Maybe It’s Not You, Maybe It’s Your Circle

There comes a point in life when we need to stop questioning ourselves every time we feel uncomfortable around certain people. We wonder whether we are too sensitive, too quiet, too emotional, or simply too different. We question why we feel drained after certain conversations, why we hesitate before speaking our minds, and why being around some people feels more exhausting than spending time alone. We begin to believe that something must be wrong with us. But what if the problem is not always within us? What if, sometimes, the people around us are simply not the right people for us?

Sometimes it's not social anxiety. Sometimes the people around you just suck.

It may sound blunt, but there is a truth in that statement that many of us need to hear. Not every uncomfortable feeling is a personal weakness. Not every moment of silence means we lack confidence. Not every decision to withdraw means we are afraid of people. Sometimes, our discomfort is a response to an environment where we do not feel respected, valued, accepted, or emotionally safe.

I have come to realize that the company we keep can influence how we see ourselves. When we are surrounded by people who encourage us, appreciate our presence, and allow us to be ourselves, we naturally feel more comfortable expressing who we are. We laugh more freely, speak more confidently, and feel less pressure to prove our worth. We do not have to rehearse every sentence in our heads or worry about whether our words will be misunderstood.

But place us in an environment filled with judgment, negativity, unnecessary competition, gossip, or subtle put downs, and even the most confident person can begin to question themselves. We become more cautious. We think twice before speaking. We start measuring our words and adjusting our behaviour just to avoid upsetting someone. Slowly, without even realizing it, we begin shrinking ourselves to fit into spaces that were never meant to make us feel small.

And that is a painful way to live.

I believe there is a difference between working on ourselves and constantly blaming ourselves for how other people treat us. Personal growth is important. We should always be willing to reflect on our behaviour, acknowledge our shortcomings, and learn from our experiences. I know that I am not perfect, and I do not expect myself or anyone else to be. We all have things to work on.

However, self awareness should never become an excuse to tolerate disrespect. Being mature does not mean accepting every hurtful comment with a smile. Being kind does not mean allowing people to take advantage of our kindness. Being understanding does not mean making endless excuses for those who repeatedly make us feel inadequate.

There is a difference between someone who challenges us to become better and someone who constantly makes us feel that we are never good enough.

The first encourages growth. The second slowly erodes our confidence.

Sometimes, we spend so much time trying to understand other people's behaviour that we forget to pay attention to how their behaviour affects us. We make excuses for their negativity because perhaps they are having a difficult time. We overlook their disrespect because we do not want to appear difficult. We remain silent because we want to keep the peace. We tell ourselves that perhaps we are overreacting, that perhaps we should be more patient, or that perhaps we simply need to toughen up.

But how many times must we dismiss our own feelings before we realize that we deserve better?

I have learned that protecting our peace sometimes requires us to accept uncomfortable truths. Not everyone who enters our lives is meant to stay. Not everyone who smiles at us genuinely wishes us well. Not everyone who has access to us deserves access to our hearts, our energy, or our personal struggles.

And that is okay.

We do not need to turn every disappointment into a confrontation. We do not need to explain ourselves to everyone who misunderstands us. We do not need to prove our intentions to people who have already decided to see the worst in us. Sometimes, the most powerful thing we can do is quietly step back, observe the situation for what it is, and choose not to participate in the negativity.

Distance is not always an act of anger. Sometimes, it is an act of self respect.

I also believe that there is something beautiful about reaching a stage in life when we no longer feel the need to be liked by everyone. It is freeing to understand that we can be good people and still not be everyone's cup of tea. We can have a good heart and still disappoint someone. We can be honest, caring, and sincere, yet still be misunderstood by people who do not know how to appreciate those qualities.

We cannot control how others perceive us, but we can choose how much power we give their opinions over our lives.

For me, peace has become far more valuable than approval. I would rather spend time with a handful of genuine people who accept me as I am than surround myself with a crowd that makes me question my worth. I would rather have meaningful conversations than engage in endless gossip. I would rather be alone and feel at peace than be surrounded by people and feel lonely.

Because loneliness is not always about having nobody around us. Sometimes, it is about being in a room full of people and feeling that we cannot truly be ourselves.

The right people will not make us feel that we have to earn our place in their lives every single day. They will not use our vulnerabilities against us or make us regret opening our hearts. They will respect our boundaries, celebrate our growth, and correct us with kindness when we need it. They will understand that being human means having good days and bad days, strengths and weaknesses, confidence and insecurities.

Most importantly, they will allow us to be ourselves without making us feel that we need to apologize for who we are.

Of course, not every uncomfortable situation means the people around us are at fault. Sometimes, our fears, past experiences, and insecurities do influence how we interact with others. It is important to recognize when we need to heal, grow, or seek support. But we must also be brave enough to recognize when an environment is genuinely unhealthy for us. Both things can be true. We can have our own work to do while acknowledging that certain people are not good for our well being.

The key is learning the difference.

So, the next time you find yourself feeling anxious, withdrawn, or emotionally exhausted around certain people, pause before labelling yourself as the problem. Ask yourself whether you feel this way everywhere or only around particular individuals. Ask whether you are afraid of being judged because of your own insecurities or because people have repeatedly given you reasons to feel unsafe expressing yourself.

Your answers may reveal something important.

Perhaps you do need to build your confidence. Perhaps you need to work through old wounds. Or perhaps you simply need to spend less time with people who drain your energy and more time with those who bring out the best in you.

Whatever the answer may be, remember that you are allowed to choose the kind of energy you welcome into your life.

Life is already challenging enough without surrounding ourselves with people who make it unnecessarily harder. As we grow older, I believe we become more protective of our time, our emotional well being, and the relationships we choose to nurture. We begin to understand that peace is not something we should have to sacrifice just to belong.

We deserve friendships that feel safe, conversations that feel genuine, and relationships that allow us to grow without losing ourselves in the process.

And if stepping away from certain people gives us the space to breathe, heal, and rediscover our confidence, then perhaps walking away is not a sign that we have failed socially. Perhaps it is a sign that we are finally learning to honour ourselves.

At the end of the day, not every problem requires us to change who we are. Sometimes, we simply need to change who we allow into our lives.

