This touches ones heart and this only confirms that Duaa is so powerful.A friend of mines always tells me ' Put your head on the mussallah, andsee what you cant get.'
ALLAH IS SO GREAT!!!
This story was written by a Muslim doctor who worked in Africa.One night I had worked hard to help a mother in the labor ward; but inspite of all we could do she died leaving us with a tiny premature babyand a crying two-year-old daughter.We would have difficulty keeping the baby alive, as we had no incubator.(We had no electricity to run an incubator.) We also had no specialfeeding facilities.
Although we lived on the equator, nights were oftenchilly with treacherous draftsOne student midwife went for the box we had for such babies and thecotton wool the baby would be wrapped in. Another went to stoke up thefire and fill a hot water bottle.She came back shortly in distress to tell me that in filling the bottle,it had burst. Rubber perishes easily in tropical climates.And it is our last hot water bottle!' she exclaimed. It is no goodcrying over spilled milk, so in Central Africa it might be considered nogood crying over burst water bottles. They do not grow on trees, andthere are no drugstores down forest pathways.'All right,' I said, 'put the baby as near the fire as you safely can,and sleep between the baby and the door to keep it free from drafts.'Your job is to keep the baby warm.
'The following noon, as I did most days, I went to have prayers with anyof the orphanage children who chose to gather with me. I gave theyoungsters various suggestions of things to pray about and told themabout the tiny baby. I explained our problem about keeping the babywarm enough, mentioning the hot water bottle. Thebaby could so easily die if it got chills. I also told them of thetwo-year-old sister, crying because her mother had died.During the prayer time, one ten-year-old girl, prayed with the usualblunt conciseness of our African children. 'Please, Allah,' she prayed,'send us a water bottle. It'll be no good tomorrow, Allah, as the babywill be dead, so please send it this afternoon.'While I gasped inwardly at the audacity of the prayer, she added by wayof a corollary, 'And while You are about it, would You please send adolly for the little girl so she'll know You really love her?'As often with children's prayers, I was put on the spot. Could Ihonestly say, 'Ameen?'
I just did not believe that Allah could do this.Oh, yes, I know that He can do everything. The Holy Quraan says so. Butthere are limits, aren't there? The only way Allah could answer would befor a package to arrive from the homeland.I had been in Africa for almost four years at that time, and I hadnever, ever received a parcel from home. Anyway, if anyone did send me aparcel, who would put in a hot water bottle? I lived on the equator!Halfway through the afternoon, while I was teaching in the nurses'training school, a message was sent that there was a car
at my frontdoor. By the time I reached home, the car had gone, but there, on theverandah, was a large twenty-two pound parcel. I felt tears pricking myeyes.I could not open the parcel alone, so I sent for the orphanage children.Together we pulled off the string, carefully undoing each knot. Wefolded the paper, taking care not to tear it unduly.
Excitement was mounting.Some thirty or forty pairs of eyes were focused on the large cardboardbox. >From the top, I lifted out brightly colored, knitted cotton jerseys. Eyes sparkled as I gave them out. Then there were the knitted bandages for the leprosy patients, and the children looked a little bored. Then came a box of mixed raisins and sultanas-that would make a batch of buns for the weekend. Then, as I put my hand in again, I felt the...could it really be? I grasped it and pulled it out -- yes, a brand-new, rubber hot water bottle, I cried. I had no tasked Allah to send it; I had not truly believed that He could.The ten year old was in the front row of the children. She rushed forward, crying out, 'If Allah has sent the bottle, He must have sent the dolly, too!'Rummaging down to the bottom of the box, she pulled out the small,beautifully dressed dolly. Her eyes shone!
She had never doubted.Looking up at me, she asked: 'Can I go over with you, Mummy, and give this dolly to that little girl, so she'll know that Allah really loves her?'That parcel had been on the way for five whole months. Packed up by my former school class, whose leader had heard and obeyed Allah's prompting to send a hot water bottle, even to the equator. And one of the girls had put in a dolly for an African child- five months before -- in answer to the believing prayer of a ten-year-old to bring it 'that afternoon.''Before they call for prayer, I will answer all prayers!'Allah wants us to ask of Him.and he will surely answer.Please share this amazing story with as many others as you can.
