Uncommon Ground Collective

I’ve been sitting with something lately that I don’t really know how to fully put into words.

I’m watching my childhood show up again, but this time it’s my daughter living it.

She’s in fourth grade, turning 11 soon, and I keep noticing how much of this season is about friendship, loyalty, wanting to belong, and not really knowing yet how to tell the difference between something that feels good and something that might not be good for you.

And it’s messing with me in a quiet way.

Because I can feel myself wanting to step in and fix it. To protect her from every mistake I already know the outcome of. To keep her from getting hurt the way I got hurt when I was her age.

But then I also remember what it felt like being the kid in my own house.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have parents who cared. It’s that I didn’t feel like I had space to really talk. Like emotions had to be managed, not expressed. Like questions weren’t always welcome.

And I think that shaped me more than I realized at the time.

Because when you don’t feel like you can open up, you don’t really process things with the people who are supposed to guide you. You just figure it out elsewhere. Sometimes with the wrong people. Sometimes in the wrong ways. And sometimes you don’t realize what it cost you until later.

So now I’m here, watching my daughter, and it feels like I’m standing in the middle of two versions of myself.
The part of me that wants to grab her hand and say “don’t go that way, I already know how this ends.”

And the part of me that knows I can’t recreate the same kind of restriction I grew up in, because that’s what made me shut things down and make choices without guidance when I actually needed it most.

And I think what’s hardest is realizing I don’t get to fully protect her from it.

I can guide her. I can talk to her. I can stay close. But I can’t live the lessons for her.

And I don’t know, I think part of me is still learning how to sit in that without panic.

I didn’t expect this at all.

Someone posted about feeling lonely after leaving religion, and I commented without really thinking much of it.

Next thing I know, a bunch of people related to it.

And it honestly made me stop for a second.

Because reading through everything, it’s really heavy.

So many people feel lost after leaving something that used to be their whole life.

Not just confused, but alone.

And I get that.

I grew up Muslim. Religion wasn’t just a belief, it was everything. Your identity, your structure, your sense of right and wrong.

So when there’s hurt, or things don’t make sense, or you walk away, it’s not just “leaving religion.”

It feels like losing a part of yourself.

For me, I had to separate everything I experienced from who God actually is.

And I know this might not land the same for everyone, but I found something different in Jesus.

Not religion. Not rules.

Just Him.

And I think that’s what I’m realizing right now.

A lot of people aren’t just “walking away.”

They’re trying to make sense of pain, disappointment, and things that never sat right in the first place.

If that’s you, you’re not crazy.

And you’re definitely not the only one.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this as I move through grad school and listen to different perspectives from other therapists.

There’s this idea that “good counselors don’t talk about themselves,” especially on social media. And I understand the intention behind that. Boundaries matter, and this work isn’t about us.

But I’m starting to see it differently.

I think there’s a difference between centering yourself, and sharing from lived experience with intention.

For me, writing and sharing parts of my journey has been healing. But what’s made me pause and really reflect are the messages and comments I receive from people saying, “I thought I was the only one,” or “thank you for putting this into words.”

That’s when it clicks for me.

It reminds me that maybe this isn’t oversharing.

Maybe it’s creating space.

Space for people to feel seen, understood, and a little less alone.

I still think about boundaries, and I’m learning as I go.

But I’m realizing that thoughtful, grounded transparency can be a strength in this field.

So I’m going to keep sharing. Not because I have it all figured out, but because if it helps even one person feel understood, then it’s worth it.

Pictured: Enoki beef rolls with bok choy. Because it’s always the most random, quiet moments like cooking where my mind slows down enough for the deeper thoughts to come through. 🙏🏼

I recently created a guided journal focused on breaking generational patterns and reflecting on inherited beliefs. This topic has been part of my own healing journey, especially thinking about culture, family expectations, and growth. If this is something you're exploring too, I put the journal together as a reflection tool.

Yesterday, I shared a little hint… and today I’m so excited (and nervous) to share this!

I’ve been on a journey with Jesus, and I wanted to create something that reflects my faith, hope, and love. 💛

I made a few inspirational t-shirts that remind us to keep faith in Him, even when life feels heavy.

You can check them out here: https://uncommon-ground-collective.printify.me� 🙏

Every purchase helps support my family and this little dream. Thank you for your love and encouragement!

When I first became a Christian, I thought baptism was just one thing, publicly going under water. Honestly, that terrified me. I don’t like being the center of attention, and I always thought baptism should be intimate, between me and God. But I also wanted to give myself fully to Him, so I wondered, “Do I really have to do this in front of everyone?”

A few days ago, a friend opened my eyes to something I hadn’t realized before: water baptism isn’t the only baptism. She encouraged me to read the Book of Acts, and what I found blew my mind. There are two types of baptisms: the outward, public declaration of faith in water (Acts 8:36–38), and the inward baptism by the Holy Spirit, which empowers you to live boldly in your faith and fully walk in what God has called you to (Acts 1:5, 1:8, 2:4).

This was a revelation for me. I realized why I’ve never felt completely satisfied with just water baptism (I’ve done it twice) and why I’ve been wanting more. God is nudging me toward the Holy Spirit baptism. The fire, the empowerment, the boldness that becomes a part of you, enabling you to truly walk in faith, not just declare it. I don’t know exactly what that will look like for me yet, but understanding that there’s more than one baptism was confirmation that my desire for more is part of God’s plan.