So, before you convince yourself that you are too sensitive, too quiet, too awkward, or too difficult to understand, take a closer look at the people around you. Maybe you are not broken. Maybe you are just tired of being in places where your heart does not feel at home.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing a little more peace, a little less drama, and people who make life feel lighter rather than heavier.

Because the goal is not to become someone who can tolerate everyone. The goal is to become someone who knows what is healthy for them, has the courage to walk away from what is not, and understands that protecting their peace is not selfish.

Sometimes, the problem is not who we are.

Sometimes, it is simply who we are surrounded by.

Movie Recommendation: Unfaithful (2002)

 

Some movies are great to watch, but others stay with you long after they end, making you think about love, relationships, and how one decision can change everything.

Unfaithful (2002) is one of those films for me. It is sensual, suspenseful, emotionally complicated, and a little unsettling in the way it explores desire, temptation, and the consequences of crossing a line.

First of all, can we talk about Richard Gere? That man is ridiculously handsome. Honestly, unfairly handsome. Even when his character is caught in a storm of emotions, there is something about his presence that makes it difficult to look away.

But beyond the attraction, what makes this movie worth watching is how it explores the fragile balance between love, loyalty, passion, and the choices that can change everything.

Directed by Adrian Lyne, Unfaithful follows Connie Sumner, played brilliantly by Diane Lane, a married woman living what appears to be a comfortable and settled life with her husband, Edward Sumner, played by Richard Gere, and their young son. From the outside, their life seems secure. They have a home, a family, and the kind of stability many people spend years building. Yet, somewhere along the way, routine has become part of their relationship, and perhaps Connie has lost touch with a part of herself she does not even realize she misses.

An unexpected encounter with a younger man named Paul Martel, played by Olivier Martinez, changes everything. There is an immediate attraction, followed by a series of decisions that gradually pull Connie into an affair. And Olivier Martinez? That man is temptation wrapped in a scarf. There is an effortless charm about him that makes it easy to understand how Connie becomes caught up in the excitement of something new and forbidden.

What I find particularly interesting about this movie is that it does not simply present infidelity as a straightforward story of right and wrong. Instead, it invites us to look at the emotions and circumstances that can lead someone to make choices they might never have imagined making. That does not mean the choices are justified, but it does make the characters feel human. Sometimes, people do not set out to destroy what they have. Sometimes, they make one impulsive decision, then another, until they find themselves somewhere they never intended to be.

Diane Lane's performance is, without a doubt, one of the strongest reasons to watch this film. She captures Connie's emotions with such vulnerability that you can almost feel her internal struggle. There is excitement, desire, guilt, confusion, and eventually, fear. Her expressions often say more than words ever could. I particularly appreciate how she portrays the contradiction of being drawn towards something that feels thrilling in the moment while knowing, somewhere deep down, that there may be a terrible price to pay.

Richard Gere also deserves recognition for the emotional depth he brings to Edward. Beneath his composed exterior is a husband whose love, trust, and sense of security are slowly being threatened. Watching the situation unfold makes you consider how little we sometimes know about what another person is feeling. People can share a home and a life while quietly drifting apart emotionally. And when trust is broken, the damage can reach far beyond the original act of betrayal.

For me, the most compelling aspect of Unfaithful is the way it examines desire. Attraction can be powerful, and the excitement of being noticed, wanted, or understood by someone new can be intoxicating. But feelings are not always reliable guides for the decisions we make. There is a difference between experiencing an emotion and choosing to act on it. That distinction matters, especially when our decisions affect people who have placed their trust in us.

The film also reminds us that love is not always simple. A relationship can contain genuine affection and still have its weaknesses. Routine, unmet emotional needs, poor communication, and the assumption that everything will somehow remain the same can create distance between two people. Perhaps one of the most important lessons here is that relationships require honesty, attention, and a willingness to address what is missing before silence and dissatisfaction turn into something more damaging.

And then there is that final scene. Without giving too much away, it is haunting precisely because it leaves you sitting with the weight of everything that has happened. It makes you think about consequences, forgiveness, responsibility, and how quickly life can change when emotions take control. I found myself reflecting on how one decision can create a chain of events that cannot simply be undone.

Ultimately, I would recommend Unfaithful to anyone who enjoys psychological thrillers with strong performances, complicated characters, and a storyline that goes beyond physical attraction. Yes, it is sensual and intense, and the chemistry between the characters is undeniable. But beneath all that is a much deeper exploration of marriage, temptation, trust, and human vulnerability.

For me, this is the kind of movie that reminds us that we are all human, with emotions that can sometimes surprise even ourselves. What matters is recognizing that our choices carry weight, and that the pursuit of a moment of excitement can sometimes put the things we value most at risk.

Watch it for the performances, the tension, and yes, Richard Gere's undeniable charm. Stay for the emotional complexity, the moral questions, and the ending that will leave you thinking.

Because sometimes, the most dangerous thing is not falling in love. It is forgetting that every choice we make can change the lives of the people we love.

My verdict: Sensual, gripping, emotionally layered, and haunting. Unfaithful is a reminder that desire may be impulsive, but consequences are rarely so easy to escape.

What I Have Learned So Far in 2026, Intentionally or Accidentally

If there is one thing 2026 has taught me so far, it is that life has a rather interesting way of teaching us lessons. Sometimes, we sit down, reflect, pray, read, and consciously try to become better versions of ourselves. Other times, life simply throws something at us, leaves us standing there wondering what the hell just happened, and expects us to figure out the lesson ourselves.

And honestly, some of the lessons I have learned this year were not exactly the ones I signed up for.

As I sit here reflecting on the year so far, I realize that growth is not always pretty. It is not always peaceful, inspiring, or accompanied by some beautiful background music that makes everything feel meaningful. Sometimes, growth looks like crying when nobody is watching. Sometimes, it is staring at your phone, overthinking a conversation, questioning yourself, or trying to make sense of feelings you cannot quite explain.

And sometimes, growth is simply waking up the next morning, taking a deep breath, and deciding to try again.

One of the biggest things I have learned is that happiness can be frightening when you have spent too much time being unhappy.

You would think that after going through difficult seasons, finally experiencing happiness would feel like a huge sigh of relief. And it does. But there is another side to it that people do not talk about enough.

