People loosing their families, Women suffering the most amid those Men, often loosing their respect and dignity, Children overnight turned into orphans, seeking refuge in ill privileged orphanages, where many of them are fully exploited in the worst way possible….... How many such difficulties and tortures are they been imposed upon. We sit in our comfortable homes or snuggle in our cozy beds and read books about them, see a documentary on them, and at the end we gladly think We understand what they went through. But the truth is we dont .. How can we, We havent seen our loved ones die as closely as they have, We havent been robbed of our own land, We dont seen the cruel face of mankind as they did ....
I wish they would stop fighting among themselves and try to emerge as a civilised place to live in. Afghanistan, I ache for you. I pray for your healthy emergence and wish that people living there would once again get to recognize their homeland with the same proud feeling as their ancestors. I wish Allah would bless that Land with peace and tranquility.
Once again, there shall be a normal life there, where children’s laughter would envelope the surroundings rather than rattling guns, The tasty aroma’s emitting from each house, making their men rush back to their homes, their families rather than Fear. One day people will wake to find their old Afghanistan, One day ...
Feedback from my mentors said that I simply must rework my cv. Of course, as I worked on inserting formal citations for my publications, I decided that the nursery needed urgent attention. Do not rush to judge this as mere escapism: the nursery has needed urgent attention for, - well, longer than I care to admit.
But in this world of ours, somehow, for the majority of the population, the creation of a pleasant home has become a womanly endeavor. A dirty or untidy home reflects on a woman (the “housewife”) and not on the husband, no matter who may have contributed to its appearance. So tidying homes, cooking tasty dishes, organizing homes, replacing furniture, planning spaces, and throwing parties is for women.
I have generally observed that men engage in discrete tasks - do that diaper, do the trash, chop those onions. Happily, there is enough of a time gap between their tasks as to enable them to forget exactly how to chop those onions and exactly where the baby tylenol is: so she tends to do it herself instead of explaining the entire task over and over each time.
Men tend to take pieces of the Household System. Men tend to do Chores. Women tend to “take care of the house.” (And if you know a man that is an exception, please list his name, marital status, sexual orientation, and address for my single friends.) Now, let it be noted that this blog post appears thanks to Svend’s willingness to watch Raihana this evening. But for the overall picture, Pierre Bourdieu notes that hunter-gatherer men go out and do the Big Task - chop down the firewood or kill the animal. Women labor all day long in unrecognized, small, endless tasks.
This is why household work is unpaid and unrecognized. It also fades into women’s self-hood, so that when a woman goes out to shop for a new frying pan, “she’s shopping” as if “she’s sunning herself.” When she cooks a fancy dessert, it’s as if she’s lying on the divan and eating bon-bons. If you disagree with this picture and have evidence to the contrary, again, please list the man AND woman responsible for creating an alternative setup so I can recognize them here.
When a woman spends a few hours cleaning up, she only has spiritual and emotional satisfaction that she has contributed to the well-being of her family. She doesn’t have a cent in her pocket to show for this labor, day after day; and if she is divorced, she was “not working” so she easily ends up destitute. A woman’s self-hood fades easily into Others. A woman caring for her home is not doing much: it’s as if she is caring for herself. A woman caring for her child is a mother-and-child, and you can be annoyed with her presence in a nice cafe. A man caring for his child is a) a Man with b) a child.
In Pakistan, on a crowded domestic flight this summer, I struggled to hold on to Raihana in the cramped seat we shared. I briefly griped about how difficult it was to the educated and suave gentleman sitting next to me. “It’s women’s instinct,” he said.
Here in the US, about a year ago, I was working on a lecture in Jittery Joe’s Cafe in Athens, GA. Svend was watching Raihana outside the cafe. A young woman opened the door and congratulated me on my man: “I must say you’ve trained him well,” she said. I half-chuckled, and said, “I guess he’s okay.” The woman puffed up with outrage and said, almost pink in the face, “He’s OKAY?” as if to say, “well, then, push off and hand him over, hussy, if you aint gonna be grateful for the man, ‘cause I sure could use him.”
Yes, the bar is low.
I digress.
So I set aside the cv and I hurried off to the nursery. I called maintenance and asked them to fix the nursery window because the nursery needs fresh air, urgently, TODAY. I then vacuumed the nursery and picked up all the stray bits of paper, tissue, lids, caps, crayons, pens, etc etc that seem to reproduce around a toddler. Halfway into vacuuming, I decided that two years was enough, and the ceiling fan simply must be dusted. The window sill and the rocking chair could use some dusting too.
Then I decided that the chest and crib needed to be moved to the corners so that the sunny space could be used for reading. I moved a shelving unit from my room (where it was elbowing me as I tried to type) and stacked all the books neatly in its three shelves. I pushed the basket of stray toys into the corner to minimize child interest in it. I reorganized all the organizing bins along the wall - musical toys, vehicles, puzzles - all in their own bins. Of course the baby’s comforter smelled mysteriously of rotten milk, so that had to be laundered as well.
I had not finished lining up the organizing bins when the door opened and I heard baby-talk. Svend had actually brought Raihana home EARLY from school.
Raihana strode into the nursery and surveyed the strange scene before her. She babbled in surprise, delight and fear, and started pulling out toys and bringing them out to the kitchen again.
I’m back to my cv.
But before I do the cv, I must reconnect with myself via a blog post, to examine the status quo.
It would be better to content oneself with doing Tasks and Chores than with taking care of a System.
{extended} ]]>Wow, I never thought choosing a wedding date could be this difficult.
Then, we found the perfect date. 1st Muharram 1429. The first day of our new Hijri year.
A perfect date for the start of a brand new life… Alhamdulillaah.
Later that day, as I was marking my brand new planner, I started thinking.
Has it really been a year already from the last New Year? Goodness, how time flies…
Of course, as we all know, the number one tendency that most of us are guilty of doing just before new years is—- (drum-roll please)—- RESOLUTIONS!
