Muslimah In Progress

Making Hijrah - My blog is on the move. Please come with me!

2011-10-20T11:20:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

The only constant in our human lives is change, so I hope you will embrace the latest change in my life with me. I was invited to move my blog to Patheos, and I have taken them up on the invitation in hopes that I can reach a wider audience, especially non-Muslims, as I share my journey with those who have taken an interest in it. The content of my blog will remain the same;. I will write what I feel passionate about. I will write about something that tickles my funny bone. I will write about something that ticks me off. I hope that you will come along for the ride and continue reading and commenting. I value your presence and your input. Come with me and make sure I don't get all big-headed. You can find my blog over here now:

Muslimah In Progress at Patheos

I'll keep this old blog open for anyone who stumbles across it but I will be blogging over yonder. Please feel free to share the link with all your friends, Muslim and non-Muslim. InshaAllah I'll see you there!

Fi Aman Allah,

Nancy, whose full name is pretty long and unwieldy: Umm Abdel Hamid Nancy bint Ronald ibn Euless al Amrikaniyyah. So just Nancy is fine :).

Keeping Up With the Ahmeds....

2011-10-17T13:02:00.001-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I am a married, work-at-home wife and mom. I sacrificed having a job outside the home when I got married in order to be able take care of the house and, as we started a family, to raise my kids full time. Alhamdulillah, we survived on one income and now that my husband and I are both taking care of our business we are beginning to see an uptick in income. That income turns into outgo pretty fast, so I have to be frugal and clever in order to keep food on the table and buy all the necessaries a family of five kids and three adults - and four cats! - needs.

Recently my husband and I were talking about a disease in the Muslim community. It is called materialism. One of the symptoms is a desperate attempt to appear rich and to play "keeping up with the Ahmeds". You've seen this disease. Brother So-and-so sees another brother driving a Lexus and everyone goes out of the masjid to look at it and ooh and aah. A couple of weeks later, Brother So-and-so has his very own Lexus, because Allah forbid that his friend appear more prosperous than he is. He bought a $700,000 home at the height of the real estate market because that's what his wife insisted on, he put his kids in private school and gets a new iPhone every year, always insists on paying the tab at the shishah place, and invites his buddies over to watch the World Cup on his 56" flat screen plasma TV. All the men want to be close to him, want to be him, and secretly they envy him. They tell their wives what they saw when they went over to Brother So-and-So's house. "All the best food! Big screen TV! Surround sound!" Is there a mashaAllah in there anywhere? They don't know that he's mortgaged to the hilt and in debt up to his eyeballs. They only see the rich facade and don't know about the desperate scramble to keep the charade going.

Admiring someone's wealth is normal. I've visited the homes of friends who are well-off financially and I've enjoyed looking at their decor, the matching sofas without cornflakes mashed in the crevices, the wall art instead of crayon marks, the rugs that don't cover holes in the linoleum. I always say mashaAllah and then I go back to my shabby-not-chic suburban fixer-upper and look around at the cracked walls, scratched floor, suspect electrical wiring, and I sigh. Just for a bit. It's human nature. Then I stop and remind myself of my many blessings and the fact that I am much more free than many of the people around me. Freedom is a wonderful thing because you don't have to be afraid of "what if". What if I lose my job? What if my husband gets hurt and can't work? What if?...

If we had one of those challenges, it wouldn't be easy, but we would have a much shorter fall than someone who is living by mortgaging his future. I have a modest home with a matching modest house payment. My car is a '94, decently maintained, owned by me free and clear. It was only about $2000 when I bought it, and I only have to carry liability insurance because I don't have a loan on it. If something happens to it, Allah forbid, I won't be stuck with a $200 to $500 monthly commitment because some dude without insurance hit m and my insurance figured out some way to not pay up. We do have an iPhone, but it is essential for business so we get a tax writeoff for it. My personal phone is a stupid phone, not a smartphone, and we don't even pay for texting. Our electronics, kitchen appliances, washer and dryer, and pretty much everything else in our home is secondhand.

We once calculated how much money we'd be out if, Allah forbid, a catastrophe happened and all of our material possessions were swept away. What would we lose, and what would it take to replace everything? Let me tell you, because my husband is a haggler par excellence, it would be a fraction, a mere fraction of a fraction, of what another family would pay. And that makes me sleep much better at night.

Am I insecure because the food processor I use cost $5 instead of $100? Does my bread not taste as good because the dough was kneaded in a ten-year-old KitchenAid mixer? Are my kids less cute because their clothing came from a thrift store? Do my cookies not taste as good because I bought the cookie sheets at an auction? Heck no! I am proud of the fact that we don't have credit cards and we shop sales and thrift stores and flea markets and "use it up, wear it out, make do or do without" in order to avoid going into debt. We didn't always do this and trust me we made a lot of mistakes early on that took a lot of digging to get free of, but now we are living not-so-large and loving it.

I challenge each of you to look at how you are living your life, and see if you are buying items that truly enrich your lives, or if you are just caught up in the meaningless quest for stuff. I mean, how many pairs of shoes does a girl need? And if all your friends criticize you because you carry a Wal-mart purse instead of a Gucci bag (and you know theirs is a counterfeit anyway), then what kind of friends are they? Look at what you have, and what you want, and think about how you can save and where else you can use the money.

I'm NOT advocating being a cheapskate and never spending money on stuff. You know I've ranted in the past about people (mostly the menfolk) being too cheap to even buy a decent sofa or curtains for their home. I'm saying, save money where you can so you can have more to spend where you want. In our family, that means we ONLY eat takeout on Fridays (with rare exceptions for illness or some unexpected event). We ONLY rent movies from Redbox for $1, averaging about three movies a month. We drive used cars and wear used clothes and wait and save for larger purchases (hubby and I slept on a twin mattress for four months until we found a good enough bargain - free! - on a replacement queen mattress for our room). We SPEND money on stuff that is pleasing to us - hubby gets the occasional WaWa coffee, I buy lunch when I go out on my day off, I buy yarn for knitting and stuff for crochet. It's not a matter of never spending but it's a matter of figuring out what is important to you, budgeting for it, and not clogging up your life with so much crap that you feel like you're a slave to the stuff in your life. We liberated ourselves a few years ago. If you are interested in doing the same I'll be happy to share the details.

