The Not so Little Things

Bismihi Ta’ala


Part 84

Life is so uncertain.

If nothing else, it was one amazing lesson that I learnt from Zubair… the days when everything felt so new and amazing and I couldn’t imagine how I was so blessed to finally be there with him, that he wouldn’t miss a single chance to show me everything that he needed to, when it came to how he felt for me.

One thing I learnt during those days was that to keep going strong, didn’t always mean big, grand gestures that shifted the world. Girls get carried away by diamonds and perfumes and all the expensive stuff that are meant to prove love, but Zubair showed me that sometimes there was more truth in small, consistent things that made the world of a difference.

Little things like 5am sunrises and 7pm sunsets where you’ll be blown away by. Little things like Sunday morning motor-bike rides and on-a-whim road trips, and the feeling of wind in your open hair. Little things like the high you get off making someone else feel good, and for being the kind of people who make others realise that maybe the world is not such a harsh and cruel place after all…

It was always a tough call to make, but whether it’s a small act of kindness that was shown, or a little deed that is done that may just make your Jannah… living for the little things sometimes will make you realise that its those small things that make you feel alive…

There were tiny, beautiful gestures that he always made a habit. From the Tahajjud wakings, to the breakfasts in bed, and the post it notes that had the most amazing inspiration, Zubair’s character shone through in even through the not so little things he did.

And while I wished that I had a longer honeymoon period where I could just enjoy it and be with him unreservedly, soaking him in, but I knew that reality would intervene sooner than I thought, and his busy life would take over.

And although real life was quick to come into play, what helped was that in between, there were always the moments of fairy-tale like bliss and the cutest Fajr time conversations that made me feel like I was living a Muslim couple goals blog.

It was the little things like that that made me feel like I really was living a world where every problem that existed was so far away from us. When I lay next to him, in the dead of the night, while he would whisper to me incidents of his past, and sweet nothings as I curled up in his arms, it felt as if no one could ever touch us.

I didn’t know that life had a sneaky way of surprising us when we least expected it.

Just when I thought that things would be blissful forever, the next morning; his bed was already half empty, and instead, was the cutest little post it that was stuck on the lamp shade next to our bed, with a perfect sunflower right next to it.

I had no idea where he had found a fresh sunflower right then but reading the note made my heart bloom in more ways than the beautiful flower that was in front of me.

The past is the past. You and I are the future. Sometimes we find happiness in the most unassuming places. So grateful for you and everything you do for me. Alhumdulillah – Z 

My heart was already beating crazily as I read it, remembering the conversation we had the night before about his life and how he didn’t expect to get to where he was right then. Though we spent any free moment he had getting to know about each other, me pushing him to tell me about his childhood, his ambitions and everything I didn’t know, it didn’t ease the pain I felt when I heard it.

His life story was long and tragic and just thinking about it made me feel all sorts of emotional for the little boy that was once so lost. Every trial he faced, every time he felt hurt or rejected, and every little encounter that made him feel less than he was, was designed to build him into a better and stronger person. But it didn’t make it any less pitiful.

It explained why he didn’t always share what he did, or give more of himself. He was secretive to the point of exhaustion, and even thought I desperately wanted to know what he was doing for Hamzah, I knew he would never tell me, which made me resort to sneaky methods of finding out.

That day, Zubair had already left for his early morning routine in the gym Papa had once used at the end of the barn, and I knew that this meant that this was Zubair trying to say that it was time for him to get back to his usual routine, because he was a man who thrived in a disciplined kind of lifestyle.

But the little things still remained, as even in terms of my ibaadat, as I started my day with the Qur’ān that I had brought from home because the one Zubair owned was the one that he took everywhere with him. I had learnt that the reason he did that his reason for this was because whenever there came a time that he needed an answer, all he had to do was open the Qur’ān and all answers would come to him without even having to ask.  All we had to do was trust our Rabb and everything would sort itself out.

And though I missed Zubair already, I ignored the lovesick puppy vibes and dove into my recitation because I knew that whatever trials today would hold could only be solved through that. All success was from Allah. Through the little time we dedicated to Allahs worship during the mornings, we always make intention that it will build the foundation for a successful day.

And that’s what I was psyching myself up for today.

As I peeped in to the coffee shop, watching him see to customers, I couldn’t resist popping in between to offer him little spurts of affection in intermittent doses, despite his protests that I was distracting him.

My heart had been irrevocably stolen by the stories of who he was once… a young boy who lost his mother far too young, and grew up far too jaded than I’d like to think. I wanted to save him, to win him over, and to fix all those broken pieces of him that he couldn’t seem to fit back together himself. But first, I just wanted my sisters marriage to be okay, as much as Zubair himself wanted it.

That said, there were two things that I learnt about Zubair that I knew were most important for the current situation:

One. Zubair was trying every thing he could to save my sisters marriage.

Two. Zubair had painful secrets from the past that he hid excessively well.

What I learnt about myself was that I would stop at nothing to find out every one of those secrets that weighed him down, only so that I could shift the weight off those shoulders off his once and for all.

I had loitered around the coffee shop for most of the day, technically on my day off, but not able to stay away because of who was on duty.

Yes. I was officially obsessed.

Plus, those little love post-it’s were kind of making me swoon every time I caught a glimpse of them.

My mind was also consumed by everything I knew and even what I didn’t yet know, yet the urge to do something about it all was overwhelming me. I wanted Zubair to so badly make up with his father. It was something that I recognised as a deep desire in his heart, but there was something else that I recognised about them. They were both but from the same cloth, and that meant that neither of them was going to make the first move when it came to making up. His father seemed like he was a decent man who had just been scarred by the past. I refused to believe that he wanted nothing to do with his son.

What irked me more was that when I told Zubair that I wanted him to work things out, he had pinched my cheeks and told me that I was too cute for words. And I wanted to hit him.

Zubair was only three years older than I but he acted as if I was a little child. I would show him that I wasn’t. I would show him that I wasn’t a little girl with idealistic ideas and rose tinted glasses. That somehow, those dreams I had and idealistic thoughts would somehow materialise.

Most of all, I wanted Zubair to be the one who would benefit from it. He was the one who ultimately needed the saving. How do I help him, without actually interfering in his life?

I had retreated to the entrance of the kitchen later that morning, bored and needing to see my parents as a distraction. I sat for a few minutes at the back of the garden, under my favourite jacaranda tree, watching the stillness in the distance as the birds teetered around me, digesting everything before I entered the house again. It was weird to stay on the same property as my parents but Papa loved that I was there. Although Zubair had said that he wanted to give me my own house at some stage, he was worried about safety, and there was nowhere else that he felt safer right then.

