I Entered the New Year With Unfinished Duas

The Night Between Two Years

The world celebrated loudly that night. Fireworks cracked the sky open, laughter spilled from windows, and countdowns echoed through glowing screens. But in my room, the only sound was silence—heavy, patient, and familiar.

When the clock struck midnight, nothing magical happened.

No sudden relief.

No answered prayer.

No miracle knocking at my door.

I entered the new year carrying the same duas I had been whispering for months—some for healing, some for ease, some for things I was too afraid to name aloud. They followed me like shadows, unfinished and unanswered.

I realized then:

Some people enter the new year with resolutions.

Some enter with celebrations.

And some, like me, enter with duas still waiting in the heavens.

The Weight of Unanswered Prayers

I used to think unanswered duas meant rejection. That Allah had turned away, or that my faith wasn’t strong enough. But that night, sitting with my prayer mat still warm from ‘Isha, I understood something deeper.

Unfinished duas are not failures.

They are ongoing conversations with Allah.

They carry:

• Tears that fell in sujood
• Hope whispered between breaths
• Patience learned the hard way
• Trust tested again and again

Some of my duas were old—so old they had become part of who I was. I had prayed for things that didn’t come, doors that stayed closed, people who never returned, and ease that felt delayed beyond reason.

Yet, here I was. Still breathing. Still praying. Still believing.

What the Year Took From Me

The year that ended was not kind. It took more than it gave.

It took:

• A version of me that was more certain
• Dreams I thought were written for me
• People I trusted would stay
• The comfort of quick answers

There were nights when I prayed not for miracles, but just for strength to survive the next day. Nights when my duas were messy, broken, and filled with pauses because words wouldn’t come.

And yet—Allah listened.

Even when He didn’t answer the way I wanted.

Faith That Learned to Breathe

Somewhere along the way, my faith changed.

It became quieter.

Less demanding.

More surrendered.

I stopped asking “Why me?” and started asking “What are You teaching me?”

I stopped timing Allah’s help and started trusting His wisdom.

That night, as a new year began, I didn’t beg Allah to change everything overnight. Instead, I made a softer dua:

• “Ya Allah, don’t let my heart harden.”
• “Ya Allah, don’t let unanswered prayers turn into resentment.”
• “Ya Allah, keep me close—even if the answers come later.”

That was the moment I realized: faith doesn’t mean having all the answers; it means trusting the One who does.

Why Some Duas Remain Unfinished

I’ve learned that some duas stay unfinished because:

• They are meant to change us before they change our circumstances
• They protect us from things we don’t yet understand
• They are stored as rewards for the Hereafter
• Or they are answered in ways we fail to recognize

Allah is never late.

He is never careless.

And He never ignores a heart that turns to Him sincerely.

Sometimes, the delay is the mercy.

Entering the New Year Differently

So yes, I entered the new year with unfinished duas.

But I also entered with:

• Stronger sabr than last year
• Deeper tawakkul than before
• A heart that still bows in sajdah
• And faith that refuses to leave, even when tired

This year, I am not chasing answers.

I am choosing closeness to Allah.

If He gives, I will be grateful.

If He withholds, I will still trust.

If the dua remains unfinished, I will keep praying.

Because sometimes, the greatest success is not getting what you ask for—

but never stopping asking Allah at all.

*****