Pray the Gray Away

2011-10-11T19:08:00.001-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim
Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I have had a lifelong struggle with depression. I don't know why. There is no single incident I can point to that plunged me into the abyss. Was it a lack of nurturing, my mother smoking while I was in the womb? Did someone drop me on my head when I was an infant and damage some part of my brain? Was I exposed to pesticides, or red dye number 3, or too much Sesame Street, or not enough? No matter. The reality is that I have this issue, this situation, this problem. Now, at the age of 44, I'm just about ready to face it.

I won't bore you with the particulars. I know I am not alone in struggling with mental illness. Bi-polar disorder, depression, OCD, chronic anxiety - there is a long litany of illnesses that originate in the brain and which don't get the respect a more visible disease or condition might garner.

The stigma of mental illness is still strong, and among the Muslim community you can just about double or triple that. I guarantee you that many if not a majority of Muslims will deny the existence of mental illness. Depression, a scholarly sheikh will intone, is a result of low imaan, a lack of faith. If you get into a funk, sunk into a dark mood, lost in a world of gray, well, you only have yourself to blame. You should be able to "pray the gray away". Go wash yourself for prayer, says Sheikh So-and-So. Go pray and make not just your five prayers, but do extra prayers, and stay up for the night prayers, and listen to Qur'an and make supplications and do other extra acts of worship. Then you'll be fine. And ask Allah to forgive you for being depressed.

I am here to tell you that it is not as simple as that. Telling a depressed person to pray is like telling a drowning person with chains around his ankles to swim. Even if you can forget your preoccupation with not being able to breathe and your imminent death, trying to do a strong breast stroke is useless if the chains weigh you down so that you sink to the bottom of the ocean. Before you can swim, you have to loosen the chains so that you can struggle back up to the surface of the sea. Only then will you be able to try to paddle to safety.

Mental illness is right up there with domestic violence on the list of things the Muslim community does not cope well with. As a result, there are millions of Muslims who are forced to deny they are ill, who are made to feel lazy and useless, who are unable to live up to their potential because they are not given the opportunity to seek out wellness. There's nothing wrong with you. I'm not shelling out good money for you to see a shrink. I'm not paying the copay for medicine. You just need to get busy. You should be happy. You have kids, you have a house, you're financially secure. You are so ungrateful. Go pray... pray the gray away.

There needs to be a revolution. There needs to be an army of men and women who are Muslim and who have mental illness and who are no longer willing to stay quietly in the shadows, living half lives because their families are embarrassed by them. Only when we acknowledge the reality of mental illness can we start to seek a cure. The cure will have many facets, and as Muslims we know that it is permissible to seek a cure for illness. Indeed, we are committing a sin against ourselves if we don't seek help when we need it. There are doctors and therapists and dieticians and holistic and standard medicines. There are group meetings and online support boards and videos of cute animals and parks full of sunshine. There are tools with which to fight our illness; we just have to give ourselves permission to use them. I'm giving myself permission. How about you?

Women With Stuff on Their Heads, Doing Stuff

2011-10-07T10:01:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

There is a plethora of single-subject websites on the interwebs. You want to see a website about cute kittens? There is one. Puppies your thing? There's a website for you. How about people who dress badly? Yep. Toothpick art? Oh, yeah. One of my favorites is a website devoted to autocorrect mistakes on cellphones. Sometimes they make me laugh so hard I spit coffee on my laptop. Some sites are interesting; many are trivial or even downright stupid.

Today, I propose a new site. I'm going to call it "Women with stuff on their heads, doing stuff". I was inspired to create this website after reading the news this morning that three women will share the Nobel Peace Prize. The head shots show these ladies, Liberian President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Leymah Gbowee, and Tawakkul Karman. What struck me initially is that all three women are wearing headgear. Tawakkul Karman is a Muslim from Yemen and wears the hijaab. President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf and Leymah Gbowee are Liberian women who are pictured wearing traditional garments. They are all activists in the field of women's rights and human rights and they have pursued their passion under the most difficult circumstances. For their efforts to better the situation of women specifically and all humankind in general, they have been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. And they did while wearing stuff on their heads.

This is significant because there is a popular assumption out there that when Muslim women specifically wear religiously-mandated headgear, their IQ drops and they immediately become submissive doormats. So many times I have been asked if my husband "makes" me wear the long, loose, covering clothing I don when I go out of the house. "Uh, no, I do this all on my own, thank you.". It seems to be the second-most common question after "Aren't you hot in that?". Perhaps this award will finally put to rest the lie that a woman can't do great things unless she wears a power suit from some fancy retailer, or a short skirt with stiletto heels, or, conversely, an androgynous outfit from a unisex salon in SoHo.

I may not be able to run the 100 meter dash in my flowing robes, but I can take my kids to the park, shop for groceries, volunteer at a charity bake sale, change a flat tire, render first aid at an accident site, balance my checkbook, run a restaurant, bargain for a discount at the local thrift store, lecture, teach Arabic, make a funny joke, show compassion to a child, invent something, and if one of my kids runs out into the street, you can bet I can take off after him at a speed that would put Usain Bolt to shame. I can live in my clothing without being constantly aware of my clothing. Trust me, I spend a lot less time fretting over keeping my clothing in order than the people who obsess over the hijaab and who seem to make it their life's goal to "liberate" me from it.

Other women can learn a lot from these ladies. They need to learn that they don't have to torture themselves by sliding their poor feet into high heels that will throw off their balance and afflict them with back pain. They don't have to spend an hour in front of a mirror shellacking their hair into place, troweling on makeup to cover what is most likely a pretty decent face, obsessing over whether they can wear their fat clothes or if they have to skip breakfast and lunch to wear that tiny little skirt to dinner tonight. If women spent less time worrying about their wardrobe and more time thinking of the difference they can make in the world, well, look what can happen.