A single flick of my scarf had loosened a sticky note that was probably stuck on me, and I couldn’t help but smile as I saw it.

You are my favourite place to be. – Z


I blushed and peeled it off to stick it at the back of my phone, catching the arrival of a new message a few minutes ago, hoping it would be my sister who didn’t reply to me from yesterday, but seeing Maahira’s name instead.

I instantly opened the message because it had been that long since I heard from her, and I really had missed her since I came from London. We’d barely chatted.

Maahira: Jamz. R u done swooning over your new man? Are the pyjamas stil in one piece? *winking emoji*
Where is my friend? I have some big news 2share.

I typed back a quick reply.

Stop. You’re making me blush. Mos is awol. I’m hoping her husband romanced her into oblivion. Tell me instead.

I knew it wasn’t fair but Maahira was making me curious and I really wanted to know her big news.

Maahira: Der have been some developments in the Samoosa run dept. I wanted her opinion.

Me: What about my opinion?

I waited a few seconds for Maahira’s reply.

We love you, Jameela, but you’re way too sweet and unassuming 2 handle this kind of drama.

Should I have been offended? This sweet and innocent perception of me was actually starting to get to me. Literally everyone …. And that means from my parents, to Mos and even Zubair, felt this insane and unfair need to shelter me from the world. It was as if they didn’t believe that I could handle reality.

My phone buzzed again.

Maahira: Let me know when you chat 2 her.  N tel her 2 stop ignoring her social media apps. I hav a feelin that Hamzah’s non-existence is rubbing off onto her. She hasn’t been online since yest.

Hamzah hated social media, and everyone knew that. And also, I was beginning to hate everyone treating me like a child.

I typed back quickly. Although she had literally called me an inexperienced infant, I needed to desperately confide in someone. I didn’t have many friends that I could speak to about this, and Mohsina was completely ignoring her phone.

Me: Wait, don’t go.

I typed quickly before she could ignore me. There was so much on my mind and there was no one better to ask right now but Maahi. It was a moment of truth.

I need to ask you about something important. I heard Zubair talking to Faadil on the phone. I wanted to know something.

Maahira’s reply took a while.

Maahira: Mhm. Can’t say I kno awl the answers..

But she may know this one.

Me: I just wanted to know who broke it off between him and Mos. He seemed to think that he was the one who didn’t want it anymore. But I remember otherwise when he came back for her. I feel he’s covering something up and Zubair is telling me nothing so I can’t even clear it up. 

Somehow, after knowing that Zubair was onto Faadil, I got this strange feeling that it was really important that I knew the truth. The fear that Faadil was actually sabotaging her relationship, with the help of who-knows-what-else, was haunting me.

Maahira’s reply took a while to come, but when it did, it was a lot to digest.

All I remember was Mos waiting for him at the apartment da one night after he met up with some woman (don’t ask, you’re too young for this talk and it was awkward asl to bring it up with her), and the next morning, she was at da hospital when Layyanah passed away, and she never mentioned him after. If I know Mos, I assumed she would have told the tiger on the prowl to take a hike coz she had too much else on her mind than to worry about him gettin what he wanted elsewhere. The next thing, her and Hamzah were fighting over who would be da better parent to Zaidoo n the rest is history.

I smiled at the last part, ignoring the wrenching in my gut at the mention of Faadil’s constant infidelity. Haraam always comes back to bite you in the behind, and I made a silent Duaa thanking Allah Ta’ala that I hadn’t went with my nafs and got to know Zubair before Nikah. The fact that everything was halaal and untainted was something that brought me immense comfort. I could not imagine the torment that Hamzah and Mohsina sometimes went through. Yes, they had both been wrong and been involved in haraam, but they made it right and I just hoped that they didn’t have to pay for it.

Even though it was history, from what I heard overheard Zubair say on the phone, it seemed like it wasn’t history to Faadil. He seemed to think that it was still unfinished business that desperately needed digging up.

I got up and typed in a quick reply to Maahira, thanking her for telling me and knowing that I would have to dig up more from Zubair if I wanted to help. I just wished that he trusted me more to let me in on everything that he was doing.

I slowly ventured into the house as I tucked my phone in my pocket, feeling a little out of sorts as I thought about everything Maahira had said. Hamzah and Mohsina were perfect for each other. Everything had proven that, and now that Mohsina had changed so much, I knew that if things were to go back to her being alone, she would become that distant and unreachable career woman once again.

Pushing the kitchen door open, I had to blink again before I noticed Nani sitting on the chair in the middle of the kitchen, silently getting on with her task.

“Oh,” Nani said as she heard my greeting, her voice slightly strained as she looked up at me with a toss of her dupatta and she studied me way too briefly for my liking, walking into the kitchen with loose sweat pants and a tee. “So you decide to make appearance now. After two days, it’s like we don’t know who you are anymore.”

I rolled my eyes to myself as I came around to greet her. It was technically one full day. But if Nani saw me with my eyeballs halfway into my head, I would have never heard the end of it.

I peeped over her shoulder as I went to switch the kettle on, watching her rolling something, her fingers folding some new type of Samoosa. Now that the wedding was over, Nani had immediately gone back into Ramadhaan mode and the preparations put a sweet sense of tranquility in the air.

I loved this time of the year, that held so much of hope and opportunity. When the hearts would be cured from worldly obsessions, and the starving souls would be nourished once again.

Ramadhaan was coming and I could feel the sweetness seeping into the pores of my skin, hoping that my body would take the message and start sowing the seeds for the new month that was to come. I had to rid myself of all evil thoughts and throw myself into the parts where I prepared myself for nights of ibaadat and days of soul-cleansing. I could feel the illness in my heart that needed to be cured.  I was deeply in need of reformation and I could barely wait for the effect penetrate. I knew that I had to start somehow, and I made intention to start sowing now, so that I could reap the fruits in Ramadhaan.

Trying to shove away all putrid thoughts was step number one and as I tried my best to stop judging Nani’s obsession with savouries, and start to focus on myself. In fact, I was becoming so good at focusing on my own faults for those few minutes, as I rounded the corner of the kitchen isle, that I didn’t even notice how quiet the house was right then.

I hadn’t spoke to my parents from the previous evening and I had been pretty much absorbed in the dramas that Zubair had uncovered about Mohsina and Hamzah’s marriage. It was all still on my mind, that I barely even noticed Nani’s eyes looking slightly puffy and red, as she dabbed it with a tissue.