Sometimes, when things finally start falling into place, you become afraid of losing them. You begin wondering when the other shoe will drop. You start preparing yourself for disappointment even when there is absolutely no reason to believe disappointment is coming.

It is a strange thing to finally have something you prayed for and still find yourself afraid.

But I am learning that I cannot keep allowing the possibility of tomorrow's pain to rob me of today's happiness. I cannot spend my life anticipating heartbreak and call it being prepared. Sometimes, I need to trust that I am allowed to enjoy the good things happening in my life without constantly looking over my shoulder.

Happiness is not a guarantee that nothing bad will ever happen again. It is an invitation to appreciate what is good while it is here.

And I am learning to accept that invitation.

I have also learned that healing does not mean forgetting.

There are people who have left marks on our hearts that time does not simply erase. Some gave us beautiful memories. Some taught us painful lessons. Some loved us in ways we will always appreciate, while others showed us exactly what we should never accept again.

And sometimes, more than one of those things can be true about the same person.

I used to think that moving forward meant leaving everything behind. Now, I am beginning to understand that we can move forward without pretending our past never mattered.

We can be grateful for what someone once meant to us without needing them to remain part of our future. We can remember the love without having to return to the circumstances surrounding it. We can acknowledge that something was beautiful and still accept that its chapter has ended.

The heart is capable of holding memories and making room for new beginnings. One does not have to cancel out the other.

Another lesson I am learning is that not everything needs to be figured out immediately.

I will be the first to admit that I can overthink. I analyze conversations, replay situations, question my decisions, and sometimes turn a relatively simple matter into an entire courtroom drama inside my head.

My mind can be a very busy place. Sometimes, I wish I could just tell it to sit down, shut up, and have a cup of tea.

But seriously, I am learning that uncertainty is part of being human. Not every question has an immediate answer. Not every situation needs a decision today. Not every feeling needs to be dissected until I have exhausted every possible explanation.

Sometimes, the healthiest thing I can do is pause, breathe, pray, and allow life to unfold.

I do not need to have all the answers to be moving in the right direction. I do not need to understand every twist and turn before I can take the next step.

And perhaps faith is partly about learning to walk even when I cannot see the entire staircase.

Speaking of faith, this year has also reminded me that my relationship with God is not supposed to be built entirely on fear.

I can be sincere in my desire to do what is right and still make mistakes. I can have questions, struggle with my thoughts, and experience moments of uncertainty without assuming that I have somehow failed God.

Faith is not about becoming a person who never struggles. It is about continuing to turn towards God even when I do.

I am learning that grace matters. That intention matters. That a heart genuinely trying to grow, love, forgive, and do better is not a heart that should spend every waking moment punishing itself for being imperfect.

I want to grow in my faith because I love God, not because I am terrified of getting everything wrong.

There is a difference, and I am slowly learning to recognize it.

I have learned that protecting my peace is not selfish.

For far too long, many of us have been taught that being a good person means being endlessly available, endlessly patient, and endlessly understanding. We make excuses for people, accommodate their behaviour, swallow our feelings, and convince ourselves that keeping everyone else happy is somehow our responsibility.

But kindness without boundaries can become exhaustion.

Being compassionate does not mean allowing people to walk all over us. Forgiveness does not mean giving everyone unlimited access to our lives. Understanding someone else's struggles does not mean we must sacrifice our own well being to accommodate them.

I can love people and still say no. I can wish someone well and still choose distance. I can forgive someone without pretending that what happened did not hurt me.

And I can be a good person without being everyone's favourite person.

That last part is particularly important because, let's be honest, some people will misunderstand you no matter how carefully you explain yourself. You could practically prepare a PowerPoint presentation explaining your intentions, and someone would still interpret slide three differently.

At some point, you have to stop exhausting yourself trying to control how everyone sees you.

Know your heart. Check your intentions. Take responsibility when you are wrong. Make amends when necessary. Then allow yourself to move on.

Family has also reminded me of the importance of appreciating the ordinary moments.

A meal with my parents. A simple breakfast together. An afternoon spent talking about nothing particularly important. A little shopping, a shared laugh, or simply being able to sit together and enjoy each other's company.

These moments may not look extraordinary to anyone else, but they are the very things that make life meaningful.

We spend so much time waiting for the big occasions that we sometimes forget to appreciate the little ones. We wait for holidays, celebrations, milestones, and special announcements, forgetting that ordinary days are quietly becoming memories too.

One day, we may look back and realize that the moments we barely thought about were the moments we would give anything to experience again.

So I want to be more present. I want to put my phone down sometimes. I want to listen more carefully, laugh more freely, and stop treating ordinary blessings as though they are guaranteed.

Because they are not.

And if 2026 has taught me anything, it is that time is precious, relationships matter, and love is often expressed in the simplest ways.

I have also learned that being vulnerable is not the same as being weak.

I am someone who feels things deeply. When I care, I care wholeheartedly. When something hurts, it hurts. When I am happy, I can be ridiculously happy. And when something matters to me, I have never been particularly good at pretending that it doesn't.

For a long time, I think many of us have mistaken emotional strength for the ability to remain unaffected by life.

But perhaps strength is not about feeling less. Perhaps it is about having the courage to feel everything without allowing those feelings to destroy who we are.

It takes courage to admit that we are scared. It takes courage to say that we need reassurance. It takes courage to love again after disappointment, trust again after uncertainty, and allow ourselves to hope when experience has given us reasons to be cautious.

I would rather be someone who loves sincerely than someone who spends a lifetime pretending not to care.

Of course, I am still learning how to balance my heart with my head. I am still learning when to speak, when to listen, when to let go, and when to stop giving a situation more mental energy than it deserves.

I am a work in progress. Some days, a very obvious work in progress.

But at least I am aware of it, and awareness is a pretty good place to start.

Perhaps the most important lesson of all is that I do not have to become a completely different person to become a better one.

I do not need to lose my humour, my opinions, my sensitivity, or the slightly unhinged side of my personality that makes me who I am. I do not need to become quieter, less expressive, or less passionate just because someone somewhere might find me too much.

What I need is to become more intentional about where I direct my energy, how I respond to challenges, and what I allow to occupy my heart and mind.

I want to be kinder without being a pushover. Stronger without becoming hard. More forgiving without abandoning my boundaries. More faithful without being consumed by fear. More loving without forgetting to love myself.

