The Play Dough
She stared at the play dough in her hands. The
  different colours reminded her of the rainbow that her father had shown her
  just the day before. She was only four years old and doctors had given up
  hope of her motor-skills ever returning to her since that ghastly accident
  two years ago. Pushing the curls away from her eyes, she miraculously began
  pulling at it: twisting, rolling and shaping it into the house ... the house
  that she would always tell her father about whilst sitting on his lap and
  swinging in their sun-filled veranda. He would always twirl her baby-soft
  hair around his fingers and say: 
“Darling, the happiest day of
  my life will be when you build me a house with your play dough.” 
That evening, a plastic toy box lid lay on the
  doorway holding a house whose blue roof was ready to cave in, whose red walls
  were set in a shape other than a square, whose green door leaning on the wall
  appeared more like a warrior’s shield than a door. She waited in the guest
  room hiding behind the curtain until she heard the car pull into the
  driveway. The door banged, the alarm clicked and the sounds of footsteps
  crunching the gravel pounded her ears as he jingled his keys in his pocket to
  open the door. 
Ah! It was a sight sweeter than the sweetest honey, more
  fragrant than the richest perfume, the dawning of a new era in the future of
  his baby, a sight that pieced together his shattered hopes, a sign that her
  neuro-motor-skills were slowly returning to her. 
He shouted out for her. She stood behind the
  curtain grinning from ear to ear unable to contain her laughter, her pink
  shoes with their white bows peeping out from beneath. She let out a small
  giggle, then a bigger one until she burst out laughing. He rushed into the
  room and cried ‘I caught you!’ She ran out from the curtain into his strong
  arms which lofted her to the ceiling, spinning her around. He hugged her and
  tears of joy streamed down his cheeks and soaked his beard. 
What joy and excitement! What
  happiness and elation! What delight! 
All
  because of the SOFT dough!!! 
Had the dough not been soft and pliable the
  house would never have been built and the return of her skills never proven.
  If the dough was hard and tough, her father may have never seen this joyous
  day. The pleasures of life lie in being soft and submissive, in being meek
  and obedient. 
A cake can only be baked if the egg eventually
  cracks, the egg white allows itself to be whipped, the sugar granules slowly
  dissolve, the flour allows itself to mix and the chocolate eventually melts
  ... A car can only be built if the steel eventually softens and becomes a
  panel, the rubber allows itself to be moulded into a tyre, the petrol
  eventually burns to provide energy and the parts allow themselves to be
  restricted and bolted to one place ... and the list goes on and on. 
Analyse the list of words in these examples:
  soft, pliable, crack, whipped, dissolve, melt, soften, mould, burn,
  restricted and bolted. Every single one of them indicates toward the meek
  nature and submissive character of the dough, the cake and the car. The
  pleasures and enjoyment of this world are the same. They could have only come
  about when someone or something was submissive. 
Attaining
  the pleasure of Allah Ta‘ala is the very same. It requires total commitment,
  loyalty and submission to the commands of Allah Ta‘ala and the sunnah of
  Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alaihi wasallam). It calls upon us to be soft and pliable, to be cracked
  and whipped, to dissolve, melt and soften, to burn, to be moulded, to be
  restricted and to be bolted. It demands that we be totally meek and
  submissive to his laws without any hesitation or reluctance. 
This was the hallmark in the life of Sayyidah
  Haajar (‘alaihas salaam). When Nabi Ebrahim (‘alaihis salaam) brought
  Sayyidah Haajar (‘alaihas salaam) to the barren land of Makkah Mukarramah,
  she was, bluntly speaking, staring at her destruction. Such a land stretched
  out before her eyes, where there was no soul to be seen or even heard, where
  nothing edible grew ... a land that outwardly promised no future. She was,
  however, fully aware of the fact that this was the command of Allah Ta‘ala
  brought to her by the Nabi of Allah Ta‘ala. The command of Allah Ta‘ala and
  the way of His messenger as a rule is never beyond a person’s ability. All it
  requires is a bit of courage in the beginning. Then the road opens up.  
The response of Sayyidah Haajar (‘alaihas
  salaam) to this command of Allah Ta‘ala is worthy of being written in gold
  and etched onto the heart of every Believer. Her words echoed the very
  mindset that made her a celebrated member of a family chosen by Allah Ta‘ala.
  She said: 
“How will Allah Ta‘ala ever
  destroy us when we submit wholeheartedly to His decree? I am happy with the
  command of Allah Ta‘ala.” 
“It does not befit a believing man or woman
  when a matter has been decided by Allah Ta‘ala and His Rasul (‘alaihis
  salaam), to have any option about their decision.” (Surah Ahzaab v 36) 
Put the Horse Before the Cart
Submission entails that a
  person follows deen objectively. At every moment one should be maintaining
  the purity of the sharee‘ah, without looking for any
  short-cuts or guise. Rephrasing the words, re-interpreting the meaning and
  altering the context of deen to suit our convenience would be equal and akin
  to putting the cart before the horse. 
 | 
 
The journey of Islam would
never start in that event.
No comments:
Post a Comment