Our Allah really IS . . . AN AWESOME Allah!LESSONS TO BE LEARNED:Don't ever underestimate the POWER OF ALLAH-Allah can do anything Allah desires Kids are innocent and pure- Their duas[prayers] are easily and quickly answered by Allah The Dedication of this Muslim Doctor - spare time was devoted to Allah to bring others closer to Him- Lets also become invitees to ALLAH Don't forget others in need.
You may never know when you would be in need!Always contribute to good causes.you never know the little you give may save some ones life..or in which way it will benefit them.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Friday, July 04, 2008
As-Salaamu-Alaikum
JUMMAH MUBARAK to you & your family
Words of Wisdom from Hadrat ALI (Radiallahu Anhu):
The best speech is one that is short and reasonable. Speech is like a medicine, a small dose will cure but an excess will kill. Enlighten the heart with prayers.
May the Almighty bestow His choicest blessings on you today and always. May His Angels guide You every step you may take, taking away all burdens, only leaving goodness and lasting kindness in your path, Aameen
Kindly remember my family and I in your Dua’as, likewise we will do the same, Jazakallah
Jazakallah & Was-Salaam
Words of Wisdom from Hadrat ALI (Radiallahu Anhu):
The best speech is one that is short and reasonable. Speech is like a medicine, a small dose will cure but an excess will kill. Enlighten the heart with prayers.
May the Almighty bestow His choicest blessings on you today and always. May His Angels guide You every step you may take, taking away all burdens, only leaving goodness and lasting kindness in your path, Aameen
Kindly remember my family and I in your Dua’as, likewise we will do the same, Jazakallah
Jazakallah & Was-Salaam
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Day I Died: An Eye Opener
As-Salaamu-Alaikum
I received this from a dear friend and I thought its worth sharing!What a good read, makes you sit back and reflect a bit. Inshallah Allah (swt) make us all steadfast in our 5 daily Salaah, Aameen.
Life is unpredictable. But I always thought I could predict what was going to happen next. It was only six days ago. I was driving home with my friends, Malik and Omar. It was Halloween night. We had just watched the movie Saw 3 at the recently refurbished theater at the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica, CA. It was 11:46pm when I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized I hadn't made Isha But I didn't say anything, as not to upset the mood. Just three hours earlier I put off the Isha until after the movie. Now I was running out of time.
I only lived 26 years. My 27th birthday was exactly two weeks away.
I always imagined I would live long. At least until age 60. It just wasn't imaginable that I would have such a sudden, unexpected death.
I had graduated from the University of Southern California three years earlier with a degree that means absolutely nothing right now. Shortly after, I landed a job as the marketing director of a major clothing company. Aside from the usual life problems, I was living a normal life. My girlfriend of 4 years was starting to pressure me into us getting a place together. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a girlfriend in the first place but I enjoyed her company and friendship. I wasn't ready to give that up. I used to always tell myself that eventually I would marry her. Plus, what would these few years of living a sinful life mean by the time I got older?
My job, girlfriend and life-long friends took up the majority of my time. It seemed I never had time to offer Salaah. I hardly even had time to sit down and eat. Offering Salaah was always something that continuously bugged me. The more I postponed my Salaahs, the more it irritated me. I did give an effort to keep up on my Salaahs. But for the last two years of my life I gave up. I pretty much stopped making Salaah altogether. I never made it home in time to make Salaah that day.
Saw 3 was a walk through the rose garden compared to what I was about to experience. I was doing 85 on the 10 freeway. At 12 midnight, 85 mph is not considered speeding. Omar flipped through FM radio stations searching for a song he liked. Malik had fallen asleep in the back seat. I began to doze off too. I used to hate when that happened. I shook out of what seemed like a 10 second snooze. I tried to keep my eyes open. But again I dozed off. Omar screamed, 'HEY! It was too late. The car struck the center divider and spun back into the flow of traffic. An oncoming car hit my door. That car was also hit by another vehicle. We finally came to a halt somewhere in the middle of the freeway, a hundred yards from the spot of the collision. I didn't feel any pain. I was just dizzy, I heard Omar and Malik moaning as good civilians tried pulling us from the wreck.