I want to learn from my mistakes without turning them into permanent evidence against myself.

And I want to remember that personal growth is not a competition. There is no prize for becoming emotionally mature before everyone else, and there is certainly no deadline by which I must have my entire life figured out.

Some lessons take years. Some take a single conversation. Some require us to experience the same situation several times before we finally understand what life has been trying to tell us.

And some lessons, I suspect, will require a little more patience, prayer, and perhaps another cup of tea.

So, here we are. We have only two and a half more months until the end of 2026.

Two and a half months.

It feels almost ridiculous to think about how quickly this year has passed. Yet, when I look back, I realize just how much can happen in a single year. How much we can feel, how much we can lose, how much we can discover, and how much we can change without even realizing it is happening.

There are still things I want to accomplish. There are still questions I want answered, habits I want to improve, fears I want to overcome, and parts of myself I want to understand better.

But I am no longer convinced that I need to finish this year with everything perfectly resolved.

Perhaps I simply need to finish it a little wiser, a little calmer, a little more grateful, and a little more at peace with myself.

I want to enter the final weeks of 2026 with my eyes open to the blessings I already have, my heart open to the possibilities still ahead, and enough courage to trust that I can handle whatever comes next.

Because life will continue to happen. Plans will change. People will surprise us. Some things will work out beautifully, while others will leave us scratching our heads and asking God what exactly He was thinking.

And we will learn.

Intentionally or accidentally, we will keep learning.

So, if I had to sum up what 2026 has taught me so far, it would be this: I cannot control everything that happens to me, but I can choose how I grow through it. I cannot guarantee that my heart will never hurt again, but I can refuse to let fear prevent me from loving. I cannot make every decision perfectly, but I can learn to give myself grace when I get things wrong.

Most importantly, I can stop waiting for life to become perfect before I allow myself to be happy.

I have survived difficult days. I have questioned myself. I have learned, unlearned, and relearned things I thought I already understood. I have laughed, cried, prayed, worried, loved, and probably overthought a few things that did not deserve quite so much attention.

But I am still here.

Still learning. Still growing. Still hoping. Still loving.

And honestly, that is something worth being grateful for.

Here is to the remaining two and a half months of 2026. May they bring us more reasons to smile, more courage to let go of what no longer serves us, more wisdom to recognize what truly matters, and more moments that remind us how beautiful life can be.

We may not have everything figured out by 31 December.

But hopefully, we will understand ourselves a little better than we did when the year began.

And perhaps that, in itself, is a pretty wonderful way to end the year.

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time: Belonging to God, Instruments of His Love

What does it truly mean to belong to God? As I reflect on this Sunday’s readings, I find myself thinking about how easily we can become caught up in the demands of everyday life that we sometimes forget what our faith is really asking of us. We go about our routines, fulfil our responsibilities, care for the people we love, and try our best to navigate the challenges life throws at us. But in the midst of everything, are we allowing God to guide us? Are we living our faith through our actions? And are we giving God what truly belongs to Him?

This Sunday’s readings speak to me because they remind me that God can work through anyone, that faith must be more than just words, and that no matter how much the world demands of us, our hearts ultimately belong to Him.

The first reading from Isaiah 45:1, 4 to 6 reminds me that God’s plans are not always limited by our understanding of who is worthy or capable of serving Him. God chose Cyrus, a foreign king who did not even know Him, to fulfil His purpose for His chosen people. What strikes me is that God could work through someone who did not know Him personally. Cyrus might not have understood the bigger picture, but God knew what He was doing.

This makes me reflect on how often we underestimate what God can accomplish through ordinary people. Sometimes, we assume that to do God's work, we must be exceptionally holy, knowledgeable about Scripture, or able to do something extraordinary. We may think that our imperfections make us unsuitable, or that our past experiences somehow disqualify us from being useful to Him.

But the story of Cyrus reminds me that God sees possibilities where we may see limitations. He can work through people we least expect, including those who may not share our beliefs or see the world as we do. His plans are bigger than our personal expectations, and His ways are not always the ways we would choose.

Personally, I find comfort in this because I know I am not perfect. I have my own weaknesses, struggles, and lessons that life has taught me. There are times when I wish I had handled certain situations differently or responded with greater patience and understanding. Yet, I believe that God can still use my experiences, including the difficult ones, to help me understand others better.

Sometimes, the very experiences that leave us hurting can teach us compassion. The disappointments we face can make us more sensitive to someone else's pain. The challenges we overcome can give us the ability to encourage someone who is struggling to find their own strength.

Perhaps being an instrument of God's love is not about having a perfect life. Perhaps it is about allowing Him to use the life we have lived, with all its imperfections, to bring comfort, encouragement, and hope to others.

The reading also reminds me that God is the one true Lord. In a world where we often want to control outcomes and understand every reason behind what happens, this is an invitation to trust Him, even when we cannot see the bigger picture. We may not always understand why certain doors close, why some people enter our lives, or why we have to go through particular experiences. But we can continue to place our trust in Him and remain open to what He may be asking of us.

The second reading from 1 Thessalonians 1:1 to 5 brings the message closer to home by reminding us that faith, love, and hope must be visible in the way we live.

St Paul speaks of the Thessalonians' faith in action, their work for love, and their perseverance through hope in Jesus Christ. I find these words especially meaningful because they remind me that faith is not simply something we profess. It is something we practice, especially when life is not going according to plan.

It is easy to talk about love when we feel loved. It is easy to speak about forgiveness when we have not been deeply hurt. It is easy to remain hopeful when everything seems to be working in our favour. But what happens when we are disappointed, misunderstood, or faced with situations that test our patience? What happens when doing the right thing is not the easiest option?

That is when our faith is truly challenged.

For me, living out my faith means trying to remain kind even when life is difficult, choosing understanding instead of rushing to judge, and remembering that everyone is carrying struggles that may not be visible to the rest of the world. It means recognizing that people do not always need us to solve their problems. Sometimes, they simply need someone willing to listen without judging them, to offer encouragement without expecting anything in return, or to stand beside them when they feel alone.

Of course, I do not always get everything right. I have moments when I feel tired, disappointed, or frustrated. I have moments when I need to remind myself to pause, pray, and look at a situation with a little more patience. But perhaps that is part of the journey of faith. We are not expected to become perfect overnight. We are called to keep growing, keep learning, and keep allowing God to shape our hearts.

