As the father
I prayed that insha'allah she would be ok, there was nothing I could do for her at this moment. As a man I had no idea how hard it was to wear the khimar and to feel so different from those around me, it wasnt something I had to deal with. Allah had bought me into my wifes life for some reason and it was our fate that Zara would see life without total Islam, that was something we had to deal with.
Sometimes I was shocked at how strange it felt walking next to her with her head uncovered. I noticed noone staring extra hard, why would they? They didnt know she used to cover it! It was during these walks that I started to truly reach out and understand my daughter, yes hijab was in the Quran for men and women but it was still something that people chose. Yes we know there are consequences but there is no compulsion in Islam, thats what I was always raised with by my parents.
As Zara walked around the streets on errands that needed to be done, I watched as she composed herself, how she talked to people, helped the old lady with her shopping, I listened as she was praised by numerous people while she stood blushing looking to the floor. After Zara took off her scarf I began to see the person the scarf had made her, maybe this is why I couldnt understand why she had decided to take it off. I asked her once this in the line of a question, her answer? 'the scarf didnt make me this person, it just hid it from everyone else. From a muslim it was expected, so hidden and from a non muslim the scarf wasnt looked past' My child has grown into such a caring woman alhamdulillah
Maybe that was why the colour change was such a shock to me. It wasnt the woman I had come to know over the last few months, that woman didnt need the shock factor. That scared me, I had never pretended to know Zara, now I thought that I was beginning to and for that I was grateful. However, now I was back to not knowing her again.
I lowered my head as I pulled on my coat and reached for the door to escape my thoughts and the tensions in the house. I closed the door to the soft weeping of my wife in the kitchen.
Sometimes I was shocked at how strange it felt walking next to her with her head uncovered. I noticed noone staring extra hard, why would they? They didnt know she used to cover it! It was during these walks that I started to truly reach out and understand my daughter, yes hijab was in the Quran for men and women but it was still something that people chose. Yes we know there are consequences but there is no compulsion in Islam, thats what I was always raised with by my parents.
As Zara walked around the streets on errands that needed to be done, I watched as she composed herself, how she talked to people, helped the old lady with her shopping, I listened as she was praised by numerous people while she stood blushing looking to the floor. After Zara took off her scarf I began to see the person the scarf had made her, maybe this is why I couldnt understand why she had decided to take it off. I asked her once this in the line of a question, her answer? 'the scarf didnt make me this person, it just hid it from everyone else. From a muslim it was expected, so hidden and from a non muslim the scarf wasnt looked past' My child has grown into such a caring woman alhamdulillah
Maybe that was why the colour change was such a shock to me. It wasnt the woman I had come to know over the last few months, that woman didnt need the shock factor. That scared me, I had never pretended to know Zara, now I thought that I was beginning to and for that I was grateful. However, now I was back to not knowing her again.
I lowered my head as I pulled on my coat and reached for the door to escape my thoughts and the tensions in the house. I closed the door to the soft weeping of my wife in the kitchen.
February 12, 2009
When I say Im muslim....
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I'm not shouting " down with Christians and Jews."
I am whispering "I seek peace," and Islam is the path that I choose.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I speak of this with pride.
And confess that sometimes I stumble, and need Allah to be my guide.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I know this makes me strong.
And in those times when I am weak, I pray to Allah for strength to carry on.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I'm not boasting of success.
I'm acknowledging that Allah has rescued me, and I cannot ever repay the debt.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are indeed visible, but Allah forgives because his followers are worth it.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
it does not mean I will never feel pain.
I still have my share of heartaches, which is why I invoke Allah's name.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I do not wish to judge.
I have no such authority. My duty is to submit to Allah's all-encompassing love.
I'm not shouting " down with Christians and Jews."
I am whispering "I seek peace," and Islam is the path that I choose.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I speak of this with pride.
And confess that sometimes I stumble, and need Allah to be my guide.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I know this makes me strong.
And in those times when I am weak, I pray to Allah for strength to carry on.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I'm not boasting of success.
I'm acknowledging that Allah has rescued me, and I cannot ever repay the debt.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I'm not claiming to be perfect.
My flaws are indeed visible, but Allah forgives because his followers are worth it.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
it does not mean I will never feel pain.
I still have my share of heartaches, which is why I invoke Allah's name.
When I say. . .I am a Muslim
I do not wish to judge.
I have no such authority. My duty is to submit to Allah's all-encompassing love.
February 2, 2009
As I rest my head in my hands I wonder where it all began, was it my fault she had turned like this? why didnt I choose Islam earlier so she hadnt already been used to the bad world out there? First it was the ripping off of her hijab, the change in schools and now the hair colour, is this what I had done to my own mother? I was given no respect and it wasnt just me, I could see how this was affecting her father too as he sat across the table from me massaging his temper to try to calm himself.I lean towards him, push my hand to the middle of the table in some sort of comfort, he places his hand ontop of mine, holds it gently and says so quietly that I have to strain my ears to hear his words 'what more can we do?' I pray that we dont give up on Zara because I know how it feels to be lost in this world without a faith, I had been through that and I believed that taking Islam as my own was a gift I was giving to my children from my creator. I only prayed that she saw this before it was too late.
Yusuf stood up from the chair and moved to the window, he placed the kettle on the stove just as Hawa walked through the door and at that instance my mind ran away from me imagining how this would affect her. Would we have to go through the same thing? she sat on my knee tired after running from her friends house down the road. She was only 2 years younger than Zara but never really remembered not being around Islam as much as Zara, she had followed her father around more when she was a child so was exposed in that way. She had been wearing hijab for 2 years now, was in the same Islamic school as Zara had been but showed no signs from changing things as her sister had.
In hind sight, we should have known problems were coming, it was only a matter of time. As I sat with her on my knee I hugged her so tightly I thought I would never let go until she fidgeted and told me 'Mum, i have to go. Me and asma are learning a new surah so I have to go sort it out.' I nodded as I let her go and just as she walked out the door I wiped a single tear off my cheek. As if reading my mind my husband walked past me, kissed me softly on the head and told me 'she will be ok, insha'allah' Insha'allah I reminded myself
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