Yup, our new year’s resolutions…
Ahah! I see some eyes rolling backwards now. I know… it is kind of one of the ‘almost’ wasteful things that I do in the beginning of every single year. And I have a reason for saying that. (and here it comes!)
Every end of the year, as I reached the end of my planner, I would flip back to the early pages to look for my ‘New Year’s Resolutions’.
And that’s when my cheeks would go all pink and red.
There are always two reasons for these glorious colors to appear on me- the first reason is the happiness glow that comes from the delight I feel of the achievements I have made, alhamdulillaah. And the second reason is from the embarrassment of the things I had said I wanted to do and achieve but I didn’t.
I keep asking myself, if I don’t bother to follow thru every single goal I have said I wanted to achieve at the beginning of every year, why do I bother setting any goals at all, right? I mean, if I know that I am not going to eat the sandwich that I am preparing, why bother making it? Or if I know I am not going to bake the cake, why bother jotting down its recipe?
Hmm…
Just then, I remembered a Japanese proverb that says
Vision without action is a daydream. Action without vision is a nightmare.
Ahh, apparently, sometimes I would rather be daydreaming than having nightmare?
Ouch and Double Ouch!
Is there another way to look at these unaccomplished goals?
I chuckled when I remembered a technique Jay Leno once gave his audience on how to twist things so that we would look as if we did achieve our New Year’s resolution. By using the example of one of the Top 10 resolutions people commonly make- losing weight and getting to their acceptable weight range- here was what he said,
Now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average… which means, you have met your New Year’s resolution.
Bravo Jay. You are indeed a genius!
But who am I kidding, right? I don’t want to cheat myself out of the truth here.
Looking back at my personal goals, I realized something too. Even though there are goals I failed to achieve, I do have many goals that I actually did achieve.
I was reminded of what Allaah the Al Mighty said,
That man can have nothing but what he strives for; That (the fruit of) his striving will soon come in sight (An-Najm 53 : 39 – 40)
SubhanAllaah….
His Words has made me ‘pause and reflect’ as one of my close pal named her blog with. Yes, let us all pause and reflect for a while. What was the message behind this verse?
Allaah said that we can have nothing except for what we had worked hard for. This means that until and unless I move myself into action, and focus my attention on the center of the dartboard and release that dart I have been holding, I am not going to get my bull’s eyes, my goals, my aims.
It is as simple A-B-C, don’t you think so?
And at every end of the year, it comes to my sight… the fruits of my striving…the result, just like how Allaah has promised.
For the ones I have strived for, I have received beautiful sights and I loved every single bit of it, alhamdulillaah.
And for the ones I do nothing about, well, I have to admit that the sight is pretty ugly, nauzubillaah.
I have got to be honest here. Were the unachievable goals remained that way because they were set ridiculously high? I mean, did I plan to climb Mount Everest when I have never tried climbing even the hill behind my house?
Les Brown always said to,
Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.
But, Adolph Monod also said that,
Between the great things we cannot do and the small things we will not do, the danger is that we shall do nothing.
I guess, it doesn’t really matter if I have planned something great or small, right? The thing is that I must do something about it.
That leads me to one question. Having all these great and small things planned and laid out nicely, how do I start doing them? The smaller ones look easy, but the great goals that I have? Now, that is another story.
Then, I found this wonderful advice given by Lady Aishah (as) of what Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) had once said,
A’isha reported Allah’s Messenger as saying, “The acts most pleasing to Allah are those which are done continuously, even if they are small.” And when A’isha did any act she did it continuously.” (Muslim)
Aha… start small and then do it continuously. I can remember that, inshaAllaah. Can you?
That is the technique, then. Regardless of what we want to achieve, great, medium or small, we must start every single effort with small steps that are done continuously. Then, not only that we are able to achieve our goals, but more importantly, we are also doing it by following the steps that have made Allaah pleased with us, InshaAllaah.
Now, that’s what I called no-lose situation!
Let me share with you a joke I read about New Year’s Resolution of a person. He has two resolutions made that year. The first is to read books and the second is to lose weight (don’t we all have that? ). Well, here they are:
First Resolution: To read books
1999: I will read at least 20 good books a year.
2000: I will read at least 10 books a year.
2001: I will read 5 books a year.
2002: I will finish one book.
2003: I will read some articles in the newspaper this year.
2004: I will read at least one article this year.
2005: I will try and finish the comics section this year.
Second Resolution: To lose weight
1999: I will get my weight down below 180.
2000: I will watch my calories until I get below 190.
2001: I will follow my new diet religiously until I get below 200.
2002: I will try to develop a realistic attitude about my weight.
2003: I will work out 5 days a week.
2004: I will work out 3 days a week.
2005: I will try to drive past a gym at least once a week.
Yikes! Funny, right? It really should be the way around….
I asked myself this one question. Am I like this man? Have my own New Year’s resolutions gone from great to average then down to mediocre just because I cannot bring myself to achieving the big goals? Am I discounting myself in setting up my goals? Have I been setting unrealistic goals? Are my goals big enough to drive me forward, to inspire me, to improve myself, to trigger change? Or it is too small that has made me ordinary, weak, regular and maybe perhaps a little bit pathetic?
What about you my friends? What are your goals this new year? Have you set them up? What are the baby steps you plan taking to ensure that you are on your way to achieve those goals? Will the goals you set shoot you to the stars, possibly send you to the moon, or maybe take you just over the clouds; or at the very least let you reach your house rooftop?
Think about it…
No matter what size your goals are, always remember what the Malay proverb says,
Bit by bit, in the end it will become a hill.
Come on my brothers and sisters, let us start aiming and climbing!