It took me a few minutes to actually process what was going on, as I watched her, eyes squinted, still not able to fully comprehend the situation. Whatever I thought I was seeing was a very rare occurrence, and were it not for the obvious signs, I would have probably thought I was seeing things, but very clearly noting that Nani was emotional, was an absolute shock to me.

Nani didn’t usually get emotional. Ever. Yes, she did have tantrums and get upset when we didn’t listen to her. She sometimes even manipulated us into doing things we never really wanted to do. But for her to actually express an emotion that spelt some kind of grief, was extremely rare. To see it, in the flesh, was something that literally sent a shiver down my spine.

What on earth was going on?

I had missed out something major while I was busy honeymooning with Zubair, and for the first time, I actually regretted being so obsessed with my roguishly handsome husband.

Perhaps if I’d paid a little attention other members in the household, I would have known exactly what was going on. I looked at Nani, questions swimming in my eyes as she refused to meet my eye, understanding that there was probably a deeper reason for Ma and Papa being absent this morning.

“Nani,” I said, my voice shaky as I watched her almost robotically folding the square Samoosa, her gestures stunted and almost involuntary. I hadn’t noticed when I first entered, but now it was clear as day.

She sniffed and looked up at me, and I could tell without a doubt, that something major had happened.

“Nani, what’s happened?!” I asked, my voice almost frantic as I turned her shoulders to me, desperate for an answer. “Is everything okay? Where’s Papa?!”

Obviously, my first thought went to Papa, because there really was no other reason that could have evoked such a reaction.

”Papa is gone to Mohsina,” she said, her voice steady but feeling like a knife slicing through the air as she said my sister’s name. “To try and talk to her to change Hamzah’s mind.”

The puzzle pieces were slowly fitting into place.

Oh no. They knew about Hamzah and Mohsina. This explained it. It was all falling into place until I remembered what Nani had just said. As far as I knew, Hamzah wasn’t the one who wanted to leave. Why would they change his mind?

“To change Hamzah’s mind?!” I asked, looking at her in confusion. I understood the anger but Nani was just a little bit too bitter for me to digest. “Shouldn’t he be telling Mohsina to reconsider?”

Nani glared at me as I said it, shaking her head and clenching her fist as she said her next words.

”Hamzah was just here,” she whimpered in despair. “He came to greet me, and your parents. For good. He’s taking Zaid to his parents. Too much has happened, Jameela. It’s all Mohsina’s fault. I don’t know why Allah is punishing me like this…”

She broke down as she said it, and my heart contracted painfully as I watched her, holding my Nani as she wept into my shoulder, not even knowing what to say as I glimpsed a shadow at the back door.

“It’s just a test, Nani,” I said softly, not able to control the tears running down my own cheeks. “It’s only a test, and we’ll get through this. It will all be okay…”

Doesnt Allah say that He will test us? Are not all our luxuries just favours Allah has given us out of His mercy?

Indeed, He says that He will test us. With every single thing we own.

And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to As-Sabirun (the patient).

Who, when afflicted with calamity, say: “Truly! To Allah we belong and truly, to Him we shall return.”

They are those on whom are the Salawat (i.e. who are blessed and will be forgiven) from their Lord, and (they are those who) receive His Mercy, and it is they who are the guided ones.”

(Quran, Surah al-Baqarah, 2:155-157)

“Make Sabr, Nani,” I whispered, trying to coax myself at the same time, not knowing if I could hold it together much longer. Hoping that this was just a little speedbump that would be sorted out when I spoke to Mohsina.

My own voice was shaky and uncertain as Zubair’s face rounded the corner right then, and it shocked me that I already knew him so well just by seeing his expression.

From by the slight slumping of his shoulders, I could already see the defeatist attitude that had overcome him, and that wasn’t something that Zubair often wore. I wasn’t sure how I had missed him, but it was as if the visit of Hamzah had brought so much more than he had ever imagined, and not in a positive way.

I breathed in as I consoled Nani, hoping that my parents could work some miracles, but knowing from the look in my husband’s eyes as he approached us, that this was a dead loss.

“Zubair, tell me it’s not true,” I murmured, swallowing back the emotion that was threatening to overcome me as I let go of Nani, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Tell me that Hamzah hasn’t changed his mind about saving their marriage.”

Zubair merely shook his head, avoiding my gaze as his browner iris lightened as he looked up at Nani’s emotional state, knowing that this wasn’t such a littel thing after all.

“I’m so sorry, Jameela,” he said softly. “I tried to do everything I can, but Hamzah already made up his mind. Something else came up last night.  He’s already signed the papers.”

Dearest Readers

My sincerest apologies about the delayed post. I could just not stay awake last night.

My deepest appreciation for all the readers who love this blog and await the posts and my only hope is that we all go home with the lessons that we learn and try and implement them. Please keep this weak author in your Duaas.

Much Love

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival: Thinking well of others 

Especially as these blessed months dawn upon us, we make extra effort to think good of others and make excuses for them. It’s easier said than done but we make Duaa that in this way, people will also think well of us.

Nabi Muhammad (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Beware of suspicion, for suspicion is the worst of false tales; and do not look for the others’ faults and do not spy, and do not be jealous of one another, and do not desert (cut your relation with) one another, and do not hate one another; and O Allah’s worshipers! Be brothers (as Allah has ordered you!”) (Bukhari)

To put it briefly, having good opinion of people implies:

  • Thinking positive of others
  • Avoiding suspicion and wrong assumptions of others
  • Giving others the benefit of the doubt

Sunnah of the month of Rajab 

Sayyiduna Anas Ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu) reports that Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) would recite the following supplication when the Month of Rajab would commence:

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

Allahumma baarik lana fi Rajaba wa Sha’bana wa balligh-na Ramadan

Translation: Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

(Shu’abul-Iman, Hadith: 3534, Ibnu Sunni, Hadith: 660, Mukhtasar Zawaid Bazzar, Hadith: 662, also see Al-Adhkar, Hadith: 549)

Someone asked Ali (RA): “How much was the Sahaba’s love for the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam)”

He replied: “By Allah! To us The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was dearer to us than our riches our children and our mothers, and was more cherishable than a drink of water at the time of severest thirst.”

SubhaanAllah… what perfect imaan they had… May Allah enable us to practise..💕

















A Special Acquaintance

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem 


Whenever I thought of my mother, even after so many years, it always brought on mixed emotions. Reading the letter, with all its sentiment was an experience that brought back memories I thought I couldn’t even recall. And yes, although I missed her… not really having that much to miss her about made it a bit easier.

