Choosing Belief in the Middle of the Unknown

There is a way of living that I am choosing — not someday, not when everything lines up, not when the world decides to clap for me — but now. Today. A way of living rooted in what I believe is possible, not just what I can see in front of me.

Because the truth is, I forget.

I forget that I am someone who has walked through the “cannot,” the “will not,” the “not yet,” and still found a way. That this is my DNA As a descendant of those who came through the Door of No Return, and returned. As a Merikin descendant, as the grand daughter of Sheila Gomez Sandy who all found a way. It is undeniable.

I forget that hope is not naïve — it is strategy.

I forget that faith is not a feeling — it is a tool.

And when I forget, I get pulled into that old trap:

waiting for proof, waiting for validation, waiting to be chosen.

Scrolling and comparing until my spirit starts whispering, “Why not me? Why isn’t it happening yet?”

It’s so easy to get stuck in the limitations, the gaps, the noise. Especially with all the noise with the wars, rumors of war, the political scene.

But here I am, building an organisation for young women who carry more challenges than most people will ever understand.

Here I am, holding space for their dreams while wrestling with my own doubts, my own tiredness, my own moments of frustration.

Here I am, still choosing to believe in what is not yet visible.

And that is why I must remember.

Always, always remember.

Faith is not something outside of me — it is something I can pick up and use.

Hope is not a luxury — it is a lifeline.

My experiences, every single one, have been teaching me this over and over again:

that the world shifts when I shift,

that the path appears when I move,

that the vision becomes real when I dare to believe in it again.

So this is my rally call — to myself, to anyone walking a similar road:

Choose the life you want to live.

Choose the belief that lifts you.

Choose the hope that steadies you.

Choose the faith that reminds you who you are.

Not because it’s easy.

Not because everything is clear.

But because faith is a tool — a powerful, practical, everyday tool — and I am learning to reach for it again and again.

This is how I want to live my life now.

In hope.

In faith.

In the quiet courage of remembering.

Peace and Blessings