I wasn't rescued until the fire fighters arrived. It was quite a task recovering my battered body from my totaled car. Breathing became difficult. The fire fighters huddled around me and frantically applied device after device. 'He's not gonna make it,' I heard one of them say. I 'm not gonna make it? How? I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt nothing. My heart started pounding. I was soaked in sweat and blood. I saw Malik standing over the top of me with tears in his eyes.
'Don't quit on me', he told me. At that time I knew it was over. I started to cry. The fire fighters moved him away as they made last attempts to revive me. I died. An angel came to me and removed my soul. I watched him fly away with it in disbelief. 'How could you?
I'm not even 27,' I pleaded. 'It's time,' he told me and left. Two minutes later they pulled a white sheet over me. Omar and Malik, apparently doing better than me, pulled the sheet back to look at me one last time. They cried their eyeballs out, I had known then over since I was 13 years old and had never seen either one cry. It was a depressing sight.
The ride to the morgue, until then, was the worst experience I ever had. I was alone. It was dark and cold. I missed my mom. I missed my brother. I missed my sister. I wished I had spent that last night with my family instead of with Omar and Malik. I worried what my mother was going to do when she saw me in this state. I was ugly.
When we finally arrived, I was placed in another cold room with dozens of other dead people. I missed my family so much. Every so often a family came in to view their dead. I always thought it was my family but it wasn't. Hour after hour passed. No mom. No dad. I started to cry again. Then one odd hour I recognised voices. My father walked in with my mother in his arms. His face worn from stress. Hers wet with tears. They just stared into my eyes and cried. I stared back.
I wanted to tell them I loved them. I couldn't. I wanted to hug them. I couldn't. Mom stroked my bloodied hair and left. I was to be buried the next day. When my parents left, it hit me. I never made Isha! My heart jumped out of my chest. I owed Allah a Salaah and failed to deliver it to him. I had hundreds of missed Salaahs over the past two years. Now I was about to face him. I felt powerless.
For those of you who have never experienced guilt at death, there is not a worldly feeling that amounts to it. It is guilt and sorrow at another level. I tried getting up to make Isha but I couldn't move. It was over. I had no second chance.
Then I began to think back. I never knew my memory was so good. I had more than enough time to ponder as I was awaiting my burial. I literally remembered every single Salaah I missed and the reasons why I missed them. Most were laziness, procrastination and neglectfulness.
I knew I was in trouble. I wished they would take longer to bury me. I failed! I failed! I failed!
My girlfriend paid me a visit. She was a devil. When I was alive I saw her as a pretty angel. My pretty angel who loved me and would do anything to make me happy. If I had the ability, I would have cursed her and demanded her to leave the morgue. She put her hand on my forehead. I allowed her to do that for that past four years. Now that I opposed to it, I could do nothing about it. The devil cried for hours at my side. She just would not leave. I felt cheated. I felt like she pulled a prank on me for the past couple years of my life. I hated this devil! She was ugly! She smelled horrible! She finally left. As she walked out the door my heart was filled with fear and anxiety.
The funeral was simple. My body was washed. I didn't seem to care that my naked body was exposed. My worries far surpassed my desire to be modest. I was wrapped in three white sheets. About 300 people attended my funeral. I was saddened not to see my mom at the funeral.
I wished she came to see me one last time before they put me in the ground. I never knew so many people cared about me. Many just stared at the tightly wrapped figure in disbelief. Others cried and cried some more.
The mass prayed for me. Thousands of individual prayers were made. They asked Allah to have mercy on me. They asked him to forgive me. I wanted to pray for myself but I couldn't speak. I was helpless. I was carried to the hole in the middle of the barren desert. The people followed. It seemed like slow motion. I didn't want to go.
If I had 24 bonus hours I would pray non-stop. They lowered me into the ground. The anticipation was eating away at me. I had surely failed life. I thought back on everything I had worked so hard to accomplish. I earned a college degree. I had a well paying job. I spent hours and hours in the weight room ever since I was 16 years old developing my body. I had a pretty girlfriend who loved me. In that life, that was a badge of honor. But as they were lowering me into this grave, which seemed like it took forever, I realized that I couldn't use any of those 'accomplishments'. If only I had been that dedicated to making Salaah five times daily, I would have been at peace right now. Instead I am a nervous wreck beyond anything you all can comprehend.
