Tuesday, 09 September 2025
I’ll be honest with you. The past few days I’ve been doubting my decision to write long reflections and publish them only here on the blog. A part of me kept asking: does it even matter? Does anyone get something from it? Am I being selfish, writing just for myself instead of sharing with the 24,000 followers I still have on Instagram? Wouldn’t it be better to show up there, where the attention is, where the “numbers” live?
These questions have been running circles in my head like kids after too much sugar. But then... life has a funny way of answering doubts at the exact moment you need it.
Last weekend, my youngest daughter casually told me a story.
“Mom, remember Vibi? My friend who’s a Sunday school teacher?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She said reading your blog really helped her during her recovery after her appendectomy.”
I blinked. “Wait, she reads my blog?”
“Yes. I didn’t even know she did.”
“How did she find it?”
“No idea. Maybe she follows you on Instagram.”
And just like that... *poof*... all those doubts evaporated. It was like carrying a backpack full of bricks and suddenly realizing, oh wait, I can just put this down. My heart felt light. My words don’t need to reach thousands of people. I don’t need to chase endless likes, shares, or metrics that shift every day. What I truly need, and what feels deeply fulfilling, is knowing that my words touched someone’s life in a real moment of need.
I keep reminding myself of that ripple effect. You never know where your words travel, who they meet, or how they heal. You don’t need a viral wave. A small ripple can still move water far away.
Because I was so happy, I decided to do a little “pay it forward” gesture. I bought Vibi a box of Albuminos, the fish extract supplement my sister had given me after my own surgery. It felt symbolic, like passing along a small thread of care, one person to another. I dropped it off at my daughter’s school, along with a pile of other things she needed to bring for her trip to Toraja.
After playing courier for our daughter’s packages, my husband and I suddenly realized we were starving. It was pouring rain, and we ducked into a Padang restaurant right next to the hospital. Ever since I was admitted, I’d been craving telur barendo from that place. Both my mom and mother-in-law had raved about it, and finally, I got to taste it. Verdict: worth the hype. Super delicious!
We weren’t done, though. Our little rainy-day date continued at a Thai-style food court in the same area. I ordered dragon fruit juice with collagen peptides (because apparently that’s great for internal healing), my husband grabbed a whole coconut, and we wrapped up some noodles to bring home for our daughter’s dinner.
The rest of the day earlier was a swirl of everyday busyness: a massage appointment, then the circus of managing packages, then the headache of dismantling and replacing the broken AC in our other house. My husband even trained a substitute Cleansheet ranger to replace the one who usually works for us but couldn’t make it this time. Life never sticks to one genre. Romance in the food court, comedy in the packages, and drama in the AC replacement.
I often want to write more about my deeper thoughts, those reflections that swirl in my INFJ brain and refuse to leave me alone. But I also feel it’s important to capture the little details of daily life. Because when I look back later, those details are what bring me right back into a moment. The smell of rain outside the Padang restaurant. The mess of packages waiting at the lobby. The taste of dragon fruit juice while my husband slurped his coconut. These little fragments of the ordinary are worth remembering.
Virginia Woolf once said, “Arrange whatever pieces come your way.” I think that’s what writing is for me. I take the pieces; some profound, some trivial, some funny, some messy... and I arrange them into a story worth remembering. Not because it’s extraordinary, but because it’s mine. And sometimes, those small, honest pieces are exactly what someone else needs to hear to feel less alone.
So, if you’ve been doubting yourself lately; whether it’s about writing, creating, parenting, working, or simply existing... let me pass along the reminder I got from my daughter’s story:
You don’t need to impact everyone. Touching one life is already more than enough. And often, you won’t even know who that someone is until much later.
Keep showing up with your small ripples. They may travel farther than you can imagine.