Her name was Sarah. I always remembered her radiant, graceful and full of love. Before she got sick, I supposed many could say she was beautiful. Then, as the illness took over… well, everything changed.

When I started working for Rubeena, story time always brought back memories of my mother. Somehow, whenever I had read the story about beautiful Sarah (RA), the wife of Ibrahim (AS)… my mother crossed my mind.

And though the story of Ibrahim (AS) was an spectacular one with multiple lessons, what was most amazing for me was the incident where the couple migrated to Egypt, where there was a King who captured beautiful women. This migration was with Sarah, and It was said that he had told her that this tyrant was one who if he finds the husband with this woman, he will kill him.  Knowing this, and also bearing in mind that this man intended evil, Ibrahim (AS) had said to her: “Besides you and I, there are no other Muslims in this place, so you are my sister in Islam. You must tell him that I am your brother.”

The story of Ibrahim and Sarah (RA) in Egypt goes on to an incident that night, when the King tried to have his way with the beautiful Sarah. Through the will of Allah, as the King tried to advance toward her, his hand was suddenly stricken by paralysis.

SubhaanAllah. He asked her to pray to her God to relieve him, and he will leave her alone.

She did so, and he was cured of the paralysis. He then again tried to advance with evil intentions, but was struck by paralysis once again. Seeing this happen once more made him realise that this woman was no usual character…. seeing this awakened him to the fact that there was more about her than just some supernatural power.

And of course, reflecting on it again just made me realise how Allah can turn a situation completely around with His help. For years, Ibrahim (AS) had tried to no avail to get the people of his town to believe. Being the only Muslims at that time, Allah made the situation such that not only did he save them from the evil King… but Allah also granted them honour through him. He realised that the couple were pious people. This King was to be the one who had sent multiple gifts with Sarah, of which one was Hajar (AS), who was according to some narrations, his very own daughter and a princess of Egypt. And everyone knows what happened thereafter… that it was through her that came the descent of the most Noble Ambiyaa, and lastly, the Holy Prophet SAW… Final messenger of all time.

And all this… because of a man who never gave up on this Islam. A man who sacrificed much to spread the truth of one Allah. A man who submitted to Allah’s command in every way, through every walk of his life.

And this is the very basis of Islam. To obey Allah. No matter what. No matter how hard it may be.  To submit. To wholeheartedly adhere to the commandments of Allah, not only because He has stipulated such, but also because there is a great, great benefit in its execution. To stay away from what Allah has forbidden for us, is not only about abstaining from the temporary pleasure it can bring. What we don’t see is the bigger picture that Allah has full knowledge of. What we don’t see is the harm that Allah is saving us from in the long run.

And of course, as I sat with my favourite kids that Sunday of Aadam’s arrival, and read the story of Ibrahim (AS) once again, I couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe I was crying for more than one reason. I wasn’t too certain. All I knew was that I had removed myself from the mayhem that was going on downstairs, because getting in my mother-in-laws way was probably going to be disastrous today.

The thing is, in life, we never know when things will change. No human being has knowledge of the future. But, sometimes, it happens. Sometimes, we wake up, we face our fears. We take them by the hand. And we stand there waiting, hoping, ready for anything…

And sometimes it’s good to be scared. Sometimes, it’s healthy to be afraid. It means you still have something to lose. It means that there’s still something that you care enough about to be afraid to let go of..

I could hear my mother-in-law busy harping off instructions to the people who were there, and in a way I was glad she was occupied, so I wouldn’t have to undergo her scrutiny again.

I had taken special care in what I wore today. Simple, modest and elegant was the look I was going for. I knew that I would be judged by every person who was there today. It was a mere half hour before Aadam’s expected arrival and I could already hear the noise of incoming people downstairs… as I completed my Salaah, and silently wished for everything to go well.

I stepped out of the play room a little hesitantly now, not really knowing how to react to all the foreign faces. The kids were immediately diverted by a popcorn and candy floss machine, that had become a new trend at functions, and were already eating themselves sick. I finally left them in the ‘kiddies tent’, with Zaydaan still in my arms… a little hesitant about what to do next. I felt a bit lost. Rubeena wasn’t anywhere in sight and my mother-in-law was fussing over the decor.

My mother-in-law had stopped at nothing to plan the ‘perfect’ function. It was really ridiculous, and just plain extravagant.

“Everyone will want to meet him,” my mother-in-law had said, tossing back her perfect hair. “We have to accommodate for them. How will it look if we are unprepared?!”

I was just glad that I had Zaydaan to hold onto, and to keep me company, and even more ecstatic when I finally glimpsed Aadam’s car turning into the driveway.. much sooner than expected.

My heart was completely out of control as it caught wind of what was in store… and I raced down the stairs in a frantic rush, making a silent Du’aa that my mother-in-law was too busy to notice his arrival right then.

And of course, as I glimpsed him step off the car, I couldn’t help but feel my heart soar with ecstasy, as a wry grin crept onto his beaming face.

Oh, how I missed his smile. So easy. Carefree. Completely soothing

And I wished I could have been graceful about the whole thing, but as I flung myself into Aadam’s secure embrace, with Zaydaan squished between us… I really had no words to even appear cultured.

All I knew was that I felt like the only girl in the entire world as he literally lifted us off the ground in the most massive of hugs. It was like coming home.

Woah!” he said finally, pretending to be shocked. “Careful, gorgeous. This guy’s not muscle man. You’ll might break my back.”

I could hear him faking a raspy breath as he let go of me, squishing Zaydaan cheeks lovingly as he looked at us both, and I couldn’t help but giggle, amidst my erratic emotions.

I missed his annoying humour… more than I thought I would.

“You act like I weigh a ton,” I muttered, whacking him playfully, trying to retain some of my dignity.

“You might be surprised,” he complained as he pretended to rub his arm, winking at me. “Or maybe it’s Zaydaan… Bordering on child obesity.”

I studied him easily as he smiled playfully, his eyes a little moist at the edges. If I could glimpse his soul, I knew I would have witnessed the magic of this miraculous journey that he had just undertaken… How my heart ached.

How must it have felt to be of those present, on the scorching plains plains of Arafah? How spectacular must it have been to sleep under the twinkly stars of Muzdalifah? How amazing must it have been to be of them who could pour their heart out to their Rabb with utmost conviction…

I wished I could ask him right then.. to soothe my soul… but I had step back for a minute to take him in as Rubeena came out to greet him too. She grabbed Zaydaan from me, allowing a little time to scrutinize the changes in my husband.