Bit by bit…
One… Two… Three… Four… Five…
Allaahu ‘alaam…
Copyright (c) Sis Zabrina 2008
Sis Zabrina
Now blogging at http://www.wisdomthruwords.blogspot.com
Author, Life is an Open Secret - 18 Inspirational Stories from Ordinary life experiences
~Your Source for Islamic Motivational and Inspirational Stories~
The local Evangelical church in my area has this written on its gate “We worship - not in private. Everyone is welcome to join with us in the conversation with God” but, churches are still divided. Our mosques are divided too just like our minds. You can’t enter an Ismaili Jamat Khana if you are not Ismaili. Shias don’t pray in Sunni mosques and vice versa. We also clearly announce on some of our mosques that women are not allowed inside.
And it is not just Muslims. Non-Muslims quote from the Quran and blame Muslims for hating non-Muslims:
“O Prophet! Strive against the disbelievers and the hypocrites, and be stern with them. Hell will be their home, a hapless journey’s end.” (Quran 66:9).
These are the words of God. The same God who said:
“That whosoever would not seek God should be put to death, whether small or great, whether man or woman” (Old Testament 15:13).
I don’t treat these words as catalysts in division, but see them as jointly pointing towards monotheism. I used to believe that only Islam was a defender for slaves and was astonished to read the following verses from Deuteronomy:
Thou shalt not deliver unto his master the servant which is escaped from his master unto thee: He shall dwell with thee, even among you, in that place which he shall choose in one of thy gates, where it liketh him best: thou shalt not oppress him. (23:15-16)
I believe that this is the message of God; the same God who taught the same thing through another prophet in the Quran.
Amongst those who will go to Hell are those who “disbelieve and deny Our revelations” (Quran 5:10). According to this definition all Jews, Christians, Muslims (Shias, Sunnis and their sub-sects) are not Hell-goers. They neither disbelieve in God nor do they deny the revelations. Allah is Kind and Merciful. He sent His message of love and peace through Jesus whose birth He turned into a living miracle.
I taught comparative theology for a year and realised there is great beauty and truth not in the direct word of Allah but also in His other books which quote Him indirectly. Quran brings Allah’s final message, but the earlier Books brought the same message which was revised and drafted to complete God’s religious discourse with His mortals in Islam.
As part of the comparative theology class I went to the Christmas Mass two years ago with six Muslim students. When the priest finished talking about Virgin Mary and the birth of Jesus, I was overcome with emotion. I imagined a frightened young woman; a pregnant virgin saying
“How shall I have a son, seeing that no man has touched me, and I am not unchaste?” (Quran, 19:20).
I imagined a woman to whom Allah devoted a chapter in Quran; a distinction not even given to the mother of His last and beloved Prophet. It was one of those moments that I will never forget. I could feel God’s love pouring into every pore of my body. My arms and legs quickly swelled with goosebumps and tears rolled down my cold cheeks. All of the day before I was divided on whether to go to the Mass or not. I was scared of Muslims judging me.
As I stood in the aisle I felt love for Allah in a church. And all of a sudden I didn’t care who was judging me. I looked right through the large and overbearing wooden cross. I felt sad that Jesus was humiliated and could feel a humanly connection with him but knew that he was a great human being and nothing more. He doesn’t have to be the son of God to be a saviour. He will return to earth like a human and will be the saviour for all humankind.
That day I learnt to love Maryam, the blessed mother of Jesus, just like I loved Fatima and Aisha (may peace be upon them all). I also discovered the love I have in my heart for Jesus. When I turned around to walk out of the church hall, I noticed the same ethereal connection in my students’ faces. I know that visit changed seven lives and it only made us better Muslims not worse.
Those who have never compared religions constructively will never understand that sharing Christmas lunch with non-Muslim friends or family is not about imitating them. Those who have never met Allah outside the mosque will never appreciate that He is everywhere. Those who deny through their obsessive practices the greatness of Allah’s other prophets cannot accept that Allah can speak through any human He wishes, to any human He wishes. Those who have never shared dinner with people who are drinking, can never value the strength of a Muslim’s willpower - they will never understand that dawah can be done not only through lengthy sermons but through polite refusal to a glass of wine ‘on grounds of one’s religious responsibilities.’ Those who praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue cannot feel the fearless love for Allah in my heart.
As Christmas day approaches following Eid al Adha, my heart fills with renewed overflowing love for Allah, His religions, His prophets, His books.
I see you Lord; I hear you God; I can read your message, Ya Rab! Please grant the blind the eyes to see you everywhere; please gift them the ears so they can hear you from every direction; please enter into their hearts so they love you continually. Please bless your servants, Allah.
Ameen or amen, what’s the difference?!
Originally posted on Achelois as ‘Where is God?’
{extended} ]]>“My Lord, my Lord. I am sick. I’m in need of healing and you are the Cure.”
In the life of a believer, one would hope that eventually, he or she realizes the extent of their illness. We all suffer from various diseases of the heart. Some are obvious while others hide themselves so well that it takes long periods of time to uncover them. As I am getting closer to my third year as a Muslim, I see that I have a lot of work to do.
But have any of you noticed that when you decide to pull yourselves away from the world, if only for a few minutes, your nafs starts complaining? Really, it becomes like a child, whining and complaining because you have denied it something. And often times that something is not a good thing. Also, have you noticed that the harder you work on polishing your heart, the more the dunya, hawa, nafs and Shaytan (may God protect us), work to pull you away? Of course it’s easy during the month of Ramadan to fast and pray since one of our major enemies is locked up for the whole month. But what about the times when you aim to fast for six days in Shawwal or simple sunnah fasts? Or, goodness, what if you aim to get yourself out of bed on some random day to pray qiyam al layl? That’s when you hear all the pleas of the nafs. “Go back to sleep, you’ve prayed enough. Stop being so hard on yourself.” Subhan’Allah. In order to increase our taqwa and the possibility of a joyous afterlife, we have to make sacrifices.
