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.

Hugging My Kids

This morning I dropped off my daughter at her school with a hug and then another hug and kiss.  It was a sweet moment that isn’t always repeated in our mornings.  It might seem like a routine act in your day, but for me, it’s a new routine that I’ve slowly been struggling to build more and more into my day.
Two weeks ago I read an article on hugging your kids 12 times a day, and it dawned on me that when they’re babies, my kids are getting at least 10 hugs a day, but as they grow older, those hugs grow much, much fewer, and so far in between.  When I read that article, I realized weeks go by without a real hug from me to my child, and I decided I was going to challenge myself to hugging them daily, and seeing how many hugs I can build in.  I was going to wait till I’d built a solid routine, with at least 3 hugs a day, and then I was going to report to everyone with my new achievement.
But I didn't have time to do that.  Because today I heard the news coming out of Connecticut about what is now considered the second largest school massacre in American history.  Twenty elementary aged kids murdered after their parents had dropped them off at school on a routine day.

  That image of me dropping off my seven year old early this morning at her school, giving her that morning hug that, her absorbing that hug with a hunger that she seems to always have for my physical touch, flashed across my mind.

I had a good moment today, where I savored my hug, but it doesn't always happen that way. Some mornings my girls are having really bad days, where everything manages to take twice as much time as it should, and where I end up losing my temper numerously.  On those mornings, it's been a struggle to force myself to hug them with all the angry words that have been said.  And that hug comes out forced, sometimes feels fake, but today, all I can think is alhamdulillah it's coming out.  

What if I was having one of those bad mornings with my daughters, dropping them off angrily at school, either giving a quick forced hug, or no hug at all, only to hear news that I would never see them again?  What if I was one of those parents who lost their child today, would I be wishing for one last hug where I could prove to them how much I loved them?  What if I didn't have that chance anymore, would I live the rest of my life wishing I had dropped them off at school with a smile on my face and a meaningful last look  deep into their eyes?  

Ya Allah, give me the chance to love my children in all their moods and tantrums, to be thankful for their continued presence in my life, to appreciate  Your gift at every moment of our lives together.  Ya Allah, I leave them in Your trust, so help me raise them in the best way and protect them from the evils of all Your creation. 

Moving forward, I grieve for the parents and think of what I can do with my little ones.  Think that there's little more than leaving them in Allah's trust and showing them, through hugs and otherwise, how much I treasure their presence in my life. 

Dill Plant

I've been walking by my tiny container garden for the past few weeks not mentally registering the weedy, thin plant growing in the wrong container.  It looked like dill, but was not growing in the dill plant pot from last year, and so I ignored it. 
Today I finally gave in, stooped down and tore off a slender leaf to smell; and lo and behold, it was a dill plant! O, the joy!  I love my fresh herb garden, and especially my dill plant, which did not thrive last year.  To find it re-growing in the pot that housed my mosquito plant last year brings me great joy.  Somehow, some way, seeds fell out of the big herb pot, into this tiny side container, buried under the soil for a few dormant months, and sprouted me a fresh dill plant this season, for my edible enjoyment. 
O, the joy that we feel when we likewise plant random seeds of goodness here and there, never realizing that they have grown roots and flowered into a plant of good deeds.  The dua'a  of travel we taught a random student years ago when we were enjoying a roller coaster ride together, only to be remembered forever by her, and recounted to you ten years later.  The pot of spaghetti you cooked quickly for a new mother months ago, that sustained her during her hardest days at new motherhood.  The kind word you spoke, passingly, to a stranger, days ago, that helped him move through a moment of hardship and doubt, through a burning quest for personal understanding. 
It's moments like these, on the day of Judgment, that will come back to brighten our existence, and make us thankful for Allah's small mercies on us, for Him allowing us to throw around a good deed here and there, not realizing that it may truly have taken deep roots, flowered, and given sweet fruit and use to many around us. 
Now back to that container garden of mine; there really is nothing like a perennial herb garden, that gives and gives, year after year, without hardly any work on your behalf.  You do the initial act of planting the seed or seedling; you water it every once in a while, harvest its good leaves and flowers for flavor, and then wait for another spring to come around for that plant to come back up out of the dead ground with new growth, and plentiful use.  Do yourself a favor and plant a small garden today.  Sow your seeds of good deeds left and right, and realize that although you may never know that they took root and sprouted, they might be leaving behind a legacy that will come back out of the ashes and benefit a new generation of people after you.

Kid Cracks Me Up

Sumayya cracks me up sometimes. 
A couple of days ago, Anas and his brother in law were visiting.  Sumayya has started this new thing where she wears her scarf in front of men/schoolmates, etc.  So , she went upstairs to changer her clothes and a while later I see her strolling into the kitchen casually with her shirt, scarf and .... underwear.  nothing on her lower half but her underclothes.  Ummmmmm......
I freaked out and covered her up.  She has no concept of internal 3aybness.  So I looked at her and said, 'Sumayya, you have a scarf on , but no pants?'
She actually stopped and thought about that and said, 'Oh, yes.' 
Alhamdulillah that made some sense.

Well-Worn Family Treasure

I sat in my halaqa the other day, and had a blast from the past moment.  I thumbed through the book we were studying, and couldn't help but be blown away for a few minutes.  I was holding in my hand a well-worn family treasure, and I was the lucky one who owned it now, even though I don't think I deserve it. But I was blown away with Allah's mercy on me, that it now lay in my hands. 
This book that I read when I was a teenager, growing up.  This book that my sisters studied while they sat with my mom in self-imposed family time.  This book that my brother wrapped with a brown paper bag and wrote on in his beautiful Arabic writing, with a typo that still designs the cover.  That my sister graffitied with her name.  That my mom stamped with her side notes, written in her tiny, unclear handwriting.  That my father thumbed through endlessly, lovingly. 
And I sit here and remember the last time it was given to me.  I had moved out to my own place, and left behind a wealth of books in my parents' storage attic, too lazy to bring it down.  I went shopping in my father's bookcase, and he sat there and happily gave me book after book, so sure that he was fulfilling me and edging me on to reading more in Arabic.  He handed me this book, the book that I loved reading in the past, but had not read in a long while, the book that my mother studied religiously, that my siblings had marked with their own marks.  At that moment, my mom put her foot down, "No, I still read that book."  And I remember how happy I was when Baba slipped it into my hands and said, 'It's ok, Fatima will read it."
I cried that day when I remembered that memory. For over two years it sat on my shelf, not read or used.  How selfish of me.  But subhanaAllah, here I am, two years later, finally using it.  I love how Allah's plans for the future play out in our past, how we can't see the reason for something, only to be surprised by it slapping us in our faces many years later.