He looked completely at peace. Tranquil. Like he had been irrevocably fulfilled… beyond any understanding… and I was so jealous.

His beard had grown fuller and his hair was obviously now non-existent. The baldness suited him. Although I could see that all that strain had lost him a kilo or two… In that massive hug it was evident that the arduous journey had definitely made him pretty hardy. I was itching to hear every detail of it.

The elation was short-lived, as Aadam finally lifted his gaze, looking around and then glancing at me.

“What on earth is happening here? Who’s getting married?” His eyes were wide as he saw people streaming in.

I grinned and shrugged. The man had just come home from the trip of a lifetime. I wasn’t going to burden him with my sorry stories of what a misery his mother was making of my life… and how she planned this entire thing against our will.

I remembered Zuleikha’s words the day before. By giving him a good welcome, it also meant to ease his mind of any worries. It was a beautiful etiquette that women forgot when their husbands come home.. and so, so rewarding.

“My mother, right?” He said, already looking exhausted as he ran his hands through his beard. “Makes everything a big deal.”

I could tell that he was annoyed as he inhaled, pulling me aside for a minute before he was spotted, as we entered the slightly concealed doorway.

“P.S,” he whispered, his tired eyes suddenly looking alive again as he pecked me on the cheek. He wasn’t going to dwell on his irritation. It just wasn’t Aadam-like, and I loved that about him.

I looked at him questioningly.

“Was it everything you imagined?” I asked him, reaching for his hand and dying to know about every single bit.

“More,” he said, his eyes looking hazy as he looked into mine. I could just imagine how amazing he must feel… what a beautiful journey it must be.

“Did I mention that I missed you?”

My heart skipped a beat, but he wasn’t getting away that easily.

“No,” I said, pouting. “You were too busy complaining about how fat I’ve gotten.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, his eyes dancing playfully. “I can barely even recognize you.”

I knew he was pulling my leg but I frowned at him and turned away, threatening to leave him there to fend for himself. I could already see people coming toward us… I would steer them all in his direction on purpose.

“Hey, don’t leave me!” He said, feigning panic.

“You deserve it!”

He grabbed me by the arm, just as my mother-in-law came into view. He ducked slightly as he saw her, and I already knew this was going to bring trouble.

“You better get used to me bugging you,” he said quietly, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. “I plan on doing it every single day for the foreseeable future.”

I scowled.

By now, I had realised that bugging me was his crazy way of showing emotion. What worried me was that his mother might get upset that he wasn’t greeting guests like he should be… Of course she would blame me, even though I was desperately trying to rid of him by now.

“You better go,” I said, widening my eyes at him in warning. “Your mother…”

“You know why?” he said, ignoring me.

Oh gosh, he was so persistent.

I shook my head vigorously, swallowing nervously as I spotted my mother in law in the driveway now, eyeing out Aadam’s car. Her eyes were narrowing as they darted around…

“Later,” I mumbled, getting nervous about his mother in the vicinity. “We’ll talk later.

“Because even when you’re angry, you’re still beautiful,” he said quietly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He was oblivious to my panic.

And bulls eye …  she just spotted Aadam and I…

It was easy for him. He wasn’t the one to deal with the drama after. Men were always unaffected. And of course I had perfect response for Aadam’s smooth lines… but as my mother-in-laws voice rang out in utter annoyance, I had to swallow it…

“Can we at least get into the house before we do all of this?” she snapped, looking at us both. “Goodness! There are people here!”

Of course. I could already sense her female rival radar emitting signals as she approached. Emotion wasn’t allowed. Of course we couldn’t talk together.

People will see.

My dear mother-in-law turned away in a huff as Aadam’s eyes widened scarily, and then grinned as he called out to her.

”Salaam Mums,” he said holding out his arms and stepping forward. “Hajj Mubarak. I hope you made Du’aa for me. Don’t I get a hug?”

Aadam could melt an iceberg, he just had this amazing way of making everyone succumb. It was really quite unbelievable.

She stopped in her tracks. Of course, he had her at ‘Salaams’. I turned away, in half admiration, half disgust. He was amazingly good at conning people… well, except for me.

Crowds were coming to greet him now from all directions. I was sure that he felt celebrity-like. I mean, I really didn’t know that he knew so many people. I smiled as I stepped back to avoid getting caught up in the craze.

And I was so glad that we had stolen those few moments because of course, I barely saw him that afternoon as he was whisked away with the crowd to have his meal and entertain the guests about his trip. Aadam was visibly exhausted, but he was also not the type to fail when it came to entertainment. He was just always so easy-going. He never complained. I could hear him enthusiastically giving the low down for every part of his journey from where I was, and as I helped Rubeena to serve the never-ending in flux of guests. Rubeena was exhausted, and in pain, and I didn’t blame her because it was getting quite tiring.

I breathed in as I dished out more sojee for an older lady who had asked, convinced that I was going to need a time out after this serving. Rubeena had already gone to rest. I had just found a spare chair, before loosening the buckle on Zuleikha’s shoe that I had borrowed, when my mother-in-law caught sight of me.

Muhammed had gotten sick at the last minute, which meant Zuleikha had to stay home… and Nusaybah was gone away for the weekend with her family. Right then, I was aching for some moral support. I felt extremely vulnerable, and just a teeny bit frustrated.  I was almost ready to get up again, just to avoid her confrontation, but as she came toward me, I was kind of caught off-guard as she wore a a half smile on her face. Besides, I was exhausted, and the thought of getting up again was already making me tired.

I could see her gesturing to someone as she beckoned to them, and then advance towards me again with more people in tow. I was so glad that the function was separated, except for the few stranglers… but the scrutiny of these high-flying women was really something else.

She stopped in front of me and smiled, introducing me sweetly to her friends as her new daughter-in-law. I was actually a little in shock as she laughed with them, and watched them scrutinize me from head to toe before finally giving me a nod of approval.

The verdict was revealed. I had passed the test.

I was still in awe about how people like that could exist. It was all just a little bizarre for me… but completely regular for them. And just when I thought that I had recovered, and the ladies left, a young girl who I had noticed watching me from the beginning of the function came up to us.

It was amazing how my mother-in-law was so perfectly civilized to everyone but me. They turned to me as I got up to leave… and I smiled, knowing that I was expected to be polite.

“I’m Khawlah,” I said to the girl, glad that she seemed a bit approachable in person. “I’m Aadam’s wife.”

The girl smiled as she nodded, and then looked at my mother-in-law.

