Coming to America was never “easy” for me. It only became bearable when I could say whatever Allah wills and accept what came, good or bad. The phrase became a kind of anchor. When the door didn’t open, I repeated it. When the door did, I repeated it. Same words. Different seasons.
Here’s what happened along the way.
In high school I wrote an essay for the FLEX program. It didn’t work out. I applied for Work and Travel but didn’t have the money to go. When I graduated, the pandemic hit. Embassies closed. Many of us couldn’t leave. The world shrank to our screens. I never won the Green Card lottery, I never even played. Some doors you don’t knock on. Some you do.
Then the US embassy held an event in Tashkent. They gave an IQ test to 1,200+ kids and selected 40. I was one of them. They took everyone who solved 5 out of 7 questions; 4 wasn’t enough. I solved 5. They gave my spot to someone who solved 4. Why? When they called me, I was in the metro. The signal dropped. I couldn’t answer in time. I remember standing there, phone in hand, watching the screen go dark. The kind of moment that stays with you. Not as bitterness. As a lesson. Timing isn’t always yours to control.
These days, before I do anything, I put it in Allah’s hands. Whatever happens is from Him. Everything is for the best. I’ve learned that rizq, sustenance, provision, works like this: when the time comes, either it finds you or you find your way to it. You don’t always see the path. You just keep walking.
Right now, every change I’m waiting for in my life, I’ve handed over to Allah. The same anchor. The same trust. The same phrase: whatever Allah wills.