I remember since I was a child I was story-catcher digging for the story behind every encounter. I've been obsessed with finding meaning behind everything and everyone. My mum got concerned at some point, “you’ll drive yourself crazy!” She used to warn me. To some degree she was right - I guess my problem was trying to “rationalize” - to understand with my mind what the mind can never grasp.
A few days ago I was going through a difficult time. Whenever life becomes tangled, I often reach for fabric, thread, and a needle. There is something about sewing that slows my thoughts enough for the heart to begin listening.
Without planning it, I found myself stitching the Cave… the Cave of the Hijrah, the migration of Prophet Mohamed from Makkah to Madina. At its entrance I embroidered a spider spinning her delicate web, while below her two pigeons quietly guarded their nest. On the opposite page I stitched the Quran’s verse describing this moment when the Prophet told his companion: "Do not grieve. Indeed, God is with us."
لَا تَحْزَنْ إِنَّ اللَّهَ مَعَنَا
A few days ago I was going through a difficult time. Whenever life becomes tangled, I often reach for fabric, thread, and a needle. There is something about sewing that slows my thoughts enough for the heart to begin listening.
Without planning it, I found myself stitching the Cave… the Cave of the Hijrah, the migration of Prophet Mohamed from Makkah to Madina. At its entrance I embroidered a spider spinning her delicate web, while below her two pigeons quietly guarded their nest. On the opposite page I stitched the Quran’s verse describing this moment when the Prophet told his companion: "Do not grieve. Indeed, God is with us."
لَا تَحْزَنْ إِنَّ اللَّهَ مَعَنَا
As I stitched, I remembered that the miracle of the cave is not really about a spider or two pigeons concealing the Prophet from his pursuers. It was about teaching us to see the world differently. What appears fragile - a spider thread, a bird's nest - can become stronger than an army when it becomes a vehicle for Divine care.
Perhaps every cave in our lives carries this invitation. We enter thinking we are trapped, only to discover that God is already weaving a protection we cannot yet perceive.
Later that morning I left for work, still carrying the image with me. As I stepped outside, there was a pigeon quietly waiting on my doorstep.
Perhaps every cave in our lives carries this invitation. We enter thinking we are trapped, only to discover that God is already weaving a protection we cannot yet perceive.
Later that morning I left for work, still carrying the image with me. As I stepped outside, there was a pigeon quietly waiting on my doorstep.
My grown-up mind immediately dismissed it. Coincidence.
Yet something made me stop. I walked back toward her. She didn’t fly away. She waited while I opened my backpack, searched for my phone, and slowly took a photograph.
I stood still watching her for a few minutes.
A deep feeling of relief and peace settled in my heart and only then did she lift her wings and disappear- as if she felt it too. Her role was over.
Did God send her?
I don’t know.
Was it a coincidence?
Perhaps.
But I also know that something within me had changed. I was no longer looking for proof.
Maybe that is how symbols work. They are not magical interruptions of reality. They are ordinary moments that become transparent to a deeper meaning. Gentle reminders.
Was the pigeon a message?
Or had stitching the cave prepared my heart to recognize it as such?
Again, I found myself asking the question that has followed me for years:
What is real?
The question is not whether the pigeon was objectively a sign from God - I believe that everything actually is. The deeper question is whether, through that encounter, I received something true that transformed my heart.
What if we approach our lives not as problems to be solved but more as dreams to be interpreted. And perhaps what matters is not whether the pigeon was “real,” but whether, for a brief moment, my heart awakened to a Reality deeper than what my eyes alone could see. A reality of an enchanted world alive with meaning.
Yet something made me stop. I walked back toward her. She didn’t fly away. She waited while I opened my backpack, searched for my phone, and slowly took a photograph.
I stood still watching her for a few minutes.
A deep feeling of relief and peace settled in my heart and only then did she lift her wings and disappear- as if she felt it too. Her role was over.
Did God send her?
I don’t know.
Was it a coincidence?
Perhaps.
But I also know that something within me had changed. I was no longer looking for proof.
Maybe that is how symbols work. They are not magical interruptions of reality. They are ordinary moments that become transparent to a deeper meaning. Gentle reminders.
Was the pigeon a message?
Or had stitching the cave prepared my heart to recognize it as such?
Again, I found myself asking the question that has followed me for years:
What is real?
The question is not whether the pigeon was objectively a sign from God - I believe that everything actually is. The deeper question is whether, through that encounter, I received something true that transformed my heart.
What if we approach our lives not as problems to be solved but more as dreams to be interpreted. And perhaps what matters is not whether the pigeon was “real,” but whether, for a brief moment, my heart awakened to a Reality deeper than what my eyes alone could see. A reality of an enchanted world alive with meaning.
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