“We task not any soul beyond its scope” (Holy Quran 23:62)

I was 11 years old when I first read this verse from the Quran. At the time I was struggling through Pickthall’s English translation, trying to decipher his advanced Shakespearean English with my child’s mind. I didn’t get most of it. But this one verse, I understood. And it was this verse that stayed with me throughout the years, even during those dark years when I had lost my faith. Sometimes the verse would pop into my mind, calming me during a cram session for a final exam. Other times it would float up from my subconscious as I sat in some corner crying about the tattered life I had chosen to live as a teen.

“Maybe it was this drop of mercy that kept it beating over the years, until finally that drop became a pond, then a river, then a lake and then an ocean that took over my soul”

Although I didn’t deserve it, Allah, in His incomprehensible mercy, left this small token of wisdom in my otherwise dead heart. Maybe it was this drop of mercy that kept it beating over the years, until finally that drop became a pond, then a river, then a lake and then an ocean that took over my soul. It took many years of self inflicted suffering, stumbling through life blindfolded, and falling hard before I realized what I needed to do. I needed to repent. I needed to find my way back to Allah. Its makes me sad to say that I came to this conclusion after exhausting every other earthly source of support: friends, family, counselors, and teachers. If I had only turned to Allah first, maybe I could have avoided wasting so many years in grief.

Sudden Change

But finally it happened for me.

The change didn’t come gradually as it does for some. It came on a fateful day in Ramadan, as a whirlwind, ready and poised to take over. I felt it in every corner of my being, felt the weight of misguidance lift from my shoulders. I was sitting alone in the living room, trying to make du’a, struggling to establish a connection with Allah that I had neglected and now needed so much. Repentance rocked my heart, hope in Allah’s mercy strengthened it.

“Today I am right at the bottom. So what do I do? There is no other option, no place to go…except up”

This thought came to me then: it’s like I’m at the bottom of a deep well, a dark and mournful place that I, myself have jumped into. Today I am right at the bottom. So what do I do? There is no other option, no place to go…except up. Ironically, a few moments later someone opened the front door to my house. In an instant, my favorite bird who had been perched on the windowsill, flew right out the door, never to be seen again. I don’t know what this meant, but I can speculate.

What I can say with certainty is that Ramadan brought a beautiful miracle for me. Shaytaan was locked up, now it was just between my heart and the One who created it. At a quick glance, this may not seem like a miracle but imagine how a chronically ill person feels when he finally finds a treatment, is cured of his ailment and is released from years of suffering? Do we not call this a miracle? Well, for a believer who is cured of a “diseased heart”, truly it is like the gift of new life.

In any case, once I figured out what direction I needed to go, Allah took care of the rest. From there on, my life changed in massive waves.

This girl who had spent most of her life nicknamed “barbie” (I’m not afraid to admit it! And I know that there are more of you out there – FYI hijab was made for you), now could care less about how she looked as long as she was covered. Hijab was a great relief to me, a beautiful aspect of Islam that came to me easily because I was so fed up of caring about how I looked to others. It gave me the much needed time to withdraw into myself and look at who I was on the inside.

A new life

Allah also bestowed upon me another great gift. Shortly after my Ramadan epiphany, a very special person was introduced into my life. When I met him he was a struggling student of deen, spending his days sitting on hard floors, head lowered before his teachers, absorbing the words of Allah. Today he is the resident Imam of a masjid, serving a community of over 700 musallis. We were bound in Nikkah on the 27th of Ramadan.

“Of all the things I imagined I would be doing on my wedding day, praying taraweeh wasn’t one of them”

I still remember hearing his voice recite the Asr prayer over the loud speaker that day. It carried such beauty in its strong yet humble rhythm that tears came to my eyes and my hand trembled with emotion as I signed my Nikkah papers. Allah’s words, reaching me through my husband’s voice (during this blessed time, in this blessed month) was a strong message to me. Of all the things I imagined I would be doing on my wedding day, praying taraweeh wasn’t one of them. Looking back, I can’t really recall much about my wedding after so many years have gone by, except for that moment. Once again, Ramadan had brought a great miracle for me.

Several years (and Ramadans) have gone by since then. Each Ramadan has painted my existence with a different colour. At first, I traveled with my husband to different places where as a Hafiz, he was invited to lead taraweeh. These journeys showed me how much people longed for the Quran and how much love they would extend towards one who brings it to them. Hospitality doesn’t even begin to describe the honor and respect these communities gave to our family. Upon reflection, I realize that it wasn’t really us that they were honoring, it was the Quran that was in my husband’s heart. It’s true, we value the things that are not easily available to us.

Patience and Edurance

“I finally learned that my primary job as Imam’s wife was to sacrifice my time, needs and feelings so he could be free to give all he has to his community. It’s something I am willing to do, perhaps in exchange for all the years of ignorance I lived”

After a few years of this Ramadan bliss, things changed. We had new lessons to learn. Now my husband was the Imamand I was the Imam’s wife. I still remember the words of a very wise lady who told me, “He is no longer yours. First, he belongs to Allah and then to the community that he has committed to serve.” After a lot of struggling, I finally learned that my primary job as Imam’s wife was to sacrifice my time, needs and feelings so he could be free to give all he has to his community. It’s something I am willing to do, perhaps in exchange for all the years of ignorance I lived.

Now his life is about the masjid: the 5 daily prayers, a full time hifz school, Jum’ah khutbahs, tafsir and hadith programs, taraweeh and qiyam-ul-layl in Ramadan, youth programs and family support, joining others in Nikkah, and the list goes on. Ramadan in our home is full of activity. It involves a lot of hard work and sacrifice but during this month, our home is bursting at the seams with Quran.

To me, that is priceless, even our very lives cannot compete in value. Ramadan has become an exercise in patience for me. It has taught me the joy of serving the righteous servants of Allah. It has taught me endurance in the face of exhaustion. It has forced me to see my potential as a believer. It has blessed me with a toddler who would rather go to taraweeh then to the park!

My three year old daughter put it best when she stood up on the first day of taraweeh, after hearing her father recite on the loud speaker, and exclaimed with enthusiasm:“That’s my baba! He’s the Imam and he’s also my best friend in the whole wide world!”

I smiled all the way home that day. I felt so grateful that in a world of celebrity icons and sports heroes, my child looks up to her daddy, the Imam. Once again, I saw a miracle in this. This blessed month has shaped and molded my child. Through Ramadan, Allah provided the ground work for our child’s tarbiyyah. I am awe struck at the layers upon layers of wisdom behind each command of Allah. Sometimes, one gets caught up in just living life and time starts racing by. Every Ramadan, I revisit my life’s fondest memories and that makes me pause. It makes me think.

When words fail me at describing my gratitude, I resort to a huge, right-from-the-bottom-of-my-heart Alhamdulillah!.