I also love how St Paul reminds the Thessalonians that the Good News came not only in words, but through the power of the Holy Spirit and with conviction. To me, this is a reminder that the Gospel should make a difference in how we live. People may not remember every Bible verse we quote, but they may remember how we treated them when they were struggling. They may remember the kindness we showed when they least expected it, or the patience we extended when they made mistakes.

Our actions can become a living witness to God's love.

And perhaps this is where our mission begins. We do not have to stand before a crowd or travel to a distant country to share the Good News. We can begin at home, at work, within our families, and among the people we encounter every day. Every interaction gives us an opportunity to reflect something of Christ through our words and actions.

Then we come to the Gospel of Matthew 22:15 to 21, where Jesus tells the Pharisees and the Herodians, "Give back to Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God."

The question put to Jesus was intended to trap Him. Yet, His response was both wise and profound. He acknowledged their earthly obligations while directing their attention towards a much deeper truth. There are responsibilities we must fulfil in this world, but there is also something that belongs to God that we must never neglect.

When I reflect on this Gospel, I think about how much of our lives is occupied by earthly responsibilities. We work, pay our bills, care for our families, fulfil our commitments, and try to meet the expectations placed upon us. These responsibilities matter. Being people of faith does not mean neglecting our duties or withdrawing from the world. Rather, it means fulfilling our responsibilities with honesty, integrity, and consideration for others.

But the question that stays with me is this: In giving so much of ourselves to the demands of the world, have we forgotten to give ourselves to God?

We can become so preoccupied with achieving more, earning more, pleasing others, and proving ourselves that our relationship with God gradually takes a back seat. We may still attend Mass and say our prayers, but are we allowing our faith to influence our choices? Are we making time to listen to God, or are we always too busy talking, worrying, and trying to work everything out on our own?

Jesus' words remind me that belonging to God is more than a declaration of faith. It is about surrendering our hearts to Him and allowing Him to guide the way we live.

The coin carried Caesar's image and inscription. But we, as human beings created in the image of God, are called to reflect something of His goodness in our lives. Our time, talents, words, and actions can all become offerings to Him. We belong to God, and this should influence how we treat others, how we conduct ourselves, and how we respond to the challenges we encounter.

For me, this also means remembering that my worth is not determined by how much I accomplish, how many people appreciate me, or whether everyone understands my intentions. The world may measure success through achievements, possessions, recognition, and status. But God looks at the heart.

What matters is not simply what we have accumulated, but what we have done with what He has entrusted to us. Have we used our abilities to help others? Have we treated people fairly? Have we shown compassion when we had the opportunity? Have we remained faithful to our values even when nobody was watching?

These are the questions that matter far more than the approval of the world.

As we celebrate Mission Sunday, I am reminded that each of us has a mission, even if we do not always recognize it. God may not be asking us to do something grand or extraordinary. He may simply be asking us to be more patient with someone at home, more understanding towards a colleague, more generous with our time, or more willing to reach out to someone who is struggling.

We may never know how God uses these little acts of love. We may never see the full impact of a kind word or realize how much our presence means to another person. But we can trust that goodness is never wasted when it comes from a sincere heart.

My prayer this Sunday is that I will never become so caught up in the things of this world that I forget the God who gives my life its purpose. Lord, help me to fulfil my responsibilities with honesty while keeping my heart centered on You. Teach me to recognize the opportunities You place before me to serve others. When I feel discouraged, strengthen my faith. When I am hurt, help me find the grace to forgive. When I am tempted to judge, remind me that I, too, need Your mercy. And when I feel that I have little to offer, remind me that You can work through even the smallest act of love.

I know I will continue to make mistakes, but I hope I will always remain willing to learn, to grow, and to allow You to work through me.

At the end of the day, our mission is not about being seen as good people. It is about doing good because we believe in the God who first loved us. It is about living our faith sincerely, loving others genuinely, and remembering that everything we have is an opportunity to serve a purpose greater than ourselves.

We belong to God. May our lives reflect that truth, not only in the prayers we say on Sundays, but in the choices we make every single day.

Wishing everyone a blessed Mission Sunday. May we always be willing instruments of God's love, wherever He places us and whoever He places in our path. 

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Reflective question: What part of my life is God inviting me to offer more fully to Him, so that others may experience His love through me?

I think God is inviting me to offer Him my heart more fully, especially in the way I love, care for, and treat the people He has placed in my life. I have always believed that even the smallest acts of kindness can make a difference, and I hope that through my words, actions, and willingness to be there for others, I can become an instrument of His love.

At the same time, I know I am not perfect. I have my own struggles, disappointments, and moments when I feel tired or hurt. Sometimes, it is easier to give love when we feel appreciated, but God reminds me that genuine love is not always about what we receive in return. It is about choosing to do good even when nobody is watching, forgiving even when it is difficult, and showing compassion even when we have our own burdens to carry.

I believe God is also inviting me to surrender my worries and need to understand everything to Him, and to trust that He can use my life experiences, both the beautiful and the painful ones, for a greater purpose. 

Movie Recommendation: Thicker Than Water (2019)

 

I have just finished watching Thicker Than Water (2019), and I found myself thinking about it even after it ended. It is the kind of thriller that draws you in with its suspense while leaving you reflecting on the emotional struggles behind the story.

The story follows the Decker family as they struggle to cope with the devastating loss of their teenage son, Zach, who dies from an overdose. Losing a child is a heartbreak that is difficult to put into words, and watching the family try to find their way through such a tragedy was genuinely heartbreaking. Everyone deals with loss differently, and sometimes, the people who appear to be holding everything together are the ones quietly falling apart inside.

Paige, Zach's mother, particularly stood out to me. She is clearly struggling with her grief, yet she tries to carry on with life while dealing with a pain that has fundamentally changed her. There is something incredibly sad about watching someone lose their sense of purpose and happiness because of a loss they cannot undo. Her sadness, emotional detachment, and desperate need to feel connected to her son again felt painfully real to me. It reminded me that grief does not always look like uncontrollable crying or openly expressing sadness. Sometimes, it is found in the silence, the emptiness, and the desperate attempts to fill a void that nothing seems capable of replacing.