I’ve wanted to write about this for sometime but I’ve kept this to myself for various reasons. One of my pre-conversion fears was I wouldn’t be able to practice this religion on my own without a husband, Muslim friends or a large community. I swear, sometimes I take myself out of the game before I start to play.
Let me tell you about a particular group of Muslims. They were known for their austere practice of Islam and their ability to recite the Qur’an by heart. They were learned men and women who were well versed in hadith and knowledgeable about fiqh and other matters of Islamic law. They served as advisors to kings and they were teachers of large communities. From this description, you could say that these Muslims could be from anywhere but the ones I’m talking about came from West Africa. These learned holy men and women saw their world turned upside down by the Atlantic slave trade. If you really want to learn about these great people, please read Sylviane A. Diouf’s Servants of Allah: African Muslims Enslaved in the Americas. After reading this book and honestly, I was amazed and embarrassed. I was amazed by the intellectual and religious achievements of these pious people and frankly, quite embarrassed for myself and other Muslims I’ve known.
One of the many complaints that I heard from some Muslims before my conversion was that Islam is too hard. “It doesn’t make life easier. Fasting is stupid. Who can pray five times day?” While I can understand their complaints, I don’t think they realize that they are mocking the practices of the prophets (alayhim salaam). That person may think fasting is stupid but it was good enough for Jesus (alayhi salaam) or that hijab is stupid but one of the purest women of God’s creation, Mary (alayha salaam) observed it. But alhamdulillah, I met well adjusted, practicing Muslims later on that helped me on my path to Islam. Those particular Muslims weren’t aware of the sacrifices of those who came before us–especially in regard to those captured Muslim slaves.
Your heart will break when you read about Muslims who were beaten for performing the daily prayer. What about our sisters who were fully clothed in Africa? They were stripped naked and raped by merchant sailors and slave masters. Their lives were expendable and they were only given a meager portion of food a day. Despite the humiliation, depression and grief of servitude, many of those slaves fulfilled their religious duties. For those slaves that earned a little money, the Muslim slaves preferred to use it to purchase pens and ink to make copies of surahs rather than drowning their sorrows in alcohol. They led huge revolts in the Americas. Before preparing for battle on those terrible plantations, they made ghusl and wore white clothes so that they could prepare themselves for death rather than return to servitude. Some slaves slaughtered their own meat rather than eat the slop that was given to them. Many of them fasted the month of Ramadan while picking cotton or cutting sugar cane.
In light of all this, do we have the right to say that our situation is so drastically different that we can’t make the same sacrifices? How can some of us not even attempt to fast when others fasted under horrific conditions? How can we completely kill off the prayer when those who came before us prayed with the knowledge that they could be killed or whipped? I chose to discuss the plight of African slaves because their struggle is more recent in our umma’s history. Also, I chose them and not the Sahaba (may God bless them) so that no one could come with the excuse of “well, back then things were different.”
I certainly don’t deny the dangers that come with practicing this religion in America, but the fact remains that after 9/11, you could still go to the mosque. If such an attack occurred in some other place, the government would have closed the mosques and prevented people from congregational prayer. Despite the ridiculous media campaign against us, your employer can’t fire you going for to Friday prayer or for wearing a beard. If they do, alhamdulillah, you can file a complaint and/or sue them! Despite all the negativity, people are still entering into Islam and we (at this moment) can still establish it without too much trouble. And if you think it’s hard trying to find a Muslim to marry, remember that the ratio of slaves was seven men for every three women and only a third of them were Muslim. Most of our Muslim slave ancestors remained bachelors for lack of Muslim sisters or they married Christian or animist women knowing that they couldn’t pass on the religion to their children.
So yes, there are times when my nafs starts complaining, as it will always do when I turn off the TV, when I pray beyond the obligatory, when I fast or do anything remotely beneficial for the afterlife. But when I think about those who came before me and all they did to make sure that they died in a state of submission, I can’t help but feel like our current troubles pale in comparison. Our current situation is difficult but we shouldn’t act as if our times are so unique that we can’t draw inspiration from those who came before us. I promise you, somewhere in the world there’s a sister, crying her eyes out, in prayer to her Lord as bombs fall all around her. What excuse, what reason will we have for God on the Day of Judgment for our lack of faith and action other than “But in America….”?
{extended} ]]>
(Daddy’s Little Girl by Frankie J)
Gasping for air in the middle of the night, Hoda’s screams shook the house. Hoda’s parents rushed to her room in frenzy. With red puffy eyes, Hoda whimpered and looked up at her terrified father and threw herself in his arms. “Promise, daddy, that you will never leave me?”
But he did anyway, didn’t he?
Hoda’s parents had a huge argument that night. Hurtful words were exchanged between the struggling couple. They thought the children had gone to bed, but Hoda was wide awake. She heard it all—their plan to divorce, her mother’s demand for money, her father’s pleas to keep the family bond, her father’s threats to leave and disappear forever; her mother’s crying.
Hoda started having nightmares.
The months to come after the dark night are vague in her mind. All she remembers is her grandmother moving-in, her father moving-out and her recurring nightmares every night. She was now falling behind at school; her grades were poor. Nothing was the same.
She remembers her father coming back with uncles and aunts to reconcile, but with no avail. The divorce was inevitable. No matter how hard she prayed, worked on school work and did her chores. Their family was broken forever and now her daddy was leaving her.
Hoda blamed herself for the divorce. She remembers the last time she saw her father. It was a gloomy night. They met at her grandmother’s home. Her father had tried to convince her mother, one last time, to bring their family back together. But her parents started fighting once again. Her father stormed out of the house, angry.
Hoda rushed to the balcony, maybe she could fix this, it was her last chance. “He will surely come back for his little darling girl” she reasoned. As loud as she could scream, “daddy, daddy, daddy come back,” but he didn’t hear her. He walked away. He left his little girl to face the world all alone.