It reminded me of a scene in The Chosen. The leaders confront Jesus, trying to intimidate Him, and He responds fearlessly: “I AM the Law of Moses.” In the show, it’s dramatized, but it perfectly illustrates the kind of bold, unapologetic faith the Holy Spirit baptism empowers. He didn’t stay small, safe, or comfortable, and neither are we called to.

We’re often afraid of standing out, of looking different, because even today, just like in Jesus’ time, people are persecuted for their faith. But I’m learning that God is calling us to step into boldness, to not settle for surface-level faith, and to allow His Spirit to empower us.

God is stretching me, preparing me, and guiding me toward something bigger than I can imagine. Usually, I need to know exactly what’s coming next and have a plan for it, but right now, I have no idea, and yet I feel at peace. That's all Him. ✝️

Somebody flipped me off this morning. 🐦‍⬛

We had just dropped the kids off at school, and as I turned into our apartment complex with my four year old in the backseat, a woman who looked about my age looked right at me and flipped me off. It's been 18 years (👵🏽) since I got my high school diploma, and somehow middle fingers are still flying.

What made it so wild was the contrast. Just last night, I was at a women’s event hearing powerful testimonies about encouragement, community, and waiting on God’s timing. I left with goosebumps and a full heart.

Back in California, I had real community through MomCo and women’s Bible studies. I did not think I needed that before, but once I had it, I realized how much I craved it again after moving here. The church we initially chose met my introverted comfort zone, but it did not give me community. God kept tugging at me, pointing me toward this other church. Last night confirmed why. I talked, connected, laughed, and even exchanged numbers. It felt like answered prayer.

I have also been questioning if I am oversharing my journey. But last night’s message, having the courage to encourage, confirmed that sharing the real parts of life is exactly what Jesus wants me to do.

So this morning’s flip off was such a contrast. The old me would have returned the bird. But God has changed my heart. And with my son watching, I chose grace.

If you are a parent or a teen reading this, remember: moments like these are lessons. We cannot control how others act, but we can control how we respond. Our kids learn more from our reactions than our words. Grace over impulse, every time. 🙏🏼

This past weekend, we had the wonderful opportunity to volunteer at Feeding Phoenix Farms Inc., a nonprofit that does amazing work feeding children and the community. I noticed how much our kids are often consumed with technology, so we’ve been trying different ways to engage them by playing Monopoly together, family Switch time, watching movies, drawing, coloring, and other activities at home. Going out can be tricky with safety concerns in the neighborhood, cold weather, and the ongoing flu season, so finding creative ways to connect has been important.

Volunteering at the farm felt like the perfect way to give them a new perspective. They got to experience what it’s like to work with their hands, appreciate what they have, and see the beauty of a simpler way of life. My oldest daughter, who is 10, even said she’s “not meant for this type of life” because she doesn’t like getting dirty. She’s an Orange County, California girl, so I can see where that comes from 😂, but I thought it was important for her to experience life outside of our microwave society.

The owner graciously gave us a tour of the farm, showing all the different trees they grow, letting the kids taste pomegranates and figs (which they loved!), and sharing their incredible plans to feed children in need.

It was a meaningful experience for our family, and we highly recommend it for anyone looking to give their children a hands-on learning opportunity. We can’t wait to go back next month so the kids can plant seeds and harvest them later. It’s an experience that truly stays with you.

My mom told me about a story that went viral recently. A woman pretending to have a 2 month old baby who needed formula called dozens of churches. Most said no or told her to wait. Only a few places, including a mosque, offered help immediately.

It makes me pause and ask: if we say we are followers of Jesus, and we know that Jesus lived a life of love, compassion, and selflessness, how are we able to turn someone away, even if the need isn’t real? How did rules, bureaucracy, or fear come before love for Christ and love for people?

I saw that some pastors were upset with the woman for pretending, but that misses the point. The point isn’t about the experiment itself; the point is how we respond when someone is in need. Our faith should show up in action, not just in words or policies.

I follow Jesus, and I’ve seen faith in action. My church is housing and feeding those in need, simply being present and offering help. That’s what it looks like to live love in a real way.

Stories like this make me reflect: how do we make sure our compassion comes first? How do we respond immediately, without judgment, without bureaucracy, and without dismissing someone’s struggle?

I’d love to hear your thoughts: how do you make sure your faith translates into action, and not just rules?

Last week, my husband came home with some paperwork in his hand and set it on the kitchen counter. Naturally, I looked at it, thinking it was just mail, and that’s when I saw it: Staff of the Month.

He didn’t say a word about it. It was just a regular day for him. I wasn’t surprised at all, because anyone who knows him knows that he doesn’t do the work he does for recognition; he does it because that’s who he truly is. He wants the best for everyone around him.

Reading the little note from his students recognizing him brought me to ugly crying tears. 💛 He also received a Staff of the Month lanyard, and when I asked him to wear it, he said no and that he wanted me to have it. And with the gift card that came with it, he bought the kids dinner as a treat, when he could have done something for himself.

When I asked him why he wasn’t more excited, he said he was happy, but he didn’t do it for the recognition. I’m different though. 🙃 I wanted to take a moment to celebrate him, to share how proud I am of the way he lives out his calling every day. Moments like this remind me that he was made for this and that his heart for students and others is something truly special.

I’m also so grateful that we get to do this calling together through Uncommon Ground Collective. He was made for this, apparently, and there’s nobody else I would want to be doing it with.

Thank you all for your support, and for his amazing students who make his days brighter every day. He truly loves them, and it shows in everything he does.