Things take an unsettling turn when the family brings Brandon, a tenant who bears an uncanny resemblance to Zach, into their lives. At first, I could understand why Paige was drawn to him. When someone we love is no longer with us, even the smallest reminder of that person can bring a sense of comfort. It may be a familiar expression, a voice, a photograph, or a memory that suddenly comes rushing back. For Paige, Brandon's resemblance to Zach offers something she desperately needs, even if it is only a temporary sense of closeness to the son she has lost.

However, what initially appears comforting gradually becomes disturbing. Brandon's behaviour begins to change, and the atmosphere becomes increasingly tense. As I watched, I found myself wondering how much Paige was willing to overlook because she wanted so badly to hold on to the comfort he seemed to bring her. It was unsettling to see how grief could make someone vulnerable to a situation that might otherwise raise immediate concerns.

This is where the movie works particularly well for me. It is not simply about a mysterious tenant and the danger he brings into a family's home. It also explores what can happen when emotional pain becomes so overwhelming that our need for comfort takes priority over our ability to recognize warning signs. Sometimes, when we are hurting, we want so badly to believe that something or someone can make things better that we fail to see the situation clearly.

Andrea Roth deserves special mention for her portrayal of Paige. I found her performance moving because she captured the different layers of a grieving mother so convincingly. Her moments of sadness, detachment, and renewed hope made Paige feel like a real person rather than just a character in a thriller. I could sense her internal struggle, and that made the more disturbing developments in the story even more effective.

Eric Osborne also did a good job portraying Brandon. He brought a mixture of charm and uneasiness to the character, making it difficult to know what to expect from him. There were moments when I felt uncomfortable watching him, and that uncertainty helped maintain the suspense. Just when I thought I understood where the story was heading, I found myself questioning what might happen next.

Of course, not every part of the plot was unpredictable. Some developments could be anticipated, particularly if you watch thrillers regularly. However, I do not think a movie needs to surprise us at every turn to leave a lasting impression. For me, the emotional story beneath the suspense was what made Thicker Than Water worth watching. The themes of grief, vulnerability, and the need for healing gave the movie more depth than a straightforward thriller.

One of the biggest takeaways for me is that healing from loss cannot simply come from finding a replacement for what we have lost. People we love are irreplaceable, and although memories can bring comfort, we also need to allow ourselves to acknowledge our pain and gradually learn how to live with it. There is no fixed timeline for grief, and everyone processes it differently. However, when pain remains unresolved, it can influence our decisions in ways we may not fully recognize.

I also believe this movie serves as a reminder to be compassionate towards people who are grieving. We may not always understand their behaviour, their silence, or the choices they make while trying to cope. Rather than judging them, we should remember that they may be struggling with emotions they do not know how to express. At the same time, compassion does not mean ignoring danger or allowing our longing for comfort to prevent us from seeing the truth.

All in all, Thicker Than Water (2019) is a worthwhile watch for anyone who enjoys psychological thrillers with an emotional dimension. While parts of the storyline may be predictable, the subject matter gives it a haunting quality that stays with you.

For me, this movie is a reminder that grief can leave us feeling lost, but healing begins when we allow ourselves to face our pain rather than desperately trying to fill the emptiness it leaves behind. Sometimes, what feels familiar and comforting is not necessarily what is good for us. Learning to recognize the difference can be difficult, especially when our hearts are hurting.

How Reducing Stress Builds Tenacity

 

Life has taught me that being strong does not mean never feeling tired, discouraged, overwhelmed, or defeated. It means finding the courage to keep going, even when things do not turn out the way I hoped they would. Over the years, I have come to understand that strength is not simply about how much hardship I can endure. It is also about how I choose to respond to life's challenges. Sometimes, the greatest strength lies in knowing when to pause, when to let go, and when to protect my peace.

When I reflect on the question, “How does reducing stress and negativity help you to increase your tenacity?”, I realize that it is something I have been learning through my own experiences. To me, tenacity is the determination to keep moving forward despite difficulties, setbacks, and disappointments. It is the willingness to get back up after falling, even when doing so takes more effort than anyone else realizes. I have learnt that to develop greater tenacity, I must take care of my mental and emotional wellbeing instead of focusing only on fulfilling my responsibilities.

Stress is an unavoidable part of life. There will always be responsibilities to fulfil, expectations to meet, decisions to make, and unexpected situations to manage. We cannot control everything that happens around us, but we can learn to manage how we respond. When stress becomes overwhelming, even simple tasks can feel difficult, and our ability to think clearly may suffer. We may become impatient, lose motivation, or struggle to see a way forward. This is why I believe managing stress is essential to building resilience. When my mind is calmer, I am better able to assess situations, make thoughtful decisions, and deal with challenges without feeling as though everything is happening at once.

I have also learnt that not every situation deserves my emotional energy. There will always be people with different opinions, expectations, and perspectives, and not everyone will understand my choices. In the past, it can be tempting to feel the need to explain myself or respond to every disagreement. However, I have come to realize that protecting my peace is sometimes more important than proving a point. I do not have to win every argument or convince everyone to see things my way. By choosing my battles wisely and setting healthy boundaries, I can focus on what truly matters rather than becoming emotionally drained by situations I cannot change.

This does not mean ignoring problems or pretending that hurtful experiences do not affect me. It means recognizing what is within my control and deciding where my energy is best spent. I want to use my time and strength to work towards my goals, nurture meaningful relationships, and continue growing as a person. Learning to let go of unnecessary emotional burdens allows me to approach life's genuine challenges with greater patience and determination.

Some of our greatest lessons also come from experiences we never asked for. Life does not always give us the answers we want, and there are moments when we must face disappointment, uncertainty, and circumstances beyond our control. My own struggles have taught me that tenacity is not about having an easy life. It is about learning how to continue when life becomes difficult, even when I cannot see the entire path ahead of me.

I have come to understand that our past experiences can either teach us valuable lessons or become burdens that hold us back. When we repeatedly revisit painful situations, we risk carrying yesterday's disappointments into today's opportunities. While we cannot change what has happened, we can choose how we move forward. I want to learn from my experiences, become wiser through them, and use those lessons to make better decisions in the future.