“Oh daddy why did you leave me, you promised?
**
I used to envy my friend Hoda in the fifth grade. Her parents had divorced earlier that school year. Somehow after her parents’ divorce she became the center of attention of every teacher and student. Teachers excused her tardiness and incomplete homework; suddenly, everyone wanted to be Hoda’s friend. I so wanted to be in Hoda’s place, someone ‘special.’ But how wrong was I to wish something so painful? I was only a foolish child to think of divorce as a game. Any child of a divorced household can see the pain in Hoda’s story, but isn’t divorce sometimes the best solution to a marriage gone bad. The implications of a negative household, on the children, is worse than the separation.
I pray that we stay strong in our families.
{extended} ]]>
It was really hard for Selina to face the reality that was staring at her. Buckets of tears must have fallen from her beautiful face since then day she lost her baby. Carrying him for nine months, it was extremely hard to come back from the hospital without him in her arms. She had waited for five years for him. Never had it occurred to her that her delight was temporary. Never.
She had prepared a beautiful fully carpeted nursery room, filled with baby-blue color, decorated with wallpaper that spells joy, happiness and love.
The babies’ clothes are ready to be worn; a rocking chair is set for her to lullaby her baby. The cot is there with the fluffiest pillow and mat she could find. Even the stroller is waiting for the baby.
Just one thing is missing. Her son. Her precious little son.
Selina could not bear it anymore that Sunday afternoon. She felt that her faith was going downhill and she hated the whispers of Shaytaan that seem to be haunting her mind. So, she picked up the phone and called her best friend, Saira.
“ It’s too hard, Saira. I don’t think I can take it anymore.” Selina sobbed uncontrollably.
“Sweetheart, I know it must be very painful for you. I cannot say I can totally feel your pain, but I can understand how painful this is for you. Remember that nothing in this world is ours dear. Nothing. Everything is owned by Allaah and to Him we shall all return one day. It so happen that baby Khaleed’s time has come. Be patient honey” Saira gave her usual wise advice gently.
“I know that Saira. But my heart just cannot accept it. It just refused to…”
Saira then reminded Selina of one advice of their beloved Prophet SAW,
“Truly amazing is the affair of the believer. His affair only contains good. If he is blessed with good he thanks God and in that there is good. And if he is afflicted with difficulty he patiently endures and in that there is good.” (Sahih Muslim)
**************************************
Subhanallaah my fellow friends, isn’t our Prophet Muhammad SAW advice wonderful?
Our beloved Prophet SAW says that our affairs only contain good. That’s the keyword. Contain ONLY good. Correct me if I am wrong but it sure feels like it means nothing bad could ever happen to us, right?
It is like a ‘Certificate of Peace-of-Mind’ with condition- patience! Think about it.
Maybe Selina, in the midst of her grief hasn’t been really thinking about what Prophet Muhammad SAW has said. But, InshaAllaah, if she takes the time to ponder in deeper thoughts, she would be able to find so much peace with just this one advice.
She would understand that the demise of her new born son was for a reason she could not understand now, but, if she is able to endure this trial of life with patience, she would see one day that all that had happened was for a good reason. Allaahu ‘alaam.
My friends, can you too, feel the positive outlook in life that Prophet (SAW) has given us? His words could make us dash towards future with courage and zest written all over us! Why not, right? Should any setback happen; we would just compose ourselves and continue with our journey, because, hey, why worry, our affairs only contain good!
His affair only contains good. Isn’t that what Prophet SAW said? MashaAllaah, this is really great.
I love the feeling of confidence that the advice has prepared me with as I make my way through the unknown territories in my own life. No wonder Prophet SAW used the word Truly amazing. It is just simply so true! Amazing!
Let me share with you a story of a sweet grandma and her outlook in life. Perhaps we could learn a thing or two from her. Read on…
There was once a grandma who has only three strands of hair. So, she decided to braid her hair. The next day, she was left with two hair so she centre-parted them. The third day, there was one hair left so she made a ponytail. Next day, she woke up with no hair, so she said, ”Finally bald! How wonderful! Now, I won’t have to waste time doing my hair any more”
Positive thinker? You bet! Truly Amazing, isn’t it?
Copyright © Sis Zabrina 2007
Now blogging at http://www.wisdomthruwords.blogspot.com
~Your Source for Islamic Motivational and Inspirational Stories~
{extended} ]]>Sometimes we are so bogged down with causes that many of us throw up our hands and do nothing. What’s worse is that some of us are so tired of “Muslim Inactivism” that we leave the Muslim community and/or Islam because of the perception that Muslims aren’t trying to alleviate our problems. We must not forget that as Muslims living in Western societies, we, too fall victim to the media bias which makes all Muslims out to be corrupt and uncaring of the world around them. We forget that it’s much more newsworthy to report bombings and riots rather than Muslims opening up soup kitchens and women’s shelters. I wrote about this issue in a blog post entitled Muslim Inactivism Revisited. Here’s a little section of it.
“There are many reasons why many of us do not get involved with our communities. Sometimes, I think it’s because we are “caused out.” Do ya know what I mean? We have too many causes. There’s the daily oppression of the Palestinians being funded by our tax dollars, the suffering of the Chechnyans, the plight of guest workers and servants in Muslim countries, and the famines in Niger and Mali. Don’t forget the conflict of Darfur, the crime and hopelessness among some of Europe’s Muslim youth, the torture of Muslims and Christians in Uzbekistan, the destruction of holy sites in Saudi Arabia, the constant anti-Islamic media campaign in America, psychotic wanna be mujahideen killing innocent people, the endless violation of women’s rights in Islam and the teeming masses of Muslim refugees. We also have spouses and children to take care of, jobs and bills to pay. Add to all this mountain the daily striving of changing your condition in order to change yourself. Do you have a headache yet?”
Dear sisters (and brothers, too), you can’t save the world.