Back to the Blog

2011-10-05T09:30:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Ah, here I am! Where did I go? Well, I get lost in my mind from time to time and it takes a while for me to crawl out. I'm one of those people who, in times of great stress, draws inward. I cut my life down to the bare essentials - wake up, keep everyone fed and clothed, do what needs to be done so no one notices I'm not really "there", and then do it all over again the next day. Usually my moods don't last too long, but sometimes I get into an extended funk and I'm like "World, go away, I can't deal with you right now!". Alhamdulillah, I have the luxury of being able to dial down my productivity and still keep everything running. Family eats easy meals, bathroom might not get cleaned today, you have to wear yesterday's jeans, but I get the essentials done until I'm feeling better again.

My poor blog usually gets ignored when I'm feeling discombobulated. I have so many thoughts and ideas but they are all a-jumble in my brain. I stop and start writing, backspace and delete being the most often used keys. The electronic version of ripping pieces of paper out of a typewriter and crumbling it up in disgust. Since my passion is my writing it's like I get backed up. Mental constipation, and me without any literary laxative.

It's ironic that this bump in the road should hit when I'm in transition. You see, I've been invited to move my blog over to another site, Patheos.com. This site is a treasure trove of information about different religions and philosophies, and someone over there thought my blog would be a valuable contribution to the site, and I accepted their invitation. Now, I don't know anything about the technical aspects of moving a blog; I'm pretty sure no moving van will show up at my house with burly guys covered with tattoos ready to muscle my prose onto a hand truck. They assure me it is a relatively painless process. The funny thing is I actually had to fill out paperwork. I'm officially an independent contractor. I can now say I'm a freelance writer without stretching the truth. That and a buck fifty will get me a cup of coffee, but it is a bit of a stroke to my ego.

I went through the "Oh God, now I have to write more important stuff" argument with myself. I had a moment of panic and realized that it would not work for me to try to write to my audience. I have to write for myself and inshaAllah the audience will come. I don't want to pander to anyone or become an apologist for Islam or censor myself more than I do for the sake of decency and tact. I'll continue to write according to who I am. That means one day I may write a pages-long screed on the evils of polysorbate 80 in our mashed turnips, and the next day I'll tell you how absolutely hilarious it was watching one of my kids accidentally hit Daddy below the belt with a whiffle bat. I'll try to be topical and deal with issues of the day as well as ongoing issues within the Muslim community. I'll also toss in some purely educational stuff, along the lines of "betcha didn't know this". I won't try to be everything for everyone, but I'll try to be the best me I can be.

So, as soon as I fax my stuff to the fine folks at Patheos, I'll be moving on over there. I'll let you know how to get there and how to subscribe before I go. And I will always count you, my first followers, as the core of my blog family. Stay with me and inshaAllah we'll continue to learn together. Fi Aman Allah.

A Quick Note About Jinns and Angels in Islam

2011-09-25T09:42:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I just wanted to clear up a bit of confusion regarding the angels and the jinn. A revert coming particularly from a Christian background might be confused because in Christianity, angels are often portrayed as the spirits of our dead relatives (a beloved grandma who passed away is an "angel" looking down on us) an Jinn are either dismissed as fairy tales or considered to be fallen angels.

Islam is very clear. Indeed, one of the pillars of the faith is that angels exist. They are a creation of Allah that is different from humankind. Angels are created of light. They do not have free will. They are obedient servants of Allah who do not disobey Him in anything. We know the names of some, such as Jibreel and Mikaeel, upon them be peace. They never were human beings and their nature is different from us.

Jinn are a totally different creation from humans and angels. Jinns are created from smokeless fire, and in their natural state we cannot see them and in most cases humans do not interact with them. They have free will and they can choose to be Muslim or not Muslim. Iblees was a jinn of high status who used to spend much of his time in the company of angels; when he disobeyed Allah by refusing to prostrated to Aadam, upon whom be peace, he was cast out by Allah. He always was a jinn and was never an angel.

Humans of course are made of the mixed soils of the earth. We have free will, and if we exercise that free will to submit to Allah, our status can be higher than that of the angels. There is another creation, the hoor al ayn, that Allah will create as wives for men in Jannah, but that's another article.

InshaAllah this short article helps clear up the issue. Fi Aman Allah.

Why Would I Leave Islam?

2011-09-07T10:46:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

It's my anniversary, well, sort of. Eighteen years ago on Labor Day weekend, a Sunday, I said my Shahadah. I was standing in the front lobby of the Islamic Society of Greater Kansas City. I had just attended a class for the sisters, and everyone had left. The only ones still in the building were the Imaam, me, and some guy vacuuming. I was nervous. I had talked about saying my Shahadah with the ladies in the class; I planned to do it next week when when a certain significant friend could be there to witness, but they urged me to not delay, using the "what if you get hit by a bus?" argument. "It's not between you and your friend; it's between you and Allah." Well, can't argue with logic like that, so I mustered my courage and approached the Imaam, telling him I wanted to officially become Muslim. He stood with me out front by the bookcase so we would not be alone in any room; the vacuuming guy served as our noisy chaperone. I always enjoyed listening to this Imaam when he gave talks. His name was Adnan Bayazid and he was from Syria. His point of view was common sense Islam. He had a very easy personality but of course I was incredibly intimidated because he was an Imaam. He wasn't a pushover, either. He quizzed me on some of the major points of Islam to assure himself that I was doing this with knowledge. I must have passed his test because after a few minutes of questions, he asked me to repeat the testimony of faith after him:

"Ash hadu an la ilaha il Allah, wa ash hadu anna Muhammadur Rasool Allah"

"I bear witness that there is no god but Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad (peace be upon him) is the Messenger of Allah"

He was clearly pleased. He congratulated me and then told me, with emphatic hand gestures, that anything I had done wrong, any sins or regrets I had, were gone, forgotten. This more than anything proved my undoing, and I began to cry due to the enormity of what I had done. He quickly excused himself before he, too, could get emotional, and I walked back into the multi-purpose room and leaned on a table and cried my eyes out. I was happy but emotionally worn out by the time I left for home.

