He Has Not Forgotten You

He Has Not Forgotten You

By حكيم Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

I was instructed to write this reflection for an individual soul you know who you are. I don’t know you personally, but I was sitting here quietly, doing meditation and seeking guidance from the Creator on a situation, and my pen began to whisper this message…

In the silence of your sorrow, in the stillness of your waiting, let me remind you of something ancient yet ever-present: the Creator has not abandoned you, nor has He turned His face from you in disgust or disappointment. No matter how dim the light feels today, no matter how hollow the echoes in your soul may seem, you are not forgotten. You are not unloved. You are not cast aside like yesterday’s dust.

Sometimes, life folds us inward into ourselves, into our grief, into that sacred, shadowed place where we wonder if anyone still hears our cries. But even there, in that dark cocoon of confusion, the Divine is closer than the breath in your chest. He watches over you not with wrath or detachment but with a mercy deeper than oceans and a love that defies the logic of this world.

The next life

 oh, the next life is certainly far better than this one. And yet, even in this life, beauty blooms if you know where to look. You’re standing in the middle of a story not yet complete. The page may feel torn today, the ink smeared with tears, but the Author has not stopped writing. In fact, He is preparing a chapter so generous, so overflowing with grace, that when you receive it, you will smile in awe and say, “This… this is what I was waiting for.”

Look back gently. Did He not find you when you had no roof, no warmth, no stability and provide shelter? Not just a building, but a place of peace, a moment of stillness, a person who became a harbor in your storm?

Did He not find you when your heart was wandering through deserts of doubt, when your mind felt like a compass spinning in circles and guide you to truth, to wisdom, to light?

Did He not come to your side when your hands were empty, when your soul was hungry, when your spirit was bone-tired  and satisfy you with what you needed most, even if it didn’t come in the wrapping you expected?

You’ve been carried. You’ve been protected. You’ve been favored, even in the furnace of pain. And what’s coming next oh beloved soul is not just recovery. It’s resurrection.

So now, a word of caution, wrapped in love:

Don’t be mean to others. Don’t be unjust. For the Creator has been so good to you.

Don’t be impatient  for He was patient with you when you stumbled, when you doubted, when you delayed obedience but still received blessing.

Don’t you dare turn your back on those who are still striving those still climbing out of the hole you once sat in because He never turned His back on you. He sat beside you. He lifted you. He dusted you off and whispered, “Keep going.”

How can you forget all that He has brought you through? Are you that foolish? Have you let comfort make you forget the cold nights? Have you let arrival erase the memory of the wilderness? Foolish is the one who eats bread and forgets the famine. Foolish is the one who sees sunlight and denies the storm ever came.

Let me tell you a little old folklore my grandmother used to whisper around a fire one night when the wind was howling and the pot was boiling over with beans and sass:

There once was a man named Ol’ Barto. Now Barto wasn’t too bright, but he thought he knew everything. One day, Barto got blessed out of nowhere somebody gave him a goat, a patch of land, and even a wife who could make corn cakes so fluffy they floated. But Barto, with his thick head and thin memory, got too proud. He strutted through town like he invented sunshine. Folks in need would come to him and he’d say, “Get on! I worked hard for this!” forgetting full well he didn’t do a lick to earn it.

One night, that goat kicked over his fire, burned his barn down, the land dried up, and his wife said, “I married a fool,” and left him with nothing but one sandal and a cast iron pan.

He sat in the ashes, weeping, and a little child barefoot, crusty-nosed, and joyful passed by singing:

“Barto, Barto, now you see,

You forgot the Giver, foolishly.

Had you shared and stayed so kind,

Blessings would've doubled in time!”

Barto finally lifted his eyes and said, “Lord, I’m sorry. Next time I get blessed, I won’t act like it’s all me.”

The story’s silly  but the message ain’t. Don’t be a Barto.

Remember your beginnings. Let your pain teach you how to love. Let your past poverty birth present generosity. Let your healed wounds give way to healing others. Don’t let ease make you arrogant. Don’t let success make you forget who brought you through.

Because every blessing you have is borrowed. Every good thing you hold is on loan from the heavens. You didn’t earn it all. You were carried, chosen, and cherished even when you were a mess.

And the same Creator who saw you in the gutter of your grief, who gathered your pieces when you were shattered  He’s still working. Still loving. Still giving. Still lifting.

You are still here. Still breathing. Still rising. Still chosen. And the One who created your spirit knows exactly what you need. Trust Him. Trust the pauses. Trust the silence. Trust the space between what you asked for and what is yet to arrive. Because even in the delay, there is design. Even in the wait, there is wisdom. Even in your emptiness, He is pouring into you something eternal.

So keep walking, gentle soul. Not arrogantly, not bitterly, but with the quiet confidence of someone who knows they are not walking alone. Hold your head high not because life has always been kind, but because the One who made you is.

He has not abandoned you.

He will not abandon you.

And He will give you  in this life and the next what will make your soul sing.

So to whoever you are, reading this: This was meant for you. The Creator sees you. The Universe hasn’t let you go. And your story is not over.