ready made bridesmaid dresses


I arrived back in New Zealand to be greeted by my whanau with kisses, hugs and questions......

And with three ripped nails across the center of the finger nails ... Sooo painful. Along with this, l have cracked heels and hardened soles of my feet from all the walking on the various hard, dirty, dusty roads and paths. I even bought a scrubbing brush in India to help scrub the dirt off my soft soles and sandles.... But that didn't work so well. ready made bridesmaid dresses

I decided the best thing to do would be to pop into the mall today for a medi-pedi as a quick remedy before l go off to a wedding reception. I took along my own 'halal' nail polish ? .

Towards the end of my session while waiting for my polish to dry, the young lady sitting next to me stopped reading her magazine and smiled at me. I smiled back, as an unspoken invitation to converse.

She: l saw you walk in before and you look striking.

Me: thank you. (Blushing).

She: you dress very different (as she looked me up and down stopping at my accessories)

Me: l dress modestly daily. I'm a Muslim. (Always looking for that opportunity ? ).

And for a nano second she looked into my eyes and paused. So l continued....

Me: But there's no reason why we can't enjoy fashion, colour and style. ? but today l added a blingy choker because I'm going to a wedding.

As l looked at the bangle around her wrist, my eyes then scanned over the healed scarred slashes on the same wrist. I looked at her eyes and wondered about her.

So, I then told her a bit about my trip to India and we passed a few more minutes away, together as two strangers sitting side by side interested in each other's mini stories.

As the young lady jumped off her stool to leave she said. "I'm not having a good day today..... so it was so nice to meet you".

Me, thinking about her scarred wrist: l hope your day gets better it was lovely to talk with you.

I came away reflecting on three contrasting lives and our personal human struggles.

A poor Indian woman, begging (l don't like using that word but will until a find more appropriate one) and living on the dirty dusty smelly streets of a heavily populated area in New Delhi.

She is likely to always be poor and struggle to achieve basic human needs. She lives off her wits on the streets. Learning from other people living in the same condition and even working together to get what they want or need.

The young kiwi pakeha woman in the salon: with visible scars on her body.... who knows what other scaring she has had to experience and bear.

Then there's me. Absorbing everything l see through my questioning eyes. Putting my own perceptive on their lives and mine. Not knowing anything about their true reality and often questioning mine.

Yet in all these women, I see resilience and the desire to keep going forward. The willingness to carry on with life despite what struggles and circumstances.

Rizq comes from Allah. The one source of sustenance. Resilience comes from the tests he blesses us with even if we dispise such tests. Gratitude comes from accepting your rizq and believing in your resilience.

Love to all.