There are moments - quiet, raw, and unfiltered - when your heart no longer knows what it wants. The Spotify playlists that once made sense now feel like noise. The friendships that once gave you warmth feel hollow. The mirror reflects someone familiar, but not known.

You are not broken. You are being redirected.

In the whirlwind of curated Instagram lives, busy schedules, and modern-day hustle culture, it’s easy to lose touch, not just with yourself, but with your Creator. Emptiness doesn't always stem from a lack of things; sometimes, it arises from a lack of connection.

You might be surrounded by people and still feel isolated. Loved, but still aching. That ache? It’s your fitrah, the natural disposition of your soul, yearning to come home.

“Verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest.” — Surah Ar-Ra’d (13:28)

It’s a verse many of us have heard in passing, on TikTok reels or printed posters. But when you’re lost - truly lost - its meaning hits differently. It’s not just poetic. It’s real. Your heart is searching, and the only place it finds true calm is in divine remembrance. 

But let’s be honest. The re-direction isn’t always graceful. It's not always a soft background Qur'an and a cup of tea. Sometimes, it’s crying in the car after Fajr. It’s feeling guilty for not praying, yet too numb to even raise your hands. It’s scrolling endlessly just to avoid your own thoughts.

And yet, Allah never left you.

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ once said: “Allah is more joyful with the repentance of His servant than one of you who finds his lost camel in the desert.” — Sahih Muslim

That divine joy is waiting for you the moment you turn back. Not when you’re perfect. Not when your prayers are on time or your sins are erased. Just the moment your heart whispers, “Ya Allah, I miss You.”

This isn't about guilt-tripping. This is about grace. Because the beauty of Islam isn’t that you must never fall, it’s that every fall can become a sujood, every crack a doorway for divine light to pour in. 

Your “lost” feelings are not a failure; they’re a spiritual compass. They’re alerting you to recalibrate.

So what does re-direction look like?

It might be as subtle as turning off your phone before bed and whispering dhikr into the dark. It might be praying two rak’ahs of tawbah even if you cried between every ayah. It might be deleting that chat, blocking that number, walking away from what feels good but isn’t good for your soul.

Healing isn’t linear. Neither is faith. But Allah meets you where you are. And more importantly—He sees the effort. The struggle. The late-night regrets. The quiet repentance.

“And when My servants ask you about Me, indeed I am near. I respond to the call of the caller when he calls upon Me.” — Surah Al-Baqarah (2:186)

This isn’t just a reminder. It’s an invitation. Not back to some ideal version of yourself, but back to the One who made you, who knows your heart even when you don’t.

You may feel lost now. But maybe being lost is what you needed. To find what truly matters.

And when your heart finally begins to soften, in that stillness, you’ll know:

You were never alone. You were simply being redirected.