The road less travelled - For those patiently waiting for the sake of Allah

Assalualaikum. Hope you're doing well. This is a little reflection on the struggles during “the search” and also a note to myself. I’ll speak in first person so anyone who’s been through something similar can relate. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood..." I always wondered - why accept someone temporary without any real commitment when Allah, Rabb-ul-‘Izzah, has better plans? Plans that ask us to choose what’s halal over what’s haram, even if the haram seems tempting. For 25 years I waited for someone who would hold my hand and together we’d grow closer to Allah, love each other for His sake, and help each other become our best selves. But I learned that the path Allah wanted for me felt like holding a burning coal in my fragile palms. My skin hurt, my hands ached, tears came, yet my love for Al-Wadood stayed. I knew the pain was temporary - kullu nafsin dha’iqatul-mawt - every soul shall taste death. That thought helped: the torment would end and I’d meet my beloved in an embrace that’s truly everlasting. "Then took the other, as just as fair..." As I hit adolescence, I watched friends in forbidden relationships - soft smiles, public displays, thinking it was harmless. I wondered if this made Allah pleased. I knew it didn’t. What looked innocent could lead to worse things; Shaytaan knows how to push small compromises into big sins. I was that shy 13-year-old who hadn’t held a boy’s hand, trying to understand why Allah sets limits. Just a kid trying to love Him more. "And both that morning equally lay..." Later I saw the flip side - promises turning into hurt, lovely whispers turning into manipulation. Friends cried from being used, judged by others, and I took them back to our Rabb, telling them He is merciful and to pour out their hearts. I prayed for halal, again and again. But halal isn’t always easy to find; it can feel like searching for water in a desert, seeing mirages of charming faces and sweet talk that aren’t real. When someone reached to hold my hand, I’d pause, think, decide. Then I’d hear, La tahzan, innallaha ma’ana - do not be sad, indeed Allah is with us. I’d drop my hands and fall to my knees. Right now, being thirsty felt better than following a mirage. "I shall be telling this with a sigh..." Now I’m 25 and part of me is still that little child waiting to be rewarded for choosing halal. I wait gladly, and will until my last breath, believing there’s someone for me in Jannah, chosen and loved by my Rabb. The wait is exhausting yet uplifting. People disappoint; they choose appearances over heart and akhlaaq. It feels unfair. When my heart aches for taking the road less travelled, I fall on my knees and call to Al-Mujeeb. He answers. Hasbunallahu wa ni’mal wakeel - sufficient is Allah and He is the best Disposer of affairs - and that calms me. People may judge, be cruel, or unjust. But halal was never meant to be easy. I have to hold the coal, stay thirsty in the desert, fall to my knees when it hurts, tend my wounds, and above all, wait - patiently - because halal is hard. May Allah make it easy for all of us. Ameen ❤️