Of course, healing does not happen overnight. Some experiences take time to process, and some wounds are not easily forgotten. I believe we should give ourselves permission to feel our emotions rather than forcing ourselves to appear strong all the time. There is courage in admitting that something has hurt us, just as there is courage in deciding that we do not want that experience to determine our future. For me, developing tenacity means accepting that difficult moments are part of life while trusting that I can continue to grow beyond them.

Our mindset also plays an important role in how we respond to adversity. When I approach a situation with fear and self doubt, I may become so overwhelmed by the possibility of failure that I struggle to take the first step. However, when I approach it with a calmer and more constructive mindset, I can focus on finding solutions rather than becoming consumed by the problem.

Having a positive mindset does not mean ignoring reality or expecting everything to work out perfectly. To me, it means believing that even when things are difficult, there is something I can learn or do to improve the situation. Instead of asking myself why something has happened to me, I can ask what the experience can teach me. Instead of allowing one setback to convince me that I am not good enough, I can remind myself that one disappointing experience does not determine my worth or my future.

This change in perspective strengthens my tenacity because it encourages me to keep trying. I do not have to get everything right the first time, and I do not have to see immediate results to know that I am making progress. Sometimes, progress means getting through a difficult day, completing a task I have been putting off, or finding the courage to begin again after something has not worked out. These small victories matter because they remind me that moving forward does not require me to have everything figured out. It simply requires me to take the next step.

I have also come to appreciate how small, consistent habits can help me manage stress and maintain a healthier outlook on life. Taking a step back when I feel overwhelmed gives me time to think before reacting. Getting enough rest, eating mindfully, staying physically active, and making time for activities that bring me joy can help me feel better equipped to manage everyday pressures. For me, healthy living is not just about looking after my physical health. It is also about creating a lifestyle that supports my mental and emotional wellbeing.

Having people I can turn to is equally important. We do not always have to face our struggles alone. Sometimes, talking to someone who listens without judging us can help us see a situation differently. Asking for help is not a failure of strength. It is an acknowledgement that we are human and that support can make difficult experiences easier to navigate. When stress or emotional struggles become too much to manage alone, seeking professional support is also a responsible and courageous step. Our mental wellbeing deserves the same care and attention as our physical health.

Another important lesson I have learnt is that tenacity does not mean pushing forward at all costs. There is a difference between perseverance and exhausting ourselves to prove that we can endure everything. Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is take a break, reassess our direction, or recognize that a particular situation is no longer good for us. Rest does not mean giving up, and changing direction does not mean we have failed.

I want to cultivate the kind of tenacity that allows me to face challenges without losing myself in them. I want to remain determined while recognizing my limitations, and I want to pursue my goals without sacrificing my wellbeing in the process. I do not have to accomplish everything in one day or solve every problem immediately. Sometimes, focusing on what I can reasonably do today is far more productive than worrying about everything that remains unfinished. Being kind to myself along the way is just as important as remaining committed to my goals.

When I ask myself, “How does reducing stress and negativity help you to increase your tenacity?”, my answer is that it allows me to preserve the strength I need to keep going. Life will not always be fair, people will not always understand me, and plans will not always work out the way I hope. There will be moments when I feel discouraged and situations that test my patience. However, I do not want these experiences to determine how I feel about myself or what I believe I can achieve.

For me, tenacity is not about pretending to be invincible. It is about knowing that I can feel tired and still find a reason to continue. It is about acknowledging that some days will be harder than others without allowing those days to convince me that I cannot move forward. I do not need to carry every burden or fight every battle. Sometimes, choosing peace over conflict is precisely what allows me to preserve my strength for the things that deserve my attention.

Ultimately, reducing stress and negativity is not about creating a life without problems. It is about developing the emotional resilience and mental clarity to face those problems without losing myself in the process. I may not always be able to control what life brings my way, but I can continue choosing how I respond. I can choose to learn from my experiences, grow through my challenges, and keep moving forward even when progress feels slow.

Perhaps that is what true tenacity means to me. It is not simply the ability to endure life's storms. It is the ability to find my footing again, protect my peace, and continue walking forward with courage, hope, and a heart that refuses to give up on the possibility of better days.

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time: The Feast of God's Love

As I reflect on today's Church readings, I find myself thinking about how easily we can become caught up in the demands of everyday life and forget the One who has been walking beside us all along. Life does not always turn out the way we expect. We face disappointments, experience moments of uncertainty, carry responsibilities and sometimes fight battles that others know nothing about. Yet, through it all, God continues to invite us into a relationship with Him.

What speaks to my heart most deeply in today's readings is that God's invitation is not just about the promise of eternal life. It is about how I choose to live my life today, how I respond when things become difficult, and whether I am willing to trust Him even when I cannot see where the road ahead will lead.

In the first reading from the prophet Isaiah, God promises a joyful banquet for all peoples. He promises to destroy death forever, wipe away every tear and remove the disgrace of His people. Whenever I reflect on this promise, I am reminded that God sees more than what people see on the surface. He sees the pain behind a smile, the disappointment behind words left unspoken and the strength it sometimes takes simply to get through another day.

I believe many of us have experienced moments when we had to be strong even when we did not feel strong. There are times when we continue to fulfil our responsibilities, show up for others and carry on with life because that is what we feel we must do. We may not always share what we are going through, and people may never fully understand the struggles we face privately.

I know that life can test us in ways we never expected. There are lessons we learn through difficult experiences, and there are moments when we have to find the courage to pick ourselves up and keep moving forward. But one thing I want to hold on to is the knowledge that our struggles do not define the entirety of our lives, and neither do they mean that God has abandoned us.

Isaiah reminds me that suffering will not have the final word. God's promise gives me hope that there is a joy beyond the pain, a peace beyond the uncertainty and a love that will never fail us. Although I may not always understand why certain things happen, I can remind myself that God sees the bigger picture, even when all I can see is what is immediately in front of me.

For me, this promise is also a reminder not to postpone happiness and gratitude until life becomes perfect. We sometimes spend so much time worrying about what has gone wrong or what might happen tomorrow that we forget to appreciate the blessings we already have today. I want to learn to recognise God's presence in the little things, to appreciate the people He has placed in my life and to find reasons to be grateful even during challenging seasons.