Repeat this statement over and over again. Do not misunderstand it because it is not a statement of despair. It is a statement to help you realize that you can only effect that which is within your immediate reach. You can only influence that which is within your circle of influence. Also, realize that your role is not small. Not by a long shot. Once you focus on that which you can change, you will realize just how big your scope of power and influence really is. Here is another excerpt from the Muslim Inactivism Revisited post.
I haven’t begun to address all the problems because they’re too many. So in a state of helplessness, many of us choose to do nothing at all and “leave it in the hands of Allah.” Everything is in the hands of Allah, whether we do something or not. The question is whether or not you will offer yourself as a tool for creative, positive change in society rather than sitting on the sidelines and letting history and opportunity pass you by. We need to take a deep breath, sit down and seriously think about improving things that are within our reach.
The world is in Allah’s care and He has a divine plan for us all. Accept it. You can’t save the world but that doesn’t mean that you can’t help the world. As someone who has only been a Muslim and activist for a short amount of time, I can only give a little bit of advice. I would recommend that you focus only on those things which you feel most passionate about. If you are passionate about women’s rights, pursue it. If you have the energy, drive and money, go to the countries of interest and help them. But if you’re like most Muslims in the West, there’s plenty of jobs to fill right here within our communities. You can volunteer to teach classes to Muslim youth on any subject—religion, language, art—even martial arts! Just last weekend, some teenage Muslimas got together and threw a Hijabapalooza party, complete with a bazaar to sell their poetry books, artwork, desserts and of course, hijabs! That one evene taught them how to enhance their creativity and business skills. How about feeding the homeless and there are millions of homeless people, right here. Or mayeb you are heavy into political activism—try to find some liked minded people and see if you discover your political niche. Whatever you do, don’t take on too many causes because you will spread yourself too thin and eventually quit due to exhaustion and fatigue.
Remember, God will only hold you accountable for that which you can control. I know we want to save everybody from the poor child in Pakistan to the struggling single mother in New York. But maybe if everyone took responsibility for their own, there wouldn’t be a need for so many causes.
It doesn’t take much. Trust me…here’s a little story from my friend Aaminah to show you that it can be done.
Asalaamu alaikum.
I would like to give an example, if I may, of how doing something - anything - is better than nothing. Locally, a sister I had never even met recently did something quite wonderful in response to the Pakistan earthquake. She used her connections in the community, not just with Muslims, to find musicians and dance groups of several cultural backgrounds (it included Hindu, Indonesian, Polynesian, Native American, Mexican, Kurdish etc.) and talked to a local community theatre to let her use their space. She produced an event that was open to the public, promoted mainly by word of mouth, for an evening of multi-cultural entertainment. The entrance cost was $15, and that complete fee went towards the charity - the theatre didn’t charge her for the space and threw in help with the technical stuff, the dancers all volunteered, and a few local restaurants donated food. It was a beautiful event, full of people from all different backgrounds. Even some local policy makers attended. This was created by one sister, one who doesn’t even feel comfortable in the mosque, and yet outside the mosque, it was the most Muslims I’ve ever seen in one place, mingling with people from all over. And it raised a good amount of money too that all went directly to a Muslim aid group working in Pakistan. One woman, with vision and hard work, created a wonderful thing that did more than most of us do in our entire lives despite all our talk.
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Kelly Izdihar Crosby is an artist, but is probably better know on the internet as the blogger, Izzy Mo.
I chatted with Kelly about being a fairly new convert to Islam and the reactions of her family to her conversion and her celebrating Ramadan.
You may visit her online store at IzzyMo Designs.
{extended} ]]>“G. Willow Wilson is an American author and essayist based in Egypt. Her articles about modern religion and the Middle East have appeared in publications including the Atlantic Monthly, the New York Times Magazine and the Canada National Post.”
{extended} ]]>(from her blog) About Organic: “crazy Egyptian Alexandrian Muslim American girl with too many labels. I like to talk a lot and I am easily amused. I love people and I love children. I would die for you, if you only ask. I want to make a difference and inshAllah will someday. I love Allah, Al Wadud.”
{extended} ]]>Ramadan is the month of Quran, repentance and worship. Duaa (supplication)and promises are made to our Creator. The gates to Jannah are open; the gates of hell are shut. Ramadan is the month every Muslim wishes to achieve through fasting and lots of prayer. Ramadan is a month of purification in every meaning of the word.
Ramadan is very personal to me. As a child, Ramadan meant early school dismissal and a new cool looking fanous (lantern) for myself. As an adolescent, it was a month of struggle. I didn’t find taraweeh prayers as fun as my favorite boy band concert, or a fitting thing to regard among my cool friends! (I won’t blame peer pressure entirely here) Slowly as I matured and learned about the beauty of Ramadan is when I started fully appreciating the fruits of the holy month. I remember the nights I cried because I couldn’t make it to the congregational prayers. SubhanAllah, how life and the meaning of Ramadan has changed for me.
As the Holy month approaches in a couple of days. I can’t help but reminisce the days of my childhood, adolescence and adulthood. “What will this month bring for me this year?” I wonder. I am fully aware that Ramadan is a psychological state that helps us do things we normally won’t do outside the holy month. Like regularly visiting the mosque, calling friends and family to wish them a blessed month and doing extra charity. Life has become so hectic that sometimes we need a holiday, a month, to dedicate to these small, yet important things. Sadly, for some people Ramadan has taken the meaning of overeating and more overeating.
Sometimes I wonder, what type of meaning of Ramadan will I pass on to my children? Will it be the month we eat an extravagant dinner late? Or the month we dedicate to Quran, prayers and fasting. I am not sure to tell you the truth, but I am sure of one thing—that I must model this great meaning I want them to learn. This year, as an Aunt to many Muslim children, instead of my regular material gifts, I plan to give them each a dollar to donate in the Mosque sadaqah box. The best gift is to teach a child to be generous to all those less fortunate people in the world.