Fast forward eighteen years and here I am, older, maybe wiser, maybe not, married for twelve years with five kids, living in suburbia and trying to help others have a bit of an easier time traveling the path I and so many other reverts have trod. I've been through the many phases of Islam. The "SuperConvertitis" phase, where I tried to out Islam everyone else. The burnout phase, where I just wanted to not think about Islam at all, the barely doing the minimum phase where only guilt and fear of Hellfire kept me going, and the phase I'm in now. It's kind of a comfortable phase. I'm steadfast in my faith, I know where my weaknesses are and I don't beat myself up for them anymore, and I try to maximize my strong points. I'm not a "haraam alaik-er" and I'm not so easygoing that I'll simply smile and nod if I see a Muslim eating a ham sandwich and drinking a beer outside the masjid on Friday. I think I've found my niche as a Muslim and it is in writing and trying to be an uplifting presence - not a role model, I'm not good enough for that - for my brothers and sisters in Islam. I also make it a point to occasionally poke the hornet's nest of problems in the Ummah so that people realize that we have to be more proactive in living and teaching Islam. I'm not Super Muslimah, and I'm okay with that.

I just read on one of my Facebook groups that one of our sisters has left Islam, and it got me to thinking. Here I am, Muslim for eighteen years, well settled in my faith, knowledgeable to a degree, not prone to histrionics. What could motivate a person, once guided, to abandon the faith? What could make me consider leaving Islam, even for a moment?

Wow, what a topic, eh? Why would I leave Islam? Well, part of me would say it's too damn hard. Waking up at godawful in the morning, having to pray five - five! - times a day. Making wudu. Walking around with my body parts dripping wet is not comfortable. Having to pray every day at set times. I don't even brush my teeth every day. Not being able to eat bacon. I know I can eat beef bacon or turkey bacon, but that's at home. I have to be a damned private investigator and quiz every restaurant employee, read every label. Is there pork in this? Do you make the sauce with wine? This eternal food vigilance is tiring and I look at all the great places featured on Food TV and think, Can't eat there, or there, or there, can't even enter that country, dang place is full of pork, sheesh. I have to feel guilty or leave if I visit my mom and she has a bottle of beer or a glass of wine with dinner. I pack my kids' lunch every day in case there's some sneaky pork in the school menu. It is, frankly, a hassle. It would be easier just to ignore it.

And covering. Wearing abaya and hijab. I've been doing it almost since right after I became Muslim. Is it hard? No, not really. I'm no fashionista and most of the time I love the abaya because I can toss it on, throw on a scarf, and I'm dressed for any occasion, no muss, no fuss. No one has to see the sweats underneath. But boy, some days I feel like I just want to rip off the scarf and feel the wind in my hair, the sun baking down on top of my bare head. I want to wear jeans and a t-shirt when I'm playing with the kids in the yard. I want to not trip over the stairs every single time I bring up the groceries. I want to not have to rush to throw something on, fumbling with snaps and wraps, when the UPS guy drops off a package or someone who turns out to be a little kid knocks on my door. I want to go swimming in a normal one-piece suit instead of a burqini.

I want to go out of the house and look like everyone else. I want to be invisible at Wal-mart so that the mean-looking lady doesn't give me the evil eye. I want to not have to worry about what's going on in someone's head when they see me. I'm not super self-conscious about it, but somewhere in the back of my mind is just the tiniest bit of awareness that some day, somewhere, some idiot might confront me or, worse, try to physically assault me, simply because of what I represent with my clothing. It'd be nice to not have to worry about that.

The Muslims. Sigh. Sometimes I want to disassociate myself from Islam just because there are stupid, idiot, ignorant, jackass people who call themselves Muslim who say and do the most idiotic things. Afghans growing opium, honor killings, acid attacks, subjugation of women, female genital mutilation, corrupt governments, bribery, cheating in business, hypocrisy. As Yusuf Islam, the former Cat Stevens, is famously quoted as saying "Thank God I learned about Islam before I met Muslims". Frankly, sometimes it's just embarrassing to be identified as Muslim. It's like someone finding out you're related to one of the Kardashians or a serial killer. It's kinda hard to live down. I don't like having to give the "all Muslims are not terrorists" speech all the time.

I think the hardest thing about being Muslim, at least for me, is being aware of being Muslim all the time. I have a highly refined guilt complex, so I am immediately aware if something I am doing is haraam, forbidden. I keep the radio on the news station. From time to time I'll check out the local pop music station and listen to a few songs. Wow, they sound gooooood... and then I'll immediately feel guilty. Why am I not listening to Qur'an or at least nasheeds? But don't listen to too many nasheeds or that will be haraam too because you should be listening to Qur'an. Well, maybe I'll listen to some classical music and that will be less haraam.... Oh, and TV. I watch the news and food shows and football. Should I be watching football? All those hunky guys in tight uniforms. Well, maybe if I only look at the offensive linemen, who are over 300 pounds and not really hunky at all. I'll just listen and not focus on the screen. But here comes a beer commercial. Haraaaaaam!

Ugh, there I go again. Islam is so hard. Islam requires that we be conscious human beings, aware of our surroundings, aware of wasting food, aware of how we deal with the opposite sex, aware of how we behave in business, aware of what we expose our kids to, aware of our environment, aware of how the less fortunate are abused, aware of ourselves, aware of our duty to Allah, aware of the fact that life is short and there's this big huge thing called Judgment Day. And sometimes it gets to be overwhelming and I feel like I'll never measure up and I can't do this and I'm failing and why the hell should I keep trying because I'm tired and I just want to be an unconscious not-thinking-about-the-afterlife-all-the-time normal person. And dammit I just want to go to Burger King and order a bacon cheeseburger and eat it and enjoy it.

So, yeah, I've wondered what it would be like to not be Muslim anymore.

So what stops me?

Belief.

"Ash hadu an la ilaha il Allah, wa ash hadu anna Muhammadur Rasool Allah."

I believe in One God, without partners. I believe that Allah sent messengers and prophets to teach us what was in the Books He revealed. I believe in angels, and I believe in a Day of Judgment, and I believe in Allah's Divine Decree. Logically, in my unromantic linear little German heart, I believe in Tauheed. I believe that we fragile, short-sighted human beings need rules and regulations to keep us from royally screwing up our lives. I see the proof of that all around me in society. I believe that Islam is true, that when I look at it honestly with the knowledge of my own frailties, that all the do's and don'ts are really necessary. We like to think we are strong and moral and self-regulating, but we're lying to ourselves. If we had no fear of Allah, most of us would be cheating on our spouses, smoking pot, drinking whiskey, cheating our bosses, or doing something else that is bad for us or for others, all the while smugly saying "I can do it because I am strong and I won't let it get the better of me". I believe in Islam.