The Responsorial Psalm reinforces this feeling of comfort through the beautiful reminder that the Lord is our shepherd. He leads us, restores our strength and remains with us even when we walk through dark valleys.

What I find reassuring is that the psalm does not suggest that we will never encounter dark valleys. Rather, it reminds us that we do not have to walk through them alone. Sometimes, we may pray for God to remove a difficulty from our lives, only to discover that the situation does not change as quickly as we hoped. Perhaps, during those moments, what we need most is not an immediate solution but the strength to face another day with faith.

I want to remind myself that trusting God does not mean I will never feel afraid, disappointed or uncertain. It means that even when I experience those feelings, I can still turn to Him. I can bring Him my worries, my questions and my burdens without pretending that everything is fine. I do not have to have all the answers before I come to Him. I simply have to be willing to place my trust in Him, one day at a time.

The Gospel reading from Matthew speaks to me in a different but equally powerful way. Jesus tells us about a king who prepares a wedding banquet for his son, only for the invited guests to refuse to attend. Some are too occupied with their own affairs, while others simply disregard the invitation. The king then sends his servants to invite everyone they can find, both good and bad.

What strikes me is that the king continues extending his invitation despite being rejected. To me, this reflects the patience, generosity and mercy of God. He does not stop calling us simply because we have made mistakes, lost our way or allowed other things to take priority in our lives.

I find this comforting because I know that none of us is perfect. We all have moments when we fall short, make the wrong decisions or allow our worries and disappointments to affect our relationship with God. Yet, His invitation remains open. He continues to give us opportunities to return to Him, grow in faith and become better versions of ourselves.

However, this Gospel also makes me look honestly at my own priorities. How often do I become so occupied with my responsibilities and concerns that I forget to spend quiet time with God? How often do I become so focused on finding solutions to my problems that I forget to surrender them to Him in prayer?

It is easy to remember God when we need His help. It is sometimes harder to remain close to Him when life becomes busy or when things are going well. But I do not want my relationship with God to be based only on what I need from Him. I want to remember Him in my gratitude, in my ordinary daily routines and in the decisions I make when nobody else is watching.

The part of the Gospel about the guest who arrives without a wedding garment also gives me something to think about. The king welcomes everyone, but the guest without the appropriate garment reminds us that accepting God's invitation requires more than simply being present. We must also be willing to let our faith transform our hearts.

For me, this means looking beyond the words I say and examining the person I am becoming. Am I becoming more patient? Am I learning to forgive, even when I have been hurt? Do I treat others with kindness and respect, even when I receive nothing in return? Am I willing to admit when I am wrong and learn from my mistakes?

These are not always easy questions to answer. It is much easier to recognise the shortcomings of others than to examine our own. But I believe that genuine faith requires honesty with ourselves. I cannot expect to grow spiritually if I am unwilling to acknowledge the areas in my life that need to change.

I do not claim to be perfect, and I know I still have much to learn. But I want my faith to be reflected in the way I live, the way I treat people and the way I respond to life's challenges. I want to wear that wedding garment through my actions, by choosing compassion over judgement, forgiveness over resentment and love over indifference.

The second reading from St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians brings everything together for me. St. Paul speaks about knowing how to live with little and how to live with plenty. He has experienced different circumstances, yet he remains confident because his strength comes from Christ.

This reminds me that life will not always give us what we want, when we want it or in the way we expect it. There will be moments when we feel blessed and moments when we wonder how we will get through a difficult situation. We may have plans that do not work out, hopes that are disappointed and questions that remain unanswered.

I believe one of the hardest lessons in faith is learning to trust God without knowing exactly how things will unfold. We naturally want certainty. We want to know that our efforts will pay off, that the people we care about will be okay and that the future will turn out the way we hope. But life does not always offer those guarantees.

St. Paul's words remind me that my peace should not depend entirely on whether everything is going according to plan. His confidence in Christ does not mean that he will never experience hardship. It means that his circumstances do not determine the source of his strength.

I want to develop that kind of faith. I want to learn to be grateful when life is good without taking my blessings for granted, and to remain hopeful when life becomes difficult without allowing disappointment to consume me. I want to remember that I can bring my concerns to God and trust Him to give me the strength and wisdom I need to take the next step.

When I bring all three readings together, I see a message that speaks directly to how I want to live my life. Isaiah reminds me of the hope God has promised. The Gospel reminds me to accept His invitation and allow His love to transform me. St. Paul reminds me that whatever season of life I find myself in, I can continue to draw strength from Christ.

As I reflect on these readings, I realise that accepting God's invitation is not a once in a lifetime decision. It is something I must choose every day. It is choosing to trust Him when I feel uncertain, to turn to Him when I am struggling, to thank Him when I am blessed and to continue growing even when the lessons are difficult.

I also want to be mindful of how I respond to others. If God is willing to extend His invitation to everyone, then I too should be willing to show kindness, compassion and understanding. We never truly know what another person is going through. Sometimes, a little patience, a listening ear or a simple act of kindness can make a greater difference than we realise.

Ultimately, I want my life to reflect the faith I profess. I want to become someone who does not simply speak about God's love but makes an effort to live it. I want to remember that I do not need to have a perfect life to experience His presence, and I do not need to have everything figured out before I place my trust in Him.

My prayer is that I will never become so distracted by life's demands that I forget God's invitation. May I continue to seek Him not only when I need help, but also when I have reasons to be grateful. May I have the courage to allow Him to change what needs changing within me, and the humility to recognise that there is always room for spiritual growth.

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Reflection: What prevents me from responding to God wholeheartedly?

I think what sometimes prevents me from responding to God wholeheartedly is my own worries, fears and the need to feel that I have some control over my life. Like many people, I can become so caught up in my responsibilities, challenges and uncertainties that I forget to surrender everything to Him and trust His plans. Sometimes, I want answers immediately, and when things do not go the way I hope, I struggle to understand why.

I know that having faith does not mean I will never have doubts or moments of weakness. It means choosing to trust God even when I cannot see the bigger picture. I am still learning to let go, be patient and remember that I do not have to carry every burden on my own.

Ultimately, I do not want to turn to God only when I need His help. I want to make Him part of my everyday life, to trust Him in both the good and difficult times, and to allow His love to transform me into a better person. I know I am not perfect, but my heart is willing to grow.