Dirt fell in the hole. Darkness overcame my new home. The last shovels of sand filled the grave. Everyone sadly walked away. The graveyard started to empty. Family by family. Mine was the last to leave. The attendant left. By nightfall it was just me. All alone.
My wrapping was soaked in sweat. I nervously awaited the angels to come and question me. They finally did. My final judgement has not been reached yet. I am now waiting for judgement day. Still lying here, alone, as day comes and night falls. Soon I will meet Allah himself and He will decide weather He will forgive me or not. I can only lay here, wait and hope The All Forgiving, The Most Merciful forgives me and does not punish me. I hope. That is all I have right now. Hope until the day of Qiya'amah.
I make Dua'a that we all remain steadfast with our Salaah & that Allah (swt) grant us mercy and forgiveness from our sins, Aameen
I received this from a dear friend and I thought its worth sharing!What a good read, makes you sit back and reflect a bit. Inshallah Allah (swt) make us all steadfast in our 5 daily Salaah, Aameen.
Life is unpredictable. But I always thought I could predict what was going to happen next. It was only six days ago. I was driving home with my friends, Malik and Omar. It was Halloween night. We had just watched the movie Saw 3 at the recently refurbished theater at the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica, CA. It was 11:46pm when I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized I hadn't made Isha But I didn't say anything, as not to upset the mood. Just three hours earlier I put off the Isha until after the movie. Now I was running out of time.
I only lived 26 years. My 27th birthday was exactly two weeks away.
I always imagined I would live long. At least until age 60. It just wasn't imaginable that I would have such a sudden, unexpected death.
I had graduated from the University of Southern California three years earlier with a degree that means absolutely nothing right now. Shortly after, I landed a job as the marketing director of a major clothing company. Aside from the usual life problems, I was living a normal life. My girlfriend of 4 years was starting to pressure me into us getting a place together. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a girlfriend in the first place but I enjoyed her company and friendship. I wasn't ready to give that up. I used to always tell myself that eventually I would marry her. Plus, what would these few years of living a sinful life mean by the time I got older?
My job, girlfriend and life-long friends took up the majority of my time. It seemed I never had time to offer Salaah. I hardly even had time to sit down and eat. Offering Salaah was always something that continuously bugged me. The more I postponed my Salaahs, the more it irritated me. I did give an effort to keep up on my Salaahs. But for the last two years of my life I gave up. I pretty much stopped making Salaah altogether. I never made it home in time to make Salaah that day.
Saw 3 was a walk through the rose garden compared to what I was about to experience. I was doing 85 on the 10 freeway. At 12 midnight, 85 mph is not considered speeding. Omar flipped through FM radio stations searching for a song he liked. Malik had fallen asleep in the back seat. I began to doze off too. I used to hate when that happened. I shook out of what seemed like a 10 second snooze. I tried to keep my eyes open. But again I dozed off. Omar screamed, 'HEY! It was too late. The car struck the center divider and spun back into the flow of traffic. An oncoming car hit my door. That car was also hit by another vehicle. We finally came to a halt somewhere in the middle of the freeway, a hundred yards from the spot of the collision. I didn't feel any pain. I was just dizzy, I heard Omar and Malik moaning as good civilians tried pulling us from the wreck.
I wasn't rescued until the fire fighters arrived. It was quite a task recovering my battered body from my totaled car. Breathing became difficult. The fire fighters huddled around me and frantically applied device after device. 'He's not gonna make it,' I heard one of them say. I 'm not gonna make it? How? I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt nothing. My heart started pounding. I was soaked in sweat and blood. I saw Malik standing over the top of me with tears in his eyes.
'Don't quit on me', he told me. At that time I knew it was over. I started to cry. The fire fighters moved him away as they made last attempts to revive me. I died. An angel came to me and removed my soul. I watched him fly away with it in disbelief. 'How could you?
I'm not even 27,' I pleaded. 'It's time,' he told me and left. Two minutes later they pulled a white sheet over me. Omar and Malik, apparently doing better than me, pulled the sheet back to look at me one last time. They cried their eyeballs out, I had known then over since I was 13 years old and had never seen either one cry. It was a depressing sight.