“This is my friends daughter, Zaira,” my mother-in-law said. Didn’t ring a bell.. but I supposed that explained a bit.

And it was all good as I smiled and asked her how she was, before Aadam’s mother dropped the bomb.

“Aadam and her were friends from school days,” my mother-in-law said, and I could see an uncharacteristic glint in her eyes as she said it. “We all thought that they would get married.”

I swallowed hard, as that feeling of imminent emergency overcame me…. I knew the wisest thing was to escape, but it was already too late…

“Well, until you came along.”

And of course, I felt as if I’d been punched in my stomach. I actually could not believe that she had said that. I was in shock.

The girl at least had the decency to look embarrassed as I swallowed hard to stop myself from breaking down right there and then. Now that, was completely uncalled for.

I was half choking as I somehow made an excuse to use the bathroom, hoping with every ounce of myself that no-one was occupying it, so I could just bawl my eyes out in peace.

Of course, I wasn’t immune to feelings. I was tough.. but what was it about this woman that just wrecked havoc within me.. I didn’t know.

And just as the torrent of emotion overcame me, a distinctive knock on the door caught me by surprise. I almost wanted to shout at them to go away, but I knew that it wasn’t exactly a wise thing to do. I breathed in and speedily grabbed a clump of toilet paper to dry my eyes, hoping that I at least looked normal.

The knock sounded again as I got up, wishing I could peep out to check who it was. I mean, was there no respect for people who were in the bathroom nowadays? Not even letting me cry in peace. I knew I was getting exceptionally angry over something seemingly small, but I couldn’t help it.

And of course, after a quick glance in the mirror to ascertain the damage on my puffy face, I walked to the door calmly and yanked it halfway open… expecting to see an impatient child or family member who didn’t know any better.

But as I met her pretty eyes, I couldn’t help but digest for a minute… wondering who this person was.

She removed her niqaab as she saw me, and just her kind smile immediately lifted my spirits. She was lovely in a soft and completely unexpected way. She blinked as she opened her mouth, almost hesitant about what to say.

“I’m so sorry,” she started, carefully stepping back as she tried to ascertain my reaction. “I don’t mean to pry. I saw what happened and I just wanted to check if you were okay…

I flushed as she said it, feeling so embarrassed that other people had heard my mother-in-laws words. It was one thing when she did it in private, but when it was in front of so many people…

“Don’t worry,” she said kindly, placing her hand on my shoulder. It was strangely comforting. “I don’t think anyone else heard. I just felt so bad for you… So I well.. I followed you. I hope you don’t mind. My husband was somehow persuaded by yours to join him for supper before we head back home. He must really like him, because Yusuf never eats anywhere but home. We just didn’t know that there would be so many people here…”

I looked at her, feeling like there was a need to apologise. She didn’t sound like she was from here. Her accent was not even remotely Gauteng-like. I wasn’t sure how to explain to her… whether to just say it or to just carry on looking at her a little dumbly, like I was doing now.

She smacked her hand to her now bare forehead and shook her head, almost admonishingly.

“Here I am going on about myself when you’re in such a state. You’re probably wondering who I am. You may know my sister, Haseena… or heard of my brother-in-law, Maulana Umar..?”

Maulana Umar? Of course I knew him. Well, I knew of him. He was the Maulana that Aadam and Ahmed never stopped offering praise for. I made the link in my brain as I looked at her, a little surprised that she was so sweet and down-to-earth. These were special people… They were of a different calibre..

“Khawlah, right?” She smiled. “I love your name. Reminds me of one of my favorite stories. It’s so good to meet you… I’m Laila.”


A blast from the past… combined with a bit of family dynamics.. I keep trying to shorten the posts and they keep getting longer. Sorry!

Maybe our Laila might have some advice for Khawlah.. 

Much Love,

A 🌸

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Being good to our parents is also an Ibadat and part of Akhlaaq. As they get older, it definitely does get harder. Allah make it easy for us to fulfill their right as they had looked after us when we were young .

How easy to practice!

Let’s revive this Sunnah Insha Allah.

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Twitter @ajourneyjournal



What Tomorrow will Bring

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem


My Dearest Zuleikha,

It’s been ten years….

I’m sure you can’t believe it. By now I have probably become a distant memory or a passing thought… a fleeting moment of childhood that you can’t quite recall.

I already miss you all… as I sit in bed today and pen this letter with so much to say, but so little time. 

Today is not a good day. I can’t get out of bed. The body pains are a little more severe. My heart feels a little more burdened. I’m a little scared… scared that my time here is nearly up. I know I shouldn’t be afraid, but I’m more scared for you all …

Ten years? Had it already been ten years since Mama passed away? The tears flowed freely, as I reached out to brush them away. What hurt the most was picturing Mama in pain on those last few days, imagining her carefully penning this letter, with so much of thought…. and I had no idea.

At least now… now, there is no more pain.

Zuleikha, I wish I had the words to say what I needed to. You may be wondering why you are only getting this letter now. I was afraid that at your tender age, as you are at present… you may not know how to handle this. Now that you are grown up, hopefully married, and have children of your own, I think you will understand better.

I glanced at Muhammed fondly, as he slept. Of course he would never know my mother, but I know that he would have loved her to bits.

I turned my attention back to the page.

No matter what happens, or has happened, please remember that I love you all very much. Your father has been my rock… an unwavering support to me in this time of illness.. but when I glimpse his soul, I, from all people, can tell they he carries a great burden. He feels like his world is crumbling. He does not know how to deal with this. He is so scared about letting me go.

Zuleikha, my princess, I have full faith in your strength and choices. I can see your protective nature.. and I can see your inherent maternal instinct when it comes to your siblings. You are most like your father. You have an amazing ability to see goodness in people, but I’m also afraid that this may cause you to make hasty decisions.

Please be careful. Please don’t let your heart rule your mind. I know we all make difficult choices sometimes, and even though you are probably already grown up, I’m certain that you have found peace within yourself along the way. I am certain that you have found Allah. 

As for your siblings, for Ahmed… he reminds me so much of my own father. He is fierce and pensive at the same time. Don’t let his nature bother you, if he challenges you. Just remind him that I love him so much though, won’t you?

For Khawlah… My dear Khawlah.. who I always called the fire of our lives.. I’m certain that as she grows up, she will find something in life that will calm her force. Maybe she will go on to be the flame of the family that we always knew her to be. Maybe she will meet someone along the way that simmers her down.

Tell her that her Mama says she’s never too tough for her own good. She’s going to need the strength. Life out there is not as sunny as she knows it to be.