I believe in Islam. I didn't convert to Islam for a guy or because I thought the clothing made me look exotic, or to rebel against my family, or to justify my sense of being different from everyone else. I became Muslim because I had to. Once I realized that Islam was the truth, I couldn't not become Muslim, even in the face of corrupt Muslim governments, idiotic Muslims abusing women, growing opium, misinterpreting their own scripture, and all that. Even if I fell down and fell short every day of my life. Even if I had the hardest time keeping concentration long enough to make wudu and get to the prayer rug. Even if I still tuned in Lady Gaga once or twice. Even if I watched a rated R movie. Even if, on a hot, humid, sultry day in mid-August I wanted to rip off my hijab and run through the sprinkler in shorts and a tank top.

Even if someone hurls insults at me. Even if someone tries to tear off my hijab. Even if someone abuses my kids. Even if my husband loses a job because of his beard. Even if my family hates me. Even if my non-Muslim friends leave me. Even if I have to leave my home country. Even if someone holds a knife to my throat and tells me to renounce my faith or they'll kill me. Even if I were the only Muslim on the planet, or the only Muslim on the planet striving to live as a Muslim. Even if.

"Ash hadu an la ilaha il Allah, wa ash hadu anna Muhammadur Rasool Allah."

I am a Muslim. I am a weak, frail, moody, anxious, hyperactive, attention-deficit-disorder, bad housecleaning, prayer-missing, ungrateful, overeating, underexercising, too-long-blog-post-writing Muslim. I will continue to fall down, I will continue to struggle, but I will never, never stop being Muslim. I am weak but Allah has guided me and how can I be so ungrateful as to turn my back on Him? Allah is One. Once I realized that, I never had a choice.

Alhamdulillah, Have to Count Our Blessings

2011-08-27T20:44:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Originally this post was going to be a vehement screed against improper behavior in the masjid. Well, not just "the masjid" in general, but in the masjid my family goes to. My husband has been spending the odd nights of the last ten days of Ramadan in itikaaf, and last night was the 27th. He came home directly after fajr, frustrated and definitely not in the spiritual, contemplative mood of someone who had spent the night in 'ibaadah seeking Lailat al Qadr. The tale he told had me shaking my head in disgust, and I was all set to run to the computer and put it all down for posterity. Full of righteous indignation, my intention was nonetheless stymied by the approach of Hurricane Irene and the necessity of battening down the hatches, making sure the kids had snacks, and taking a nap - rough day, I tell you.

So, now it's about 8:30 in the evening. We've broken our fast, had a nice dinner, watched the wind and the rain, and cleared the table. I have some down time, so I decided to write. But what to write?

Well, I'm not going to glorify the goings on in the masjid by enumerating them; suffice it to say that there were more signs of Yaum al Qiyaamah than Lailat al Qadr. It's sad when a man who wants to much to attach his heart to the masjid has to run from it in order to avoid fitnah. SubhanAllah. I guess that's all I'll say... subhanAllah.

The reason I decided to uncharacteristically shut my mouth is that I'd rather concentrate on the good and beautiful things going on in my life. My one year old, Zaid, has learned how to give sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. Mervat knows the first part of her ABC song. Yasin is reading already before starting kindergarten. Yusef is reading chapter books and told me he wished he could marry me. Abdel Hamid is loving his school. Sherif is spending time with us and sharing what he's learned at his halaqah. I made some new Facebook friends and found an old "real world" friend whose life has changed in ways I can't imagine, but who is just as precious to me because in the important things she hasn't changed a bit. The storm is raging outside but the lights are still on and there's soda in the fridge and cake on the counter. Oh, and mango frozen yogurt in the freezer.

I could go on and on about fitnah and unIslamic stuff and blah-de-blah-de-blah. Perhaps another time I will write about the issues, not just here locally but in the Ummah as a whole. Y'all know me by now - I'm not shy about speaking my mind. But now, in the last ten days of Ramadan, I am not going to let these negative people have space inside my head. It is an unnecessary distraction and will only serve to make me angry and sad, and I'm not-going-to-let-that-happen. Nope, no way.

I have prayers to pray and surahs to read and kids to kiss goodnight and a baby to tickle. I have kittens to pet and a husband to talk to and dishes that need to be washed, that cake that needs to be eaten, weather reports to watch. I'm much too busy to deal with the fitnah-fest right now, and I'm so blessed that I can calm down my husband and provide him a safe refuge from all the stuff he sees in and out of the masjid. I'm going to say goodnight to you all now and go chill out with my family, and reserve the snarky Nancy for another time. Because I know so many of you are enjoying your blessings and boosting your imaan and helping others and I don't want to be Buzzkill Betty in the face of all that. So salaam alaikum, I love you for the sake of Allah, and don't worry - the snarky me will be back at a later date.

Lailat al Qadr, You Say? I'm Not Feelin' It....

2011-08-26T21:19:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Okay, so tonight is the 27th of Ramadan. We are instructed to look for Lailat al Qadr, the Night of Power, in the odd nights of the last ten days, with particular emphasis on the 27th. My husband left for the masjid before iftaar, and I am here home with the kids. Sigh.

The kids. The one who came home crying from school because his brother got a bottle of soap bubbles to play with from the prize box in his class and he didn't. The one who was whiny all day because she didn't like the incense I used in the bathroom and wanted me to drag her potty out into the hall. The one who was fussy all day, wanting to nurse constantly and play in the cats' litter box and eat their food. Those kids. Oh, and did I mention there's a hurricane on the way?

I went out today to get some last essentials. Alhamdulillah, it wasn't too bad. I think most of the commuters from Washington D.C. were still on the road coming home so the worst press of humanity had not hit Wal-mart when I went. Being the super wonderful mom I am, I bought soap bubbles for all so the crying son would be happy. That lasted as long as the bubbles did. I refilled everyone's bottle twice, but that was not enough to stave off tears from the whiny girl or the sad boy when I said enough and made them come inside. Because, you know, there's a hurricane on the way.

