What's Next for Rumbi's Temptation?

Sitting here in Semenyih, the hum of the day-to-day is a constant backdrop. It’s Tuesday, July 22nd, 2025 — a little past 10:30 AM. The sun’s already high, the kids are… somewhere in their own little worlds. And me? I’m still here, trying to stitch together enough hours in the day to keep the mobile app dream alive, while wrangling WordPress gigs just to keep the lights on and the plates full.

This is the temptation I wrestle with the most these days: the temptation to lose trust. To lose trust in the process, in myself, in the idea that Allah has written this path for me — and that it’s good, even when it doesn’t feel like it. It’s so easy to sit in this chair, look at the mounting bills, the grocery list, the rent due, and feel like maybe I’m just… failing. Like all the choices that led here weren’t really choices at all, just mistakes stacked on mistakes. That’s what the whispers say anyway.

I dream about landing those big-ticket mobile app projects. The kind that pay what my work is worth, the kind that would let me finally breathe for a change. But those are far and few between, while the WordPress jobs — smaller, less glamorous, but steady — are what actually put food on the table right now. And so, I grind. I smile at the client who wants a blog header changed for the tenth time. I nod and send yet another invoice that barely scratches the surface. I tell myself: “One day, inshaAllah.”

And in between all of it, I sit here and wonder how to hold on to tawakkul. How to really trust that what I have today is exactly what I need, even when it’s hard to see. I remind myself of the words of the Prophet ﷺ: “If you were to rely upon Allah with the reliance He is due, you would be given provision as the birds are: they go out hungry in the morning and return full in the evening.”

It’s not easy. Some mornings, the weight of it all feels like too much. But then I look at my wife, my four stepkids, the roof over our heads, the simple meal on the table, and I know. I know He hasn’t forgotten me. Every challenge is just another way of calling me closer to Him — another test of patience, another opportunity to say: “Alhamdulillah, still.”

So here I am, putting it down in words. Not because I’ve figured it out, not because the struggle’s gone — but because sometimes you just need to remind yourself that there’s a plan. That it’s not all chaos, even if it feels like it. And that my job, here and now, is to keep showing up. To keep working, to keep praying, to keep trusting.

Whatever comes next — good or bad — it’s from Him. And that’s enough.