As for Yunus… right now he is lying next to me, writing his own letter (which is just a series of scribbles), and the three of you, with Khalid from down the road, can be heard while you’ll argue about who’s going to be the next to be the monkey in the middle. I wish I could be there right with you’ll. I wish I had the strength in me to drag myself out of this bed, and take Yunus with me.

He already seems so lost. Even though he is the youngest, it’s like he understands the most about what’s happening to me. Please tell him Allah needs to be his best friend, not me. Let him know that he’ll always be my baby, alryt?

Feeling a bit tired now. I might take a nap. I wanted to leave something behind for you. Something that can remind you of me… For all of you. We never know what tomorrow will bring, but I always heard that if you love someone, you need to let them know while they can still hear it. While you can still say it. Over the years, a lot may have change, but please know that I love you more than words can say. More than you’ll ever know.  

Remember that growing up means making mistakes. We break. We fall. We fail. But then, we rise and we heal… we overcome. And through it all, we grow…

Please remember to read for me every day. Even if it’s just one Surah Ikhlaas… one ayat… one word… One silent Du’aa.

Don’t forget that you’ll always be my Princess.

Love you to the moon and back,

Your Mama

I breathed in and folded the letter carefully, letting it hit home as I neatly fitted it’s contents back into the envelope it had come in, and finally lifting my gaze to look at my sister.

Her eyes were glazed over and her expression was completely unreadable. Almost stunned.

“When did Dada give it to you?” she asked softly, after a few moments.

“Yesterday,” I said, remembering the shock waves that pulsated through my body as I first read the letter. Mama’s writing… her flowy words… It was almost like I could go back there in my mind and enter that world once again. Almost.

“Strange that she gave it to Dada, ” she murmured.

I had thought the same thing. Why hadn’t she given it to Abba?

Maybe she knew that Abba might marry again. I was sure that if Aunty Nas had come across the letter, she would have probably burnt it.

“Do you think there’s more?” Khawlah asked, her eyes lighting up.

Oh, that would be wonderful.

Dada refused to tell me though. It was amazing how Allah had worked it, and brought him back into our lives too.

I shrugged, trying to remain neutral. I supposed that time would tell. The possibility was really quite exciting.

“Mama really knew us so well,” Khawlah whispered suddenly, and I could see that she was trying really hard not to cry. She inhaled deeply as she turned to look at Muhammed napping on her bed.

My son had grown so much, an I could barely believe that he was over a year. Where had the time gone? Where had these ten years flown to?

”That’s a mother,” I said, giving her a small smile. “A mother … She is so in tune to her kids… even when we barely knew it.”

A mother will sacrifice anything for her kids. It was no wonder that Paradise lay at her feet.

”What was she like…?” Khawlah ventured easily, looking emotionally stronger as she raised her gaze again. “Like before she got… sick?”

I blinked, processing Khawlah’s words as I remembered how tiny she was when Mama had passed. Was she really only six?

I had some really good memories of my mother that I clung onto… but for Khawlah… she probably didn’t remember a thing. To have nothing much to link you to the women that carried you before you came into this world… I couldn’t imagine.

“She was actually very much like you now,” I said, the realization of it actually startling me, as I looked at my beautiful sister.

Khawlah’s dainty nose and her darkly rimmed eyes were exactly like my mothers. Her high cheekbones were more defined now as she grew, and every day I saw her, it was like she was turning into my mother… in almost every way. A spine of steel, yet soft at the edges. Since Khawlah’s personality had simmered down, her sensibility, compassion and wit were exactly like Mama’s. It was no wonder that Khawlah was my father’s favourite, though they would never admit it.

”She was so adventurous,” I said, grinning. “She loved the outdoors. She loved to swing. It was her favourite thing. As of course, she was obsessed with gardening… just like you.”

Khawlah smiled, and looked away.

“She also gave the best hugs,” I said, remembering that clearly. “Like Foi Nani. And her hair always smelt like… so good… like peach and vanilla… It was gorgeous.. .

Khawlah eyes lit up.

“That, I remember,” she said with a teary grin. “And her hands were always so soft. Even though she was so thin… I just wish I’d known her more… a little longer…”

It was a simple statement but it shot straight to the heart. Mama was so young when she passed away. Maybe only ten years older than me. It was Allah’s will. That alone was my comfort. We just never know when our time will be up… when it’s too late to tell someone you love them..

Reading Mama’s letter now though, reminded me of what I needed to tell my sister. Coming here to see her for a while, since she had been so busy, was my way of a bonding session… and also getting to the bottom of Jameel’s narration from the previous day.

Jameel had actually found the whole incident really quite amusing, but I wasn’t sure if it was as funny as he thought. It was earlier that morning that he had come in after his run, looking strangely excited about something.

“You’ve got a smirk on your face,” I challenged him, as I got out the pan to make his breakfast. Something was up.

He was grinning as she shook his head at me and winked.

“Leikha, is your entire family like Jihaad-trained or something?”

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. Well, he liked to pick on Ahmed… and of course, that needed no explanation. Ahmed made it no secret that he would probably kill Jameel if he didn’t sort his stuff out. At least something had scared Jameel enough to get his act together.

“Maybe,” I said mysteriously, not knowing where he was going with this.

“I met a guy that I knew in the past…” he said thoughtfully. “And I didn’t actually realise who he was until now.”

I frowned.

“Who?” I said as I cracked the egg on the side of the bowl, watching it’s contents pour out. The simmering of moisture on the hot oil gave me a weird sense of satisfaction.

“Khawlah’s brother-in-law,” he said, with a weird edge to his voice. “We go way back.”

I didn’t want to ask him more. Sometimes delving into Jameel’s past brought ugly skelteons from the closet. These days, I was workng on moving past those into the very optimistic future.

“And?” I asked, now getting curious as I tossed the egg around. That could only be Rubeena’s husband, right?
“He said he met your sister for the first time the other day,” he said blandly, before he raised his eyebrows. “Apparently she tried to kill him”

Of course, I couldn’t help but gasp as he said it.

Why would he say that? More importantly, was it true?

Jameel chuckled to himself as he shrugged it off, quite amused by the whole incident.

“Some guys find that stuff intriguing,” his tone a bit more serious now. “Sick. You need to tell her to watch out.”

Uh-Oh. This guy did sound like a piece of work.

I looked at my husband fondly. I couldn’t believe that he had changed so much and I never thought it was possible.