Dear reader, Ramadan is your chance to change. If you have already created a meaning for your Ramadan, it’s never too late to improve it. I personally can’t tell you how excited I am for this coming Ramadan. Because today, as an adult, Ramadan means the month of getting closer to my Lord. I get to bow down, cry to Him and feel safe again. I feel His presence everywhere. I get to laugh with Him and thank Him, Al Kareem, for everything He has blessed me with in my life. Alhumdulilah.
Ramadan Kareem everyone and I hope you find your meaning to Ramadan this year.
P.S: Please pray for all the victims in the world.
{extended} ]]>Almontaser was asked a question about a t-shirt she had nothing to do with that said “Intifada in New York” and she responded truthfully and eloquently about the origin and meaning of the word intifada in the Arabic language. Her critics seized upon her explanation because she did not include the now required caveat for all Muslims and Arabs and other people that look brown that she did not support terrorism. Since then, her character has been maligned and she was maliciously attacked and accused of supporting terrorism even though she has a considerable body of interfaith work.
During the Islam in the West conference this past June in Somerset, New Jersey, Hamza Yusuf commented that we have failed as a community to convey our religion and have allowed others to convey what Islam is not.
Hamza Yusuf then raised some interesting questions: Who are the chairs of African American Studies departments in the universities? African Americans. Jewish Studies? Jews. Seminaries? Christians. If you go to a large bookstore in the US, in the Christian section, all the books are positive. In the Jewish section, all the books are positive. In the Buddhist section, the books are glowing. The Dali Lama is such a nice man. When people think of Buddhism, they think Dali Lama. When people think of Christianity they think of the Pope and Mother Theresa. When they think of Hinduism they think of Gandhi.
Who do people think of when they hear the word Islam? Men with hoods and AK-47s. We need to change that.
It is precisely this incorrect and biased image that curtailed the Dubai Ports World deal and forced Debbie Almontaser to resign her position. I am reminded of a line from the Nathaniel Hawthorne’s book The Crucible in which John Proctor says to Reverend Hale, “I never knew until tonight that the whole world is gone daft with this nonsense.”
Mona Eltahawy: Arab Principal was a Casualty of Fear
Samuel G. Freedman: Critics Ignored Record of a Muslim Principal
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August 29th, 2007 marks the two year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina and its legacy of devastation on the American Gulf Coast. I can’t believe that it has already been two years since my family and I were forced to evacuate New Orleans. Prior to Hurricane Katrina, I never lived in another city for a long period of time. New Orleans had always been in my home. Currently, I’m living in Atlanta, Georgia, like so many other Katrina evacuees. My family, friends and I have since recovered our worldly belongings and have resettled in different places all throughout the United States. Some of my other friends are still there in New Orleans, studying and sticking it out. I pray for them and my city. I pray that things will get better but I can’t help but feel like I have abandoned my hometown.
I went back for a visit in April 2007. It was wonderful. New Orleans seemed to be wounded but healing. It was springtime so all of the beautiful flowers were in bloom. The air was thick and humid—typical Southern heat. The old French cottage homes and Greek revival mansions were being repaired. The French Quarter was bustling with joy-seeking tourists, performance artists and musicians. The revelry and carefree spirit that New Orleans is known for has been resurrected. But beyond the French Quarter was my neighborhood—Gentilly. There was also the Ninth Ward, the area made infamous by the drowning of so many working class African-Americans. Compared to the fun and festivity of the French Quarter, the Ninth Ward and Gentilly seemed as silent as a tomb.
All those old feelings of anger and frustration began to resurface. I hadn’t been back for more than a day and I was already on the brink of tears. I thought if I could get angry so fast, how are the people dealing with this injustice? They have to experience it every single day. They have to experience the failing schools, corrupt politicians, shyster insurance agents out of control crime. They have to deal with the rapes, robberies and drug trafficking that have plagued the city since long before Katrina came to shore. If I could get so upset at a single moment of reflection—the truth that this current administration doesn’t care my city, its suffering citizens and the insanity of it all—how do the locals deal with it on a daily basis? I hope that God rewards their tears, prayers and work with his generous blessings because the people of the Gulf South are rebuilding it all by themselves.
My old next door neighbor decided to stay. Alhamdulillah, someone bought our house and they have decided to renovate it. My other next door neighbor’s has since been torn down. All that remains is an empty, grass covered lot. On each block of these neighborhoods, you will see abandoned houses, one after another. And on each block, one house, owned by determined strong-willed people, is newly renovated. They look like rubies in an endless sea of stones. My folks have since decided that they put in their many years into New Orleans and that it was time to move on. I, on the other hand, am still torn.
Part of me wants to return. Part of me feels guilty because I survived. By the grace of God, I survived! So did my family and friends. I remember those weeks when I tried my best not to entertain those nightmares of thinking of my father’s corpse floating in the water. I watched the news coverage knowing that I would see the face of an old friend or teacher who was stuck in their home at the Superdome or Convention Center. When I reflect on that turbulent year of trying to get back on my feet and getting used to life in Georgia, sometimes I feel like I made it out of there like a bandit. I lost all my worldly goods only to have them returned to me double, even triple fold. I’ve since moved on to a better life while thousands never had that option. Many New Orleans residents are homeless and left as prey for criminals who feed and are fed off of the misery of the desperate. Land grabbers are just waiting for them to give up their properties so that they can gentrify their neighborhoods for rich locals and tourists.
As a so-called activist and someone who claims to care about her people and her town, I still don’t know where I stand. I had always planned to leave New Orleans for a while so that I could discover other parts of America and the world. But this plan was based on the idea that I would have a city to go return to once my lust for travel and exploration was satisfied. Although I know that returning would mean the possibility of finding a job, dealing with a crime-ridden city and the malaise and depression of living in a place that care has forgotten—I still feel this obligation. It’s as if I’ve walked out on a marriage that’s hit a rough spot. And I don’t know whether feelings are normal or justified.
