It’s one of those mornings. The house is quiet except for the sound of my fingers on the keyboard. Ralph is still fast asleep—he had a late-night meeting, poor guy. I’m sitting here working, glancing out the window at the gloomy weather. The clouds feel oddly comforting, like they get me. I was just complaining the other day about how the sun seemed relentless, and now the rain is teasing us with its slow arrival. Maybe life listens in ways we don’t always notice.

Over the weekend, one of my best friends had her beach house blessed. Not just a house—a beach house. One of those luxurious dream homes where everything is perfect, right down to the way the sunlight hits the water at the golden hour. I was invited, but I had already committed to attending the Full Moon Meditation event. Part of me didn’t mind missing it—I love my practice, and it’s a big part of who I am. But when I saw the pictures of her house, a pang hit me.

Her life seems effortless. She owns multiple properties in Bacolod—several of them just sitting empty, waiting for someone to breathe life into them. Meanwhile, I’m over here working so hard to hold on to a fraction of that. And I hate admitting this, but I felt something I wish I didn’t: envy.

I know it’s not a good feeling. I’ve prayed about it, begged God to guide me, to show me how to just be happy with what I have. And most of the time, I am. But I’m human, and sometimes envy sneaks in, whispering questions I shouldn’t be asking. Why is it so easy for others? Why does life feel like such a grind for me?

Then there’s the other side of the coin—the quiet blessings that show up in unexpected ways. My son Ken is on a journey that’s been a long time coming. Without going into too much detail, he’s starting to reconnect with his biological family on his dad’s side. It’s something I prayed for during those long, lonely nights when I was raising him on my own. Watching this unfold feels like watching a prayer come to life, like God whispering, “See? I’ve been listening all along.”

It’s humbling. Here I am, envying someone else’s material wealth while my own life is full of intangible miracles. I guess that’s how life works, doesn’t it? We get caught up in what we don’t have and forget the beauty of what’s right in front of us.

I’m still sitting here, working, hoping Ralph wakes up soon so we can share a quiet moment before the day takes over. I’m also hoping to quiet this feeling of envy, to replace it with gratitude. I don’t know if I’ll ever own a beach house—or even care to. But I do know that life has a way of balancing things, even when we don’t see it in the moment.

For now, I’ll keep working, keep praying, and keep reminding myself that my path—messy, complicated, and beautiful—is uniquely mine.