The ride to the morgue, until then, was the worst experience I ever had. I was alone. It was dark and cold. I missed my mom. I missed my brother. I missed my sister. I wished I had spent that last night with my family instead of with Omar and Malik. I worried what my mother was going to do when she saw me in this state. I was ugly.
When we finally arrived, I was placed in another cold room with dozens of other dead people. I missed my family so much. Every so often a family came in to view their dead. I always thought it was my family but it wasn't. Hour after hour passed. No mom. No dad. I started to cry again. Then one odd hour I recognised voices. My father walked in with my mother in his arms. His face worn from stress. Hers wet with tears. They just stared into my eyes and cried. I stared back.
I wanted to tell them I loved them. I couldn't. I wanted to hug them. I couldn't. Mom stroked my bloodied hair and left. I was to be buried the next day. When my parents left, it hit me. I never made Isha! My heart jumped out of my chest. I owed Allah a Salaah and failed to deliver it to him. I had hundreds of missed Salaahs over the past two years. Now I was about to face him. I felt powerless.
For those of you who have never experienced guilt at death, there is not a worldly feeling that amounts to it. It is guilt and sorrow at another level. I tried getting up to make Isha but I couldn't move. It was over. I had no second chance.
Then I began to think back. I never knew my memory was so good. I had more than enough time to ponder as I was awaiting my burial. I literally remembered every single Salaah I missed and the reasons why I missed them. Most were laziness, procrastination and neglectfulness.
I knew I was in trouble. I wished they would take longer to bury me. I failed! I failed! I failed!
My girlfriend paid me a visit. She was a devil. When I was alive I saw her as a pretty angel. My pretty angel who loved me and would do anything to make me happy. If I had the ability, I would have cursed her and demanded her to leave the morgue. She put her hand on my forehead. I allowed her to do that for that past four years. Now that I opposed to it, I could do nothing about it. The devil cried for hours at my side. She just would not leave. I felt cheated. I felt like she pulled a prank on me for the past couple years of my life. I hated this devil! She was ugly! She smelled horrible! She finally left. As she walked out the door my heart was filled with fear and anxiety.
The funeral was simple. My body was washed. I didn't seem to care that my naked body was exposed. My worries far surpassed my desire to be modest. I was wrapped in three white sheets. About 300 people attended my funeral. I was saddened not to see my mom at the funeral.
I wished she came to see me one last time before they put me in the ground. I never knew so many people cared about me. Many just stared at the tightly wrapped figure in disbelief. Others cried and cried some more.
The mass prayed for me. Thousands of individual prayers were made. They asked Allah to have mercy on me. They asked him to forgive me. I wanted to pray for myself but I couldn't speak. I was helpless. I was carried to the hole in the middle of the barren desert. The people followed. It seemed like slow motion. I didn't want to go.
If I had 24 bonus hours I would pray non-stop. They lowered me into the ground. The anticipation was eating away at me. I had surely failed life. I thought back on everything I had worked so hard to accomplish. I earned a college degree. I had a well paying job. I spent hours and hours in the weight room ever since I was 16 years old developing my body. I had a pretty girlfriend who loved me. In that life, that was a badge of honor. But as they were lowering me into this grave, which seemed like it took forever, I realized that I couldn't use any of those 'accomplishments'. If only I had been that dedicated to making Salaah five times daily, I would have been at peace right now. Instead I am a nervous wreck beyond anything you all can comprehend.
Dirt fell in the hole. Darkness overcame my new home. The last shovels of sand filled the grave. Everyone sadly walked away. The graveyard started to empty. Family by family. Mine was the last to leave. The attendant left. By nightfall it was just me. All alone.
My wrapping was soaked in sweat. I nervously awaited the angels to come and question me. They finally did. My final judgement has not been reached yet. I am now waiting for judgement day. Still lying here, alone, as day comes and night falls. Soon I will meet Allah himself and He will decide weather He will forgive me or not. I can only lay here, wait and hope The All Forgiving, The Most Merciful forgives me and does not punish me. I hope. That is all I have right now. Hope until the day of Qiya'amah.