I guess I won’t have it all featured out until time and God’s mercy permits to understand it all. I had always envisioned owning a beautiful French cottage in Gentilly, sitting on the porch in the warm September sun, painting a picture and soaking in the humid heat. I miss so many things about New Orleans but I fear that returning at this point will be a mistake and that I will grow frustrated at the slow response and return to Georgia where there is some sense of normalcy. If God permits, I will return. If not permanently then at least as often as I can get there. I guess I do realize what it means to miss New Orleans.
{extended} ]]>“Hello, As Salaamu ‘alaykum dad” I answered the phone, recognizing his number on my mobile
“ ‘Alaikum salaam dear. Have you waken up for fajr?” questioned my father
“Yes, actually, I just finished my prayer, alhamdulillaah. How are you dad?” I asked
“I am fine dear. Alhamdulillaah. I have got to inform you of something” he replied
“What is it?” my heart pounded as I sensed that something was wrong
“Its about your cousin, Noni. Her husband just passed away a few minutes ago”
“You mean, Aca? Inna lillaahi wa inna ilaihi raaji’un. Really? What happened, dad?” I asked in disbelieved
“He just collapsed while waiting for his turn to use the bathroom. He was just about to perform his ablution for the fajr prayer”
I cannot believe my ears. Aca was my cousin’s husband, only aged 32, had died of what is known famously as the number one killer in this modern world - the heart attack.
These past few weeks, my family circle and friends have been struck with multiple events of death. The first death was my cousin’s husband, aged 32. The second was my neighbour’s son, aged 4 and the third death was my distant relative, aged 80. All these death happened within a span of a month.
No matter how many times Allaah has reminded us with His warnings of our deaths that might just be lurking around the corner, we still, as human, cannot overcome the grief and shocked when faced with this reality of life.
Allaah has stated numerous times in His Holy Book, the Quran Al-Kareem, reminding us all about death.
Every soul shall have a taste of death: in the end to Us shall ye be brought back. [Surah 29 (The Spider) : Verse 57]
The death of her husband has left my cousin, Noni, who is still so young and is 8-months-pregnant, in a state of shocked. Why wouldn’t she? Her husband suddenly collapsed and died in the wee hours in the morning in her lap. He was a very healthy young man, active and was full of life. My neighbour was devastated when she received a phone call from home relaying the news that her son, Aniq, age 4, died suddenly after happily chasing around his younger brother around the coffee table. Aniq had developed sudden difficulty in breathing and was rushed to the hospital where he was pronounced dead upon arrival. And my distant relative, a grandmother to ten beautiful grandchildren, died from old age and the incurable disease called cancer.
I knew all of these people personally. They are of different age, are in different stages of their lives, died from very different reason, and all died at different time. But, their endings were all the same. They went to face their Lord, their Creator at the appointed time as per agreed with their Lord. Not a day delayed. Not even a second postponed from the appointed time.
I remembered Allaah’s warning to us…
He is the Irresistibly Supreme over His servants, and He sets guardians over you. At length, when death approaches one of you, Our angels take his soul, and they never fail in their duty. [Surah 6 (The Cattle) : Verse 61]
They never fail in their duty…These very words kept on humming in my mind
as I thought about death and my own life.
I looked around me and realized how short lives are for all of us. We lived our moments everyday, thinking that we are able to see the next day’s sunrise, or thinking that we are able to ride the train we took daily to school or work, or we are going to make it to the next meeting scheduled by our office, or maybe perhaps winning that critical qualifying game in our soccer tournament next week.
Rarely that we realized that maybe, just maybe, this day is our last day on this earth. This day is the last day we are going to make that train ride. This is the last sun rise that we are going to see. This is the last sip of drink that we are ever going to have. Or this is the last phone call we will ever make to a loved one.
Ibn ‘Umar used to say, “In the evening, do not anticipate the morning, and in the morning do not anticipate the evening. Take from your health for your illness and from your life for your death.” [al-Bukhari] Taken from Riyad as-Salihin
Though I know, in my subconscious mind, life is short, but the occurrences that are happening in front of my eyes coupled with the many news of death in the newspaper nowadays, made me realized more than ever that the reality in life is obvious - life is swift and is not worth for us to love it unconditionally.
As I was reflecting on my cousin’s death, whom I last met just a few months back during a family gathering, I cannot help but felt deeply saddened. He was full of zest in life. He was talking about the new business that he just ventured into and his intention of buying some properties for his wife. And to top it all up, he mentioned his excitement over the baby his wife was about to deliver. Nobody thought that he would leave us all so suddenly.
Some people might say that his death was premature or an untimely death. Is that really the case? Is there any such thing as pre-matured death?
“Wherever ye are, death will find you out, even if ye are in towers built up strong and high!” If some good befalls them, they say, “This is from Allah”.; but if evil, they say, “This is from thee” (O Prophet). Say: “All things are from Allah.” But what hath come to these people, that they fail to understand a single fact? [Surah 4 (Women) : Verse 78]
Death will find us. No matter where we are. Even if we built tower strong and high, it will not help us. This is the reality. And maybe someone should tell Mr. James Bond how very wrong he was in one of his blockbuster movie - “Die Another Day” because we can never negotiate our timing of death.
So, in the end, it all boils down to this fact. Our life here in this world is temporary in nature. If this is temporary, it means we would not be here for long. Just like the reminder left by our beloved Prophet Muhammad SAW to us…
Ibn ‘Umar said, “The Messenger of Allah, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, took me by the shoulder and said, ‘Be in this world as if you were a stranger or a traveller on the road.” Riyad as-Salihin
And a traveler, we all must be…
Allaahu ‘alaam.
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