Home again, my husband asked me to email the customers whose packages are late because he's behind due to making itikaaf. Sigh. I love answering angry emails. I tried to rest for a few minutes then headed to the kitchen to make a simple dinner, burgers, chicken patties, pretzels, chips, and soda. Did I mention I'm burned out on iftaars? Two of the kids refused to eat at all, one nibbled around the perimeter of the chicken patty. I could have just let them have cereal for all the effort was appreciated. I cleared the table and my son neglected to wash dishes or fill the water bottles so I have gently remind him. Because, you know, he only has to do it every day of his life so naturally he forgot. Oh, and did I mention there's a hurricane on the way?

So now it's 9pm and time for the kids to go to bed. I did manage to make some mango frozen yogurt, a necessary task before the mango turned bad. I'm waiting for the second batch to process and then I'll put it in the freezer to harden up. It will be a treat for hubby tomorrow inshaAllah for iftaar. Assuming, of course, that we don't lose electricity and have the contents of our fridge and freezer melting away. Because, you know, there's a hurricane on the way.

I woke up tired. The kind of dopey tired that makes even simple tasks like tying shoes into monumental ones. Alhamdulillah there were no aftershocks last night - remember we had an earthquake just a few days ago - but late to bed and early for suhoor then kids with two different school schedules makes for an early and hectic morning. The baby wouldn't let me go back to bed so I was up, stumbling through my daily tasks and looking forward to nightfall not, I have to admit, because I was looking for Lailat al Qadr but because I was desperately looking for bedtime I slammed down a couple of Mountain Dews with iftaar so the sugar and caffeine are keeping me going for now, so I'm just waiting for the kids to go to bed like I told them four or five times so I can settle down, read Qur'an, then listen to Qur'an, and maybe get a bit of my mojo back.

I know raising kids is 'ibaadah, and I consider myself a dedicated mommy, but I am so looking forward to all of them being a little older and more independent so I can focus on myself more. I want my Ramadan to be tarawih and lectures and companionship and learning. At the moment it is cooking and laundry and diaper changing and moderating battles over toys. Speaking of diaper changing, my kids are informing me that their baby brother has done a poopy so I'd best take care of that so the little booger doesn't develop a rash. And I have to yell at the boys because they keep running out of their room and fighting. And the baby is trying to get under the bed to get the kittens - did I mention the cat had another litter? - and Mervat is running around shaking some maraca-like toy and oh, by the way, did I mention there's a hurricane on the way?

Ramadan So Far

2011-08-24T23:29:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

How is my Ramadan going so far? Am I spending my days in constant remembrance of Allah? Am I devoting more time to study and acts of 'ibaadah? Am I feeling a huge spiritual uplift this time of year? Well, for me it's both simple and complicated. I do remember Allah all during the day, but that is a really everyday thing for me. I think it's part of my anxiety / guilt complex, but I am always AWARE of being Muslim, always aware of my actions and how they are Islamic or unIslamic. I'm always weighing what I do or say or even think. Sometimes I envy people their ability to simply live in the moment without any concept of religion or duty or consequences, while I'm wracked with guilt because I happened to sing along to an old Stone Temple Pilots song I heard while changing stations on the radio. So to say I'm remembering Allah more wouldn't really be correct. I am doing a bit more dhikr, saying subhanAllah, alhamdulillah, and Allahu akbar after some of my prayers and even using the tasbeeh beads to keep track of my istighfaar. I usually don't use the dhikr beads, preferring to use my fingers, but sometimes having something in my hands helps me focus more. I only do it when I'm alone because I don't want anyone to think I'm some holier-than-thou Muslimah mumbling with my beads 24/7.

Am I feeling more spiritual? No, not really. A lot of that is just because my nature is very grounded and logical. I did not fall in love with Islam by listening to the Adhan while visiting an exotic Muslim land. I do not weep when I pray. I don't feel transcendent in my prayers. I fidget and get distracted and have to just about staple my feet to the musallah to stay where I am and get through four raka'ats. I am a very practical Muslimah. I believe one hundred percent in Islam. I am convinced of the truth of tauheed and the importance of living according to the laws set down by Allah. I struggle with the discipline of prayer but I believe in it absolutely. I love reading books about Islam, books on hadith and tafsir and history and stories of the prophets, and am more comfortable with them than I am with listening to Qur'an. I have a mental block against memorizing, not just Qur'an but Arabic vocabulary, and it frustrates me and makes me feel guilty - ah, there goes that guilt again! - that I memorize in such fits and starts. I didn't make any grand promise to myself to finish memorizing Juz 'Amma. I just said I'd try to work on surat ad-Duha. I have gotten about halfway through and haven't worked on it in several days. I imagine I'll get back to it and finish it someday soon, inshaAllah. Or perhaps not, distracted by work and kids and house and exhaustion from getting up so early. Only time will tell.

I've been Muslim almost 18 years now and I'm mostly comfortable with my approach to Islam. I know there are more emotional types and more practical types. There is room in Islam for the Abu Bakrs and the Uthmaans. I do wish I was able to lose myself in my Islam more, that I could quiet the unease in me and just "be" in the moment when I am praying or reading or listening to Qur'an, but that is not my nature and I know that Allah knows what's going on in my heart and my brain and that I am devoted to Islam unconditionally. So even though I'm not a "good" Muslim, I know I'm a striving Muslim in my heart even when my actions are falling behind. I don't rest on my laurels thinking that I can just coast along and Allah will forgive my shortcomings, but now, after probably the first fifteen years of being Muslim, I no longer constantly mentally berate myself for when I do something wrong.

Tonight is the 25th night of Ramadan. The kids are in bed, I actually prayed the ishaa' on time, and I read up to and into the 26th Juz in English. I found my dhikr beads and inshaAllah after I spend some time online I will make istighfar and recite some du'a that I read in Sahih al Bukhari. I usually don't put on Qur'an when I'm trying to sleep because I end up trying to listen and hear what is being said and then that keeps me awake, but I've had about four iced coffees so I think I'll be up for a while. I'll check Facebook and say hello to some friends and comment on some status updates, and then I'll try to find some nice websites to read or maybe work on that surah. I ask Allah to forgive me and to support me and help me to be more productive in all areas of my life. My mantra is one day at a time and so far it's been working.

