Oh Ramadan

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It’s amazing how Ramadan seems to come exactly when we need it.

This will be my fourth in sha Allah and second without having to hide it from anyone.

The approach of Ramadan has always come with a lot of promises for me all these years. Last year this time, I did something that required so much courage even a fraction of which I knew I didn’t have.

I wrote a letter to my mom to reveal my conversion and saw her crumbling reading every line.

I like to think I’ve been an obedient child, choosing a conventional career path in an academic setting, something my parent thought apt for me. I like to think I had no option but then I also knew I was pretending. I didn’t like studies. I had an active left brain that breathed creativity. That was where I felt at home.

But I did what I felt was the right thing to do. I wanted to make my parents proud forgetting that being my own person was essential to doing anything worth their pride. It was a disappointment for my mother when I stood up for what I wanted to do or rather “did not” want to do. Of course she had my best interest at heart and it took her some time to see through them.

And then there was my reversion.

I’ve never been so sure and yet so cowardly. It was such an oxymoron now that I think of it. But then again this is when courage becomes the bravest choice you can make.

It literally took every ounce of my being to confess who I really was. But what was worse were the tears coming in the very eyes I never wanted to see them in. And to know I was the reason for it all. But indeed in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest. That was my only rope, only hope, only glimmer of light in a dark as a black hole world and that was all I needed.

And just as hard as it rained, subhanAllah it cleared faster. The sun was shining again, as bright as ever. I’d never imagined after all the show down, my mom would even accept my reversion let alone so quickly. Indeed Allah is Al Kareem and Al Fattah. And He surely never burdens a soul with more than it can bear.

I had accepted Islam ten days short of Ramadan. Two years later around the same time I revealed what mattered to me most to people that mattered most to me. And truly, it is a month where mercy is in abundance even at times when the sabr of a mother is being worn down. She would still find it in her to remind me to get up for suhoor, stock fruits and milk so I can fast with a full stomach. I fail to know how she prepared delicious iftar snacks for me carrying a dagger buried in her heart. How she prepared sheer korma just a little over a month after her world has come crashing down.

And then I remember the Source of all this mercy. May He give me the taufeeq to be patient with my mother. And show her how much she means to me inspite of failing to have sabr on the many occasions I’ve lost my cool.

It’s that time of the year again where veils fall off from the eyes of our heart like the autumn leaves. And I can swear there are miracles among us, living, breathing the same air we breathe, holding forbearance like it’s the only thing they ever inherited. Looking like the comfort of the home we come back to but always take for granted.

While I bask in the glow of its approach I pray this time won’t be any less magical, especially for my mother, especially for my mother.

Ya Allah, have mercy on my mother. Let her see the Light of Your Oneness. Turn to her in guidance and forgiveness. Ameen

Please keep me and my family in your duas, especially my mother.

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