Where's My Bahoo?

My FIL called this weekend asking, “Where’s my Bahoo? Why haven’t you bought your ticket to come to Pakistan?”

Some quick updates-

I have been very busy with many interviews and the entire rigor moral that accompanies. I have been researching the organizations and their programs, printing references, updating my cover letter for the umpteenth time, googling the directions, getting lost, putting on smiley interview face, and feeling crushed when I find that it isn’t the “right” job or worse, yet, that I am not the “right” candidate.

I have been quite emotional. I am so very sad about the present plight of Muslims. I, too, grow tired of defending. How much more can we explain away, tolerate, and defend? For what price are we willing to support the senseless heretics? How sad it is that even the most devout believers, who are, by far, the majority, feel powerless to change and are scared for themselves and the future of Islam.

This is not an attack, but speaking my fears out loud in hopes of returning to my path to the greatness that Islam has to offer. I have met and read about so many beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, respectful, peaceful, spiritual, and artistic Muslims. I have seen the beauty from within. I now witness so many of these beloved people growing tired of the defense.

In the midst of all of this sadness and self-conflict, me thinks, “At least my Abbu Ji loves me!”