Reminds me of the creek at camp.
There were some girls tanning in g-rated shocking pink / brown bikinis, big shades on, beaded hemp around their necks... Sipping on their water bottles, flipping through magazines- laughing giggling, unwanted flesh leaking out.
I was in a long black gown, with a hijab on, I had on jeans underneath- I was so tempted to roll my jeans up, and whip of the hijab, and just soak it up, the sun, the coldness, the water.
They kept staring at me, for once in my life I knew how it felt, to be looked upon, but somwhere within me I found this strength, only God can judge me, those girls are just like me, flesh and blood, they hurt, they bleed, it's their choice to show that, it's my choice to be covered. I just laid in the water, drenching, cold, and they stared at me some more, I was in a long black gown with a hijab on I just sat in the water- and to them that must look abnormal. I said outloud to them ' trying not to get dark ' :) .... they laughed.

A girl lastnight gave a speech about hijab ' I laugh , I have just as much fun as you guys do , but my true beauty is covered, NO guy knows what I look like, I'm so selfish of my beauty I do not flaunt it, only my husband will have the ' privilege ' of seeing me, I'm a treasure that is not visible .' She said the real and true beauty is inside... the heart , the mind, your intentions. Made me think for a while.... she said the good believers wear it, just as they are good christians , the good christians , the strong ones , veil themselves.... I guess it comes in all forms of religion they are the strong believers the good ones, and the weak believers the bad ones. Made me think about the hijab again.. it's just cloth doesn't hurt you, its soft.

I looked to the sisters that stand before me, all of them younger than me, all of them so much stronger, a inspiration I have had the privilege to see them grow from a little girl to a women.
Everyone of them wears hijab, MashAllah. And I look to myself.

Yeh I'm bashing my bones around, but sometimes that inner void needs to come out, either through fasting, praying, reading Quran , writing , talking to someone, it needs to come out, so mine comes out like this.

I have so many inner battles inside that I'm trying to suppress*, so many defenses needs to be made, and tackled at from the opponent, blood sheds, heart flickers. When I hear someone talk about the day of Judgement it makes the hair on my arms rise, I get cold , my eyes bulge, and I think, of all the sins that have accumulated within me, and I look to my right hand, this will be the hand that my deeds are delivered too on that day. So many things I'm trying to stop.
They say those that do not help themselves, Allah will not help. And I think some more, maybe that's why my mood goes from happy to sad, to ' what is this ' - I want the big picture, I'm always wanting more, I'm always wanting that love, when I should look around and be satisfied and thankful........ maybe before love can come, I should be thankful for the bounties that Allah ( swt) has given to me in my path - I'm healthy, I'm getting a education, I have the luxuries to create something for my peers, I have the privilege to lend some time to attend a meeting, instead children in third world countries must bustle their behinds home from the town all the way to the country side after school, to buy bread, to fetch loads of hay for the villager for $ 4.00 that really accounts to $ 50 over here in North America, going home, that child must feel tired, after a long hard day , and feels the need to just let go, allow his or her's thoughts to roam, they don't have the privilege to blog, or go on msn, or go out for coffee or go to the cinema and dinner. They wear the same white elmo shirt that has travled in a brown card borad box all the way from the U.K or Canada.. wherever and that shirt fulfills all to them, just Elmo being on that shirt is good enough for them, but nay! we must have the right fabric, size, fitting at the waist, ' no this makes my chest pop ' or whatever. They go home after preparing for the night, lighting candles, locking up the gates, sleeping with one eye open so no one takes his or her's life and their familes , they are awake constantly never sleeping, they don't even have one second to dream... NO dreaming.. imagine that, but yet we can dream, and blog it - express it. And I look to my hands, they are smooth they smell of Victoria Secret strawberry lotion, they have no bruises, or callous on them, no markings of work, just of pedicures, and massaging.

And I look to the past entries...and I'm in shame. I told a soul once ' This may sound cheezy, but I want to build houses in third world countries when I get older, with my husband ' I want to have fought my inner battles, to fight the battle for my humanitarian brothers and sisters, to see someone smile is truly a blessing, it makes you rich. I want the sweat to be dripping off my forhead, I want the sun to sting my skin, I want to look up after from digging a hole for the lay down of the house, and see him look to me and smile. I want to fight the battles to get to you, so maybe me and this lad can make something better, it may not be big or even small, just tiny, but it's worth soemthing.

I can type more, but then we are entering in to another forsaken realm of pain staking talks, thoughts and words of the heart. And well were trying to see higher than that, for now I want to work hard and help people.

How did I go from a picture of a creek to girls tanning to hijab to building houes. to love again. ??
It always ends with love.. ugh!