The three years of battling drug addictions and crazy fights seemed like a distant memory now. He kept a distance from his female cousins now, because he knew it was the better thing to do… and of course, caused less problems.

Somehow, after meeting lovely Zaynah, and taking her advice, everything was falling into place. She was the person that Allah had sent to be my means. She had been there in that critical time… 

Sometimes when we’re going through the storm, we forget that there’s an end to it. That after every difficulty there is an ease. That tomorrow will always bring a brighter day…

Of course, Mama’s words had rung so true. We fall..  we fail… we break. But, after it all, we rise. We overcome… And that’s exactly how we grow.

And it wasn’t anything less than a miracle. It was purely the intention that by changing my life, hopefully, by the blessing of that, Allah will change Jameel’s heart too.

And it was simply mind blowing how much Jameel had grown right in front of me. From an irresponsible guy to a father figure, who took life so much more seriously now.

After Khawlah had married Aadam, who he was surprisingly fond of, Jameel seeing his good habits had also had an amazing influence on him.

And no, he hadn’t become a saint overnight… but the fact was that I could see him making an effort. He didn’t make it to mosque every Salaah, but because he saw me praying, his focus had also changed. He really was different person and I was eternally grateful for that. How Allah can take someone whose on a completely different path and turn their heart was completely beyond my understanding.

Abdullah b. Amr b. al-‘As reported that he heard Allah’s Messenger (may peace be upon him) as saying: Verily, the hearts of all the sons of Adam are between the two fingers out of the fingers of the Compassionate Lord as one heart. He turns that to any (direction) He likes. Then Allahs Messenger (may peace be upon him) said: 0 Allah, the Turner of the hearts, turn our hearts to Thine obedience. (Sahih Muslim)

“Khawlah, is everything okay with your in laws?” I asked carefully, not wanting to pry either.

Everyone has issues at the beginning. I was just so glad that mine had simmered down after Muhammed had become a part of our lives. I think the fact that I let my mother-in-law see to Muhammed with no restrictions had made me a much more admirable person for her. Her whole attitude had changed when she saw me open up to her.  I mean, it was a win-win situation. It gave me relief and she was too occupied now to worry about making anyone else’s life a misery.

“Why?” Khawlah said, and I could immediately sense her defense up. “Did someone tell you something?”

I shrugged.

“Jameel knows Rubeena’s husband,” I said, shrugging. “Somehow. He said you need to be careful. Some people are scarily crazy.”

”I know,” Khawlah said with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to threaten him. I don’t know why I got so angry. He just reminded so me so much of Hannah. And I know it’s Allah’s plan, but now that Ruby’s had a miscarriage, everything’s gone upside down again…”

Inna Lillahi..” I said automatically, feeling terrible for Rubeena. I didn’t know she was pregnant but I could imagine how emotionally and physically taxing a miscarriage was.

“I actually just can’t wait for Aadam to come back,” she said, a little dreamily. “I didn’t expect to miss him so much, you know? My heart feels like it’s been invaded. It’s like there’s a piece missing.”

I smiled. Khawlah in love. Hopelessly.

Who would have ever thought that my feisty sister could surrender her heart to the most unassuming character in such a short time?

He was really so different to what I had imagined for her. Jameel had said that he was hilarious. Out of the ordinary. I was quite amazed, but so glad that my sister had found a unimaginable source of magic in him. A contentment that added so much of flavour to her life.

And as I saw her, I actually couldn’t believe that our Khawlah had changed so much. Since her Nikah, I was startled by the revolutionary transformation in my sister. She seemed so much lighter. More free. She was positively glowing from the inside, and honestly, I’d never seen her smile and laugh so much in her life.

That was the effect of a love so deep, that I could not even comprehend. Because once in a while, you do come across a perfect love. A love that not only lifted you and raised you, but also gave you the kind of deep contentment that made you constantly turn to Allah in sublime gratitude.

It gave me an elation that I never knew I could feel from seeing someone else’s joy.

”It’s just one more sleep,” I said to her with a smile, knowing that Aadam was due back tomorrow.

“I’m half dreading tomorrow,” she revealed, with a huge sigh. “My mother-in-law has this huge function planned, where she invited half the world… and I really don’t want to be there. I don’t think Aadam will be too thrilled about it either. Rubeena says it’s her way at getting back at us for not having the huge wedding function she wanted… she’s really something else.”

”I had actually heard my mother-in-law say something about it but she didn’t elaborate,” I said, recalling it vaguely.

I wondered if she was invited. I knew that they were some distant connection. It wasn’t a huge wonder.

“If she’s invited you have to come with,” she urged, sounding a bit relieved. “I need some moral support. Please just come.”

“I’ll try,” I said, sensing her desperation.

I wished that I could tell her to make Sabr… but I knew that it was easier said than done.

“Just focus on Aadam tomorrow,” I smiled, winking at her. “Give him a good welcome home.”

She rolled her eyes and blushed slightly.

“I can assure you that I will probably not even get one minute with him alone,”  she muttered bluntly.

I sighed. That was probably true.

“Ask Allah to change her heart… and tell Aadam to make Du’aa for her too. That’s the only thing that’s going to bring you’ll through…”

And of course, as I left my sister later that day, I could even feel my own spirits lifting.

Khawlah would be fine.

She was strong, right? She would get through whatever tomorrow had in store for her. This tomorrow, and all the ones that followed. She had that perfect faith and phenomenal strength that was not only dependant on the physical. Her’s was a strength that went to the very depths of her soul.

We were so different yet I loved her with every ounce of me. My sister was blossoming into an extraordinary butterfly and seeing that made me heart soar. Of course she would conquer whatever battles came her way… but for tomorrow, well…

I think we just didn’t know it yet.. but what tomorrow had to bring was going to be battle of it’s own..

A man came to Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) and said, “O Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ)! Who is more entitled to be treated with the best companionship by me?” The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Your mother.” The man said. “Who is next?” The Prophet said, “Your mother.” The man further said, “Who is next?” The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Your mother.” The man asked for the fourth time, “Who is next?” The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Your father. “

Being good to our parents is also an Ibadat and part of Akhlaaq. As they get older, it definitely does get harder. Allah make it easy for us to fulfill their right as they had looked after us when we were young .

May Allah grant all our parents the highest stages, and the best of both worlds. Let this also serve as a reminder for us to read for them if they have passed on.

3x Surha Ikhlaas for all Marhoom, Insha Allah.

Much Love,

A  🌸

How easy to practice!

Let’s revive this Sunnah Insha Allah.

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah

#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq




Twitter @ajourneyjournal