this trip. I was very conscious not to sin or make any mistakes that would make me unworthy of it all. I poured my entire heart into it, painting a vivid picture of the kind of experience I wished for. That became my mantra for the next few months.

Next, I bought comfortable shoes and increased my daily step target. I wanted to be not just ready, but perfectly ready for this journey of a lifetime. Every morning, I would go to the tallest building at our workplace and walk up and down the steep staircase. If I didn’t have enough time for that morning routine, I’d try to make it up throughout the day. I wanted to get accustomed to the long walks around the Haram and Medina, and to be fit for it. I was determined; I wasn’t about to take this lifetime trip lightly.

Next, I started by watching umrah tutorials, learning about the do’s and don’ts, the best duas to recite, where to do laundry, and which apps would be useful. I downloaded the Nusuk and HHR train apps, even though it felt ridiculously early to do so. And, as we all know how Instagram picks up on our conversations, my feed and Explore page quickly filled with umrah-related reels and posts.

Also, in preparation for my trip to Madina, I began watching the Umar ibn Khattab series, as recommended by our Chair. This helped me better understand the locations we would be touring. I have heard so much about the tranquility and peace of Madina; Aaahhh! I truly couldn’t wait!

Then, I made a list of all the items I would need for my journey and began ticking them off one by one. At that time, everything revolved around umrah. All my conversations with my sisters and loved ones focused on the things I needed to get or do for the trip. It got to the point where I would say, “Aaah, look,” and my sisters would laugh and say, “For umrah, right?”

During this period, one frequent dua I made was for abundance, so I could comfortably prepare for and enjoy the trip. Subhanallah, Allah, the Most Generous, delivverreeeed! Miracles were unfolding right before my eyes. I was getting gigs left and right, and money was coming from unexpected places. Allah was facilitating every need, want, and wish. I was awed and deeply touched by Allah’s kindness towards me. It was really happening!

I remember about a month before the trip, I opened my suitcase and started packing small items one at a time. My younger sister, who had a journey coming up, laughed and said, “My trip is one week away, and I haven’t packed yet. Yours is a month away, and you’re already at it. Truly, there are two kinds of people in this world.” It’s no secret that I’m the ultimate planner, but trust me when I say I was still arranging my bag right up until the very last day. I wanted everything to be perfect. Typical, I know.

Despite my overwhelming excitement and extensive preparations over the months, I still hadn’t received official confirmation for the trip, which made me feel a bit nervous about whether it would go through. However, once it was confirmed, I couldn’t hide my joy any longer. Maybe I overdid it, but honestly, no one could comprehend how excited I was. This was about a month before the journey, and so I began texting my friends, loved ones, and everyone who had once carried my list of duas, eagerly telling them, “It’s now my turn to make dua for you in the blessed lands.”

I also informed my co-workers and asked for their forgiveness as I continued collecting duas. I ended up gathering over 50 pages of everyone’s duas. I know, I know lol, it seems like I was doing the most 😀 But guys! I was not about to be stingy with my prayers!

That night, as I nervously boarded my first plane to Nairobi, I whispered my last-minute duas, asking for this journey to be a positive turning point in my life. The one-hour flight passed quickly, and we soon landed at our destination.

As I was removing my backpack from the overhead compartment, my lovely sister, our Chairlady, called me. “Luby, did you see the texts?” I told her I had just landed and hadn’t read them yet. She then said something that left me speechless: “The agents said the system has been down, and they were unable to acquire the visas for us. Let me send an Uber to pick you up and bring you to my home.” Honestly, I don’t remember what I answered; my mind just went blank. I didn’t know what to think, say, or feel. My thoughts raced during the ride through the night.

I kept reminding myself of the words our Chairlady had said during the months of preparation: “Such spiritual trips always come with tests. No matter how much experience you have visiting the Holy lands, you will always be tested in one way or another. Be mentally prepared for that and be very patient with whatever comes.” I thought to myself, “Aha, this is what she was talking about. The tests have started. But we must stay optimistic. We must be patient.”

Our group chat was lighting up with messages expressing confusion, shock, and reminders to exercise patience and make dua. Our trip was scheduled to start at 2 AM that same night, and we all kept hoping for a miracle to happen at the last minute.

When I arrived, our Chairlady welcomed me with a long hug and a nervous laugh. The night felt long as we tried to make sense of what was happening, embracing the uncertainty and remaining patient as Allah’s plan unravelled.

The next morning, we gathered with our fellow sisters in our team. We poured our hearts out amid the chaos, reassuring each other that this was merely a phase. Allah is testing us, but He is planning something better for us. We constantly reminded one another, “Qadar Allahu wa ma sha’a fa’al” (Allah has decreed, and whatever He wills, He does).

I remember our Chair stating, “I wholeheartedly believe that there is a reason behind this delay, and Allah will reveal it to us eventually.” I added, “That’s true, but sometimes Allah tests us without providing closure. If that closure doesn’t come, that’s a test too, whether we will trust Him regardless.” For the next few days, Allah tested me on my own words.

Amidst apologies from the agents, confusion, and unclear next steps, we had no option but to wait. This became the most dreadful wait of my life.

My family and close friends continuously checked on me, sending encouraging words and beautiful reminders of Allah’s plan and the khayr in all delays. During this time, I stayed with my two lovely cousin sisters, who went above and beyond to accommodate me, comfort me, and cheer me up.

