Timeless Tales- Qur'anic Storytelling

A few weeks ago, as I prepared my two year old for bed, I decided to skip his truck book and switch it up with some quick storytelling.  As I lay him down and looked into his sleepy, glazed eyes, I opened up with a short re-telling of the story of the Elephant and Abraha.  My little one gazed at me with wide open eyes, enthralled, silent, and quietly settled to sleep as I closed the lights and door behind me.

The next morning, during our morning car ride to his sisters' school, Hasan surprised me with a request, "Mama, can you tell me the story of the Elephant?"  I honestly did not expect him to remember it, and what followed was a marathon request for this story, with me repeating it over and over and over.  All day long and for the next couple of days, that is all he wanted to hear or watch from me, his baba and his grandma. I had not expected at all that he would be so open to listening to a story, and that he would be able to internalize it.  But then I realized that he was ready for more stories from the Qur'an.

Since then, I've racked my brains for as much of the Qur'anic stories as I could that refer to animals; because at his age, I think that's what catches his attention.  He's currently loving the story of Prophet Yunus, heard the story of Sulaiman and the ant, and can tell me all the different kinds of animals that Prophet Nuh could have taken with him on his Great Ark.

With his oldest sisters, I used to make the stories into a graphic storytelling experience, drawing a crown to symbolize the Queen of Sheba, a castle, a hoopoe bird (definitely rudimentary drawing) and lots of ants marching along.  I retold the stories to them over and over until I reached a point where I thought they'd gotten sick of it, and that I couldn't retell it in any new light.

And then recently, my 6 year old daughter started asking me to tell her a story during our morning drive to school.  I figured it had been long enough since I'd spent time retelling Qur'anic stories with them, so I started up again on that tradition.  This time around, with my older children, I've found myself delving into the feelings of the Prophets while they lived their struggle with their people.  The pain in Prophet Nuh's heart when he had to give up on his son and watch him drown as a disbeliever; the overwhelming fear in Yunus's heart as he found himself in pitch black darkness, unable to see his own hand as he stretched it before him; the anger in Yunus's heart as he left his people for once again ignoring his message; the thankfulness and happiness that overflowed from Sulaiman's heart as he realized Allah's blessings on him allowing him to understand the language of the ant....

As my children go through different stages of their life, I realize that the Qur'anic tales are truly timeless, taking on a magical presence for each individual in each stage of their lives.  As the mother telling these stories, I have to look at them from a different light each time, trying to bring up a new detail that I might not have caught the first time around, trying to reflect on and understand a side of the story that I might have brushed over previously.  To me, they are truly timeless tales, and as I was reminded a few weeks ago, no toddler is too young to be introduced to them, and no child is too old to hear them again. 

This Time of Year- Spring Blooms

Something about this time of year, about Spring, inspires in me a deep gratitude to Allah SWT, a deep acknowledgement of how little we have to do to see the fruit of all the mercies He sends down to us. 
When I look at my wooden barrel today, I can only say, subhanaAllah.  One month ago, it was a brown container, with brown dirt, and a few dried, burnt looking, bare twigs.  Today, it's a container that is literally overflowing with long, green, luscious sage, oregano and thyme.  Did I do anything to bear that fruit?  No.  Not recently at least.  The last time I touched that container was three years ago, when I put the dirt in, and added small seedlings of sage, oregano and thyme plant.  I leave my herb garden outside, where it dies once the frost sets in, and miraculously bursts forth every spring since that first planting.  I haven't added any new fertilizers (other than a few coffee grounds here and there), I haven't weeded, cleaned or changed the soil.  But somewhere, deep under that brown dirt, are the seeds that bear fruit each year.

And so it is with this life.  It truly is the garden for our Hereafter, as taught by our Prophet saaws.  And the amazing thing is, we don't really have to put much effort into this life either, compared to the great na'eem that we will get in return in the Hereafter.  Allah SWT only wants us to invest in whatever little way we can do, just to take that first step forward, so He can come running to us with His rewards and blessings.  His blessings rain upon us long after we have moved away from Him and become engrossed with this dunya. 

Digging Deeper into the Prophet's Hadith on What Helps a Person After He Has Passed

I realize that i've only blogged about my father after his passing, and it's been over two years now, and although I insist on not writing about him so as not to seem obsessed, i find that his death continues to inspire in me deep reflections and memories.   May Allah have mercy on all those who have passed and make us ready for our time whenever it comes, esp if it is sooner, rather than later. 


Recently, more than two years after my father's passing, I reflected on the famous saying of the Prophet's (saaws) in which he gives us hints on what we can do to help our loved ones after they have returned to Allah.  In the hadith, Abu Hurayrah, rahimahullah, narrated that Allah's Messenger, sallallahu 'alayhi wa sallam, said, "When a human being dies, all of his deeds are terminated except for three types: an ongoing sadaqah, a knowledge (of Islam) from which others benefit, and a righteous child who makes du'a for him." [Muslim and others]

I thought of how easy this was, of how b/c he was an integral part of my every memory, I would easily remember him daily and make dua'a for him.

But then I realized that there was another side to this hadith that I was completely missing; a much deeper and more proactive side.  Righteous child.  Why in the world did I assume that I was a righteous child?  Was I really that perfect that I thought I would automoatically be accepted by Allah, and that my dua'as would be answered for my loved one?  Or was this hadith a call for me to work on myself, improve myself, struggle with my weaknesses, so that I could be in a state of constant struggle to reach piety?  Was this hadith more of  a call for self-improvement, in the face of, or despite, grief and sadness?

As a parent myself, I realize that if I should die in a year or more or less, my biggest worry without a doubt would be for my young children.  I worry about the logistics of who would take care of them, but I realize that if I pass, I have nothing to do with what happens after my death, and it is not my worry.  But the only wish that I could ever have for my young ones, is that Allah protects their faith, and that they grow up in the shade of His rememberance.  If I continue to nurture them and raise them, I will undoubtedly strengthen my bonds with them, and one day they will come searching for how they can continue to birr me, do well for me, after I have passed.  My sincerest hope is that at that point, they will realize that there is nothing better that they can do for me than to work on themselves, make themselves the best that they can be.  Then, and only then, will i rest in peace in my grave, and realize that there could be no better gift than to have my children making duaa for my salvation, and most importantly, struggling to make themselves the best people that I could leave behind. Only then, will I rest assuredly in my death, knowing that Allah and His Messenger, in their infinite wisdom, gave us pearls of wisdom that we can uncover when we dig a little more deeply.