I make Dua'a that we all remain steadfast with our Salaah & that Allah (swt) grant us mercy and forgiveness from our sins, Aameen
Marriage & Islam
I thought I'd post this, with the divorce rate being so high lately...let me have you comments & please be honest, will appreciate ~ Princess
How many men and women prepare themselves to live as a couple, as a family?
Some think about it, others are already committed to it. We hear of stories... and one is sometimes moved by the expectations and hopes of some, and sometimes saddened by the painful life experiences of others. Perhaps you are also, sisters and brothers, preparing yourselves to engage in this life experience of marriage, known as half of your faith. Or perhaps you have already started sharing your life with someone. In this, your expectations, thank Allah (swt), were more than met but sometimes doubts have emerged. This... is not what you had expected.
Brothers and sisters, nothing should be idealized.
The perfect husband or the perfect wife only exists in your dreams. Allah (swt) has given you, as He has given others, noble qualities and intelligence. Allah (swt) has given you, as He has given others, faults and deficiencies. Perfection is not given to you or any human being.
It is not enough to share the same faith, the same principles and the same hopes to make an ideal couple. How many young couples have been under the illusion that their future life will be harmonious as if being Muslim was enough for a successful marriage? As if their union was based solely on the meeting of two worlds founded on the same principles that one respects or on the rules which one applies.
This illusion, which yesterday promised a small earthly paradise, today makes life a difficult struggle How many speak about "the principles of marriage in Islam" and actually live the reality of a torn, ravaged and frustrated existence?
Today, more than ever, living as a married couple has become a real challenge. Around us, men and women meet and leave each other in a modern society in which they confuse freedom and the absence of accountability as love and flexibility. Living as a couple is not without its challenges - preparing yourself, learning and constantly trying to reach out to the other with patience, depth and tenderness. Although it is true that the principles of Islam bring you together, or will bring you together, you must remember each day that the person with whom you share your life comes with his or her own history, wounds, sensitivities and hopes. Learn to listen, to understand, to observe, to accompany. Make every moment count.
Living as a couple is the greatest of tests: a test of patience, of attention, of the ability to listen for unspoken words, of self-control, of mending one's faults, of healing the wounds. In each of these tests,
there are two parties. It isn't easy. A meaningful effort has to be grounded in the deepest sense of spirituality, a jihad, in the most intense meaning of the term. The jihad of love which reminds that
feelings have to be taken care of. They are maintained, deepened, rooted through your shared challenges and your patience.
Patience and attention to the hearts, in a couple, will lead them towards the light, Inshallah. Remember, brothers and sisters, the last of the Prophets (peace be on him), an example for eternity, so
attentive, so tender, and so patient. He did not only remind the Ummah of principles, he enlightened with his presence, his listening, and his love.
Before being the mother of his children, his wife was a woman, his spouse, a person he discovered each day, a person whom he accompanied and who accompanied him; subject of his attention, a testimony of his love. He knew the meaning of silence, the power of a touch, the complicity of a shared glance, the pleasure in a smile, and the kindness found in being attentive.
There are those who idealize the other so much they never really see their partners and those who leave each other too quickly without taking the time to know each other. We are reminded of the principles Islam, its depth, its spirituality, its essence. Living as a couple, forming a relationship, being patient in adversity, loving to the extent of enduring, grounding by way of reforming is an initiation to
spirituality. Knowing how to be one with Allah (swt) assures greater comfort in being together as two. A challenge, a test, far from the ideal, close to reality.
Sisters and brothers, you must prepare yourselves to live one of the most beautiful tests of life. It requires all from you, your heart, your conscience, and your efforts. The road is long. One must learn to
demand, to share, and to forgive...indefinitely.
Of the things permitted by Allah (swt) - divorce but it is the most detested. Living as a couple is difficult: remember that your wife is woman before being the mother of your children; remember that your husband is a man before being the father of your children. Know how to live as a couple, within
your family...in front of Allah (swt) and in front of your children.
This meeting place, these efforts will result in a sense of protection: They are your garments and you are their garments. Know how to be patient, learn how to be affectionate, offer forgiveness, and you
will attain the spirituality of the protected, the proximity of the ones that are close. Faith then becomes your source of light and "his or her" presence, becomes your source of protection; the test of your heart, the energy of your love, half of your faith. I make Dua'a to Allah (swt) that this love be the school of your efforts and the light of your patience, Aameen.