All the while, my heart was crumbling. I kept desperately speaking to Allah, saying, “Ya Allah, there must be a reason why You brought me to Nairobi. I didn’t leave home and arrive here for no reason. I know there must be a purpose. Please reveal it to me.”

For many years, I had wanted the opportunity to go to Nairobi for one significant mission in my life. When my trip brought me to a halt there, I thought maybe this was my chance; perhaps Allah wanted me to fulfill my mission. But that door was also tightly closed. It was painful trying to understand, “Why am I here then?!”, to accept and fully trust His plan. As much as I tried to smile, inside, my heart was falling apart.

At that time, despite the delay, we still held onto hope that we would be able to recover our money, obtain our visas, and travel immediately to salvage the remaining bookings we still had. So, the waiting continued. I kept myself busy by meeting old friends, spending time with my sister in law and beautiful nieces, and admiring the stunning purple Jacaranda trees outside the house; anything to keep my mind occupied.

I also had the chance to meet a lovely revert sister whom I had been in contact with for two years but had never met in person. It was such an emotional meeting for both of us. We talked, we cried (yes, she’s a crybaby, just like me), we hugged like we’d known each other forever. My cousin later told me, “Maybe your stay in Nairobi was for this reason: this beautiful meetup.” And you know what? Maybe, maybe she’s the sole reason I stayed in Nairobi. I was destined to meet this beautiful, beautiful soul, Allahumma bareek! Allah knows best, you know?

By the fifth day, as I sat at the dinner table with my two cousins, our Chair sent a voice note. As I listened, my heart raced. We had reached a dead end with the visas and had to cancel the trip while they sought legal ways to resolve the matter. I couldn’t pinpoint when the tears began to fall, but I remember the dreadful feeling of my heart sinking. What followed were the longest nights of my life. I used to think I understood what heartbreak was, but this? This was on another level. It was undoubtedly the most painful heartbreak I had ever experienced. Even as my loving cousins comforted me with Allah’s words and I recognized the truth in what they said, my heart felt like it was crumbling like a wet cookie; I was devastated.

Of course, the shaytan thrives in moments of brokenness. I began to descend into a dark rabbit hole of overthinking. Did I do something to cause Allah to take this away from me? The umrah I had waited and prayed for years for, the important family mission in Saudi Arabia, the significant personal mission in Nairobi, it felt like all the doors had not just been closed but slammed shut right in my face.

I didn’t know how to process the heavy feeling, the sadness, the grief, and the shock. How was I supposed to return to normal life after this?

I travelled back home two days later with a heavy heart, but I was glad to embrace my parents once again. However, one more major plan for the end of October also fell apart painfully. Honestly, it was a humbling moment.

The biggest lesson I learned from this experience is that, once again, I am NOT in control. Despite all the preparation I put into this trip, ultimately, it is Allah’s plan that prevails. And that plan? You have to trust it blindly, even when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, even when it doesn’t make sense, and even when you don’t understand why things had to happen the way they did.

This situation reminds me of the quote: “The universe will give you the same lesson in different forms until you master it.”

As someone who continually struggles with letting fate unfold as it comes, this was a stark reminder for me.

Above all, I kept reminding myself of my sister, our Chair, who faced an even greater challenge in losing all her bookings and tickets. She was placed in a situation that no leader or person ever wishes to be in. Whenever I thought about my own grief, I had to remind myself of hers. Yet despite everything, I found her to be resilient, patient, and firm, with unwavering faith. Alhamdulillah ala kul hal. May Allah reward her abundantly for her patience and compensate her for every heartbreak, every tear, every pain and worry and every penny she lost, ameen. Please take a moment to make dua for her, and for the other sisters in our group who also underwent this heartbreaking experience. May we all be compensated with what is better in all ways, ameen.

One of my dear friends (God bless her beautiful soul), who helped me extensively in preparing for my journey, reminded me of the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and his companions set out for Makkah to perform Umrah, but they were turned away when they were so close to the sacred land and instructed to return the following year. Despite this setback, Allah reassured them, describing that moment in the Qur’an as “a clear victory.”

This experience felt like my own Hudaybiyyah moment. Although I didn’t arrive in Makkah for Umrah, I underwent a different kind of pilgrimage in my heart. It’s a comforting perspective to hold.

It’s been 31 nights, and my suitcase still sits across my bed, mostly unpacked. My Nusuk app is still on. Umrah content still fills my Instagram explore page. Some may say it is denial. Some may say it is hope. I don’t really know where to place it; maybe somewhere in between the two. I really don’t know. In shaa Allah kheyr. In shaa Allah, it shall be well.

***

P.S. Regardless of everything that has happened, I will always be grateful to the stranger, my favourite stranger, who sponsored this trip for me. I also want to thank our Chair, whom Allah chose to be the reason I received this opportunity. I am deeply appreciative of my cousins, my sister in law, my closest friends, my loved ones, and my entire family, who went above and beyond to support me during this challenging time. May Allah bless you all in ways that will truly astonish everyone on this earth and in the heavens. Ameen.

P.S. 2: As I continued to navigate through this storm, my elder sister sent me a beautiful and soothing series on the Names of Allah by Ustadh Hisham Abu Yusuf. It has been a profound and timely reminder for me. I realize that to find peace of mind amidst life’s challenges, we first need to deeply comprehend who Allah truly is. I share this with you in the hope that it comforts you just as it has been comforting to me: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLSFZjjKC3qPYGLinbi1XurRSC3izxodtC