Dear Reader,
Everything is bigger in Texas. The trucks, the iced coffees, and the houses are all super-sized. And yet, the best of all are the mega-mosques.
For the last four Ramadans, I’ve been making the “pilgrimage” back to Dallas where my immediate family lives. It’s such a special trip, not just because I get to see the family (though they’re special), but because I get to slip into the huge Muslim communities where the Ramadan programming is filled with worship, lecture, and late night snacks. I love to hop between Sh. Omar Suliman/Sh. Yasir Biraj’s mosque and Qalam Institute. The mosques are bustling with joy, laughter, and tears. After being out all night for qiyams, the feeling I’m left with is a high for more spirituality and more connection to Allah. It’s a feeling that comes around just once a year.
But coming here to fill my spiritual cup wasn’t easy. In fact, I almost didn’t come back this year at all. Why? Because I was scared to encounter the ghosts of Ramadans past.
Last Ramadan, I brought X and some of his family members to spend the last ten nights with my family. It was one of the best Ramadans I had had in a long time. I loved his family and I loved the opportunity to get them better acquainted with my family. When I flew in a few days ago, I was flooded with memories— all the warm and fuzzy ones: the late night chats, the dinners, the walking to qiyam together. I loved every minute. For almost a full forty-eight hours, I had to fight my way through the past to make room for the present.
I did using two methods: first, I asked Allah to make me forget all that I had lost, and second I connected with old friends that I hadn’t gotten a chance to spend time with in a few years. On back-to-back nights, I did iftar and taraweh/qiyam with these friends, both single women who live alone.
The first friend is a 37 year old fellow lawyer who gave me a tour around the home she paid for and built a few years ago. She had everything custom designed and fitted to her liking. Her design esthetic was English cottage meets Dallas-Chique. I remember when she began dreaming up a home of her own a few years ago. I was so proud of her for making that dream a reality and doing what so many of us (myself included) are scared to do without a partner. Although it was tough for both of us to be reunited again after almost five years, both single, it was a pivotal moment to take note of the growth and acceptance we each had achieved in our singlehood. My sweet friend reminded me to be brave and really lived into the spirit of what I always tell other single women: “live your life to the fullest– don’t wait until you’re married.”
The other friend I had the pleasure to visit is fifty-nine years old and a widow. After her husband died suddenly back in 2015, she went on a journey to connect with her Lord. She went to hajj, started wearing hijab, and opened up a Sunday school for little kids in her living room. When I first met her in 2019, I was living in Dallas, and renting a spare bedroom from her (because her house was super close to my job). I would wake up some Saturdays to her reciting Quran, the gentle rhythm from her tajweed reverberating off the walls, bouncing up to the second floor. We prayed together in the evenings and reflected on the wonders of life.
Back then, she had just begun to think about remarrying. Though she had two adult children and young grandchildren, she was lonely. She wanted a “grandpa” to match her “grandma” energy. We would sit in the living room snacking and watching random insta-famous Muslim wedding videos on Youtube, waiting for the day when our roommates would be our spouses. Fast-forward to the present, and we were both back on that couch, but instead of watching videos, we made plans to go to the mosque for qiyam.
It was during that qiyam that I learned my favorite lesson from this year’s “pilgrimage” to Dallas.
On Sunday morning at around 12:30 AM, I sat in the geometric-patterned, dimly lit musalla housed on the Qalam Institute campus. Surrounded by other worshippers, I listened to a late night lecture led by Sh. Abdulnasir Jangda and Ust. Abdulrahman Murphy. The lecture begins with the story of Prophet Musa and the events that led him to flee to the countryside for refuge. He had accidentally killed a man and Pharoah and his goons were after him. When he was far from the city, he stopped to help two women get water for their herd. He then sat under a tree in a lush oasis and called out to Allah for guidance. At that moment he was a fugitive with no home, no family, no food, and no direction. He desperately needed Allah’s assistance.
The dua he made was:
فَسَقَىٰ لَهُمَا ثُمَّ تَوَلَّىٰٓ إِلَى ٱلظِّلِّ فَقَالَ رَبِّ إِنِّى لِمَآ أَنزَلْتَ إِلَىَّ مِنْ خَيْرٍۢ فَقِيرٌۭ ٢٤
“…My Lord! I am truly in ˹desperate˺ need of whatever provision You may have in store for me.” - Quran 28, 24
The story goes that soon after he was given a wife, a home, a job, and mentorship. Allah provided Prophet Musa with so much after facing such hardships. The message of the lecture wasn’t focused on what goods this specific dua can provide you with (although it is one we can utilize to ask Allah for help), the message that Sh. Jangda and Ust. Murphy were teaching was about how Allah prepares us for bigger things by putting us through hardship.
Prophet Musa’s struggles ended up preparing him to later face the Pharaoh when he was commanded to educate him about Allah. But we can apply it to our own lives by understanding that the difficulties we face in this life add up to something. Ust. Murphy said “Everything we go through is preparation for Allah. Life is not meaningless, it is meaningful. What we do [in life] ends up [shaping] who we are.” Then, Sh. Jandga said “sometimes we are going through something and it is training for something better.” He further said that we must hold on and not sabotage ourselves by giving up on life too quickly. We could be missing out on our own greatness or the beautiful journey Allah has set out for us.
In reflecting on the lessons from that night, I realized there have been so many times in the last few months when I’ve been frustrated with my own emotions or the absence of certain things I want in life. The feelings have been so overwhelming that I have often just wanted to run away. At one point, I literally wanted to sell all my belongings and move to Morocco. I wanted to forget everything and everyone.
Even for Ramadan, I didn’t want to face the memories by coming back to Dallas. I just wanted to avoid everything that could possibly hurt me more. But I realize now that we can’t run from hard things, we have to learn how to face them head on.
At the beginning of Ramadan I was scared. I was scared to have my suhoor and iftars alone. I was scared that I would miss out on the beauty of this month because I would be so caught up in my loneliness and depression. But after a month of throwing myself into study, late nights at the masjid and time spent with old and new friends, I realized I had nothing to worry about.
I am blessed to meet these challenges and I will continue to ask Allah for strength as I face new difficulties ahead.
May Allah allow all of us to face our burdens with ease. May you all have a blessed Eid.
Love,
ND