How many men and women prepare themselves to live as a couple, as a family?
Some think about it, others are already committed to it. We hear of stories... and one is sometimes moved by the expectations and hopes of some, and sometimes saddened by the painful life experiences of others. Perhaps you are also, sisters and brothers, preparing yourselves to engage in this life experience of marriage, known as half of your faith. Or perhaps you have already started sharing your life with someone. In this, your expectations, thank Allah (swt), were more than met but sometimes doubts have emerged. This... is not what you had expected.
Brothers and sisters, nothing should be idealized.
The perfect husband or the perfect wife only exists in your dreams. Allah (swt) has given you, as He has given others, noble qualities and intelligence. Allah (swt) has given you, as He has given others, faults and deficiencies. Perfection is not given to you or any human being.
It is not enough to share the same faith, the same principles and the same hopes to make an ideal couple. How many young couples have been under the illusion that their future life will be harmonious as if being Muslim was enough for a successful marriage? As if their union was based solely on the meeting of two worlds founded on the same principles that one respects or on the rules which one applies.
This illusion, which yesterday promised a small earthly paradise, today makes life a difficult struggle How many speak about "the principles of marriage in Islam" and actually live the reality of a torn, ravaged and frustrated existence?
Today, more than ever, living as a married couple has become a real challenge. Around us, men and women meet and leave each other in a modern society in which they confuse freedom and the absence of accountability as love and flexibility. Living as a couple is not without its challenges - preparing yourself, learning and constantly trying to reach out to the other with patience, depth and tenderness. Although it is true that the principles of Islam bring you together, or will bring you together, you must remember each day that the person with whom you share your life comes with his or her own history, wounds, sensitivities and hopes. Learn to listen, to understand, to observe, to accompany. Make every moment count.
Living as a couple is the greatest of tests: a test of patience, of attention, of the ability to listen for unspoken words, of self-control, of mending one's faults, of healing the wounds. In each of these tests,
there are two parties. It isn't easy. A meaningful effort has to be grounded in the deepest sense of spirituality, a jihad, in the most intense meaning of the term. The jihad of love which reminds that
feelings have to be taken care of. They are maintained, deepened, rooted through your shared challenges and your patience.
Patience and attention to the hearts, in a couple, will lead them towards the light, Inshallah. Remember, brothers and sisters, the last of the Prophets (peace be on him), an example for eternity, so
attentive, so tender, and so patient. He did not only remind the Ummah of principles, he enlightened with his presence, his listening, and his love.
Before being the mother of his children, his wife was a woman, his spouse, a person he discovered each day, a person whom he accompanied and who accompanied him; subject of his attention, a testimony of his love. He knew the meaning of silence, the power of a touch, the complicity of a shared glance, the pleasure in a smile, and the kindness found in being attentive.
There are those who idealize the other so much they never really see their partners and those who leave each other too quickly without taking the time to know each other. We are reminded of the principles Islam, its depth, its spirituality, its essence. Living as a couple, forming a relationship, being patient in adversity, loving to the extent of enduring, grounding by way of reforming is an initiation to
spirituality. Knowing how to be one with Allah (swt) assures greater comfort in being together as two. A challenge, a test, far from the ideal, close to reality.
Sisters and brothers, you must prepare yourselves to live one of the most beautiful tests of life. It requires all from you, your heart, your conscience, and your efforts. The road is long. One must learn to
demand, to share, and to forgive...indefinitely.
Of the things permitted by Allah (swt) - divorce but it is the most detested. Living as a couple is difficult: remember that your wife is woman before being the mother of your children; remember that your husband is a man before being the father of your children. Know how to live as a couple, within
your family...in front of Allah (swt) and in front of your children.
This meeting place, these efforts will result in a sense of protection: They are your garments and you are their garments. Know how to be patient, learn how to be affectionate, offer forgiveness, and you
will attain the spirituality of the protected, the proximity of the ones that are close. Faith then becomes your source of light and "his or her" presence, becomes your source of protection; the test of your heart, the energy of your love, half of your faith. I make Dua'a to Allah (swt) that this love be the school of your efforts and the light of your patience, Aameen.
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