Mervat woke up for suhoor....

2011-08-16T05:01:00.000-04:00

As usual, I stumbled out of bed this morning at o-dark-thirty to make suhoor. I repeated my morning ritual of opening the fridge and staring at the contents. As before, nothing jumped out at me so I grabbed the eggs and bread. In a burst of creativity, I decided on scrambled eggs today instead of fried, and toast on the side. Oh, and I prepared a pizza bagel for my son, who had asked me the night before that if I could please make one for him that would be great, but if I was too tired he'd understand. Great kid. How can you say no to that?

So I'm well into the morning routine when, to my surprise, my three year old daughter Mervat pads into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. This was not in my schedule. I was used to the baby waking up and crying, but Mervat, well, Mervat talks. She talks. She comments on what she sees and asks questions. Moreover, she expects answers. "Good morning Mommy." "What are you doing Mommy?" "Oh, you making food for the boys Mommy?" "I sit next to you Mommy.". "Is this my water, Mommy?" "I like butter." Her monologue continues as I make the food, and I answer as best I can with grunts and monosyllables. Abdel Hamid comes into the kitchen and stands there dazed. After a minute, he desperately shushes his sister, to no avail. She is wide awake.

"Why you allowed to eat when you... why you...allowed to eat next to the computer?" "Cause I'm a grownup." "Oh." "Mommy, don't eat my toast". My husband and son have already fled the table. Abdel Hamid foolishly decides to go to the bathroom, foolish because of course the moment he does Mervat realizes she has to go as well. "Open the door, I have to go to the baf-room". "Close the door". She comes back afterwards, brushing her mussed hair out her face, and grabs a crust of toast, heading now to the living room where her brother is hunkering under a blanket until the adhan calls. Her chattering is infectious. Looking at the cat, who is up hoping for scraps, he says "You know, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a tail". I grunt in answer. I mean, how can you answer that? Fortunately he doesn't seem to want a conversation so I swallow the last of the toast and put the plate away.

"Why you need a bowl? Why you need... why I need a bowl?" "It's a plate." "What? It's a plate? Why you need a plate?" "So you don't get crumbs all over." Munch, munch, munch. Her chattering continues and I consider going to sleep in the car after fajr. Sigh. Instead I clear the table and head to my room. Five minutes until fajr. Five minutes until she has to be silent because she has finally learned not to talk while we're praying. Five long minutes. I spend the time asking Allah to give me patience. Patience, and earplugs.

Hitting the Suhoor Wall....

2011-08-15T05:21:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah.

Halfway through Ramadan. The alarm clock went off on time. Bleary-eyed, I stumble to the kitchen to make suhoor, the morning meal that is supposed to sustain us throughout the day of fasting. I stand there in front of the refrigerator, staring at the contents, contemplating what to make. I start rummaging through yogurt containers, none of which actually contain yogurt. Hmm... cucumber salad, leftover pasta, chicken livers. Nope. I open the cupboards that I just cleaned out the other day, casting my eyes over cans of corn and tomatoes. Nuh-uh. Finally my gaze falls on a carton of eggs sitting on the counter. I default to egg sandwich mode. I really don't want to cook anything but I can't stand the idea of making a smoothie. The blender would be way too loud, and I know the blueberries had partially thawed before I put them in the freezer and I'd have to hack off a corner from the bag with a butcher knife in order to get enough to use. Sigh. At least I can cook an egg on autopilot.

Skillet on, lube it up, crack eggs, put toast in toaster. Grab cream cheese. Stand over eggs, watching the egg white solidify, breaking the yolks with a corner of the spatula. Jump in surprise as the toast pops up. Flip eggs. Turn off heat. Schmear cream cheese on toast. Deposit eggs on top. Take to table, fetch bottle of water from fridge, place everything in front of husband and son. Sit. Contemplate package of danishes on table. Cream cheese danish? Nah, raspberry, bleh. Open package of danishes and eat anyway. Drink from son's cup of water. Look at bag of dates. Sigh.

I believe you could say I have hit the suhoor wall. I'm not a morning person. I don't like to get up in the dark and then have to function. I don't like to eat when I first wake up. I can barely manage a desultory "salaam alaikum" to my husband and son. I started out okay. Like most people, I began Ramadan in high spirits with high energy. I made nice breakfasts of turkey bacon and eggs. I served delicious high-protein energy drinks and made pretty plates of dates and cheese. I turned on the lights to wake myself up, jollied myself along, and even stayed up after fajr and read Qur'an. For the last few days, though, I've been slipping. Now, I'm at the point where suhoor is going to be a ziplock bag full of dates tossed on the table and a cup of water and you darn well better like it, bub. Half of Ramadan left. I think I'd better go to the store to try to find inspiration and something new to make. That or hire a personal chef to take over the duties from here til the end of the month.

I'm sitting here now at the dining room table typing and the adhan is going off on the computer downstairs in the office. It filters through the floorboards and sounds muffled,. I haven't heard this particular adhan before. Sounds nice. The call to prayer rouses me a bit and I figure I'm ready to go make wudu and pray the fajr. I'll ask Allah to forgive me for my lack of enthusiasm this morning, and thank Him for providing me with enough food to serve my family, and the electricity with which to cook the eggs, and the fresh clean water to drink. If the baby doesn't wake up, I might try to go back to sleep, or I might force myself to turn on the light and read for a bit so I don't get behind on my daily Qur'an portion. First I have to get up from this chair though, so excuse me while I blink the last of the sleep from my eyes and try to find where I left my prayer dress. Yawn. A new day is beginning and though I'm not the most energetic person, I feel good that I did manage to wake up and feed my family a meal, however simple, and spit in the eye of Shaitan who would encourage me to burrow under the covers and go back to sleep. To hell with you, Shaitan. I did it. I woke up. So there.

Read to Feed - A Program for Masaajid

2011-08-08T07:51:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Okay, so I was a good girl and got up promptly when the alarm went off this morning. I made a nice suhoor (pre-fast meal) of eggs, turkey bacon, toast, and dates. Yes, I buttered the toast, but no jam. The baby woke up with us, which makes preparing food a challenge. I can’t really trust my drowsy husband to keep track of him because, well, let’s just say Sherif is not terribly effective when he first wakes up (translate: he’s a zombie). So I did suhoor then fajr came in and then Zaid was wide awake so I stayed up with him while everyone else went back to bed.

Eventually the little monster – uh, sweetheart – slept and of course instead of going to sleep myself I went on Facebook. Yeah, pitiful, I know. So I was catching up on Project Conversion and my friend Andrew Bowen had written a new blog post wherein he challenged Muslims to put our money where our mouth is in regards to feeding the hungry. Go read the post. Don’t worry, I’ll wait….

Okay, back? Good. Well, his post inspired me. I decided to start a program in our masjid called “Read to Feed”. Last year, my son’s elementary school instituted this program. Students read books. Students take a test on each book and then are awarded points based on the size and complexity of the book, from one point for a beginner book read by a Kindergarten student to up to forty points for a multi-chapter book. The school kept track of all points, and for every 10,000 points, they donated $500 to a local food bank. Now, sure, they could have just solicited donations from families, but by tying the money to the accomplishments of the children, they were able to teach the kids the value of reading and the value of helping out in the community. I know my son felt very proud of his contribution to the effort, and indeed he was recognized and was given an award for most points at the end of the year, masha Allah.

So. How about it? I think it would be a noble cause and it can easily be adapted to our masaajid. I also started A Facebook page so people all over the world could share information, give ideas, and perhaps start programs in their own communities. Not bad for an idea that arose out of sleeplessness, huh? See, there is a real blessing in staying up after fajr .

I hope you will join me as I try to establish this program. I’ve never done anything like this before so I will need all the input and creative criticism I can get. So mosey on over to Facebook and join the page, will ya? Jazaak Allah Khair.

Getting My Ramadan Mojo Back

2011-07-19T19:35:00.000-04:00

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Okay, I have a confession to make. I rarely have a good Ramadan. What is supposed to be a month of spirituality, sacrifice, contemplation, and joy has usually been for me well, kinda like every other month of the year. My husband, bless his heart, is not an organizer and not the kind of person who himself will "upsell" the season or try to ramp us up. I am the one who says "Let's get off caffeine and fast on Monday and Thursday to start preparing for Ramadan". He happily goes along, but he doesn't usually initiate changes. I miss this because I am NOT a natural leader. I'll be happy to follow along and if someone tells me there's something to do and when to be there, I'll be there early and eagerly. Sadly, this is not my life.

It seems like every Ramadan sneaks up on me unawares. First of all, I've been pregnant or nursing for about the last six years or so. I have had pregnancies where I am "high risk" so it was inadvisable for me to fast. I tried a couple of times and ended up alarming my doctor, so I said "Alhamdulillah ala kulli hal" and figured I'd make it up later. Well, now it's later. My youngest is a vibrant busy one year old who eats table food and nurses as much for comfort as nutrition. I am, as far as I know (ya Rabb) not pregnant. Don't ask me about the cat, though... Anyway, this year I can fast, so I'm hoping that will help me to participate more. Fasting in summer is not going to be easy but that's kinda the point.

Spiritually I've not been plugged in to the Muslim community for a long, long time. I'm Facebook and Twitter; most of the ladies, lovely though they are, are not plugged in that way. I tried handing out business cards when I first moved here. I tried to get a sisters' halaqah started. I've called, cajoled, had my husband talk to their husbands. Eventually I just didn't try much anymore. And it's a shame, because the sisters in my town are nice. Just insular, I guess. There are a few ladies who are pretty much on the same wavelength as I am and we keep in touch, but with five kids it's very challenging for me to get out and about. So I'm isolated from the community, and that's never a good thing.

It also seems that somehow the Shaitan gets super-busy in the runup to Ramadan and he gets in between my husband and me. We always have some sort of a dustup around this time of year. Eventually it gets sorted out but it certainly puts us in a bad mood and then we're both ticked off and ignoring each other so no one orders dates or calls to see if there's a lecturer coming to the masjid that night.

It's hard trying to make Ramadan meaningful in the U.S. I don't have the vast Muslim populace around me to bolster my mood or help me get into a routine. For most everyone, it's just summer. Hot, muggy, summer. People are talking swimming, pool parties, beerfests, and barbecues. I'm thinking fasting, iftar, tarawih (which I haven't gone to in years), and how in the heck am I going to get up for suhoor when the baby still isn't sleeping through the night.

So, there it is. That's my confession. Ramadan has been a time of stress and isolation instead of a time of piety and community. A lot of it is my fault; a lot of it is situational. I couldn't get out when I had a passel of little kids. I couldn't spend a lot of money on clothing or extra food or decorations. I couldn't do a lot, so I didn't do much of anything. Sad, huh?

Well, this year I will try to be different. I plan to push myself to get it together, prepare, get out of the house, go to the masjid for tarawih and iftaar at least a few times, host a couple of iftaars, and work with the kids to give them a sense of what we are doing and why. Alhamdulillah, this year I am fasting. Alhamdulillah, they recently started a sisters' halaqah at the masjid and I'm set to attend on Thursday, inshaAllah. Alhamdulillah, we already earmarked money to have an Eid party for the kids at home, which we decided to do as an alternative to birthday parties. Alhamdulillah, I am starting, fitfully, to work with the kids, taking them aside for a few minutes a day to tell them what Ramadan is and to teach the boys the 99 Names of Allah. Alhamdullillah, I am planning on getting a sitter for the kids so hubby and I can go up to the main Muslim center of the area to stock up before the fasting begins, and I am already thinking about outfits for the kids. I plan inshaAllah to get a nice abaya for myself, too, inshaAllah. Mentally, I think I am better prepared and even though I am still struggling with low moods I am getting better at bulling my way through it and not letting it stop me in my tracks. And I'm really, really going to bite my tongue and not say anything that might conceivably be taken the wrong way by my husband so we don't have a spat.

There's no telling if these good intentions will survive the month, but at least I'm aware of the challenges and I think I have the tools to make this Ramadan a much better one than previously. Now, if I can make it through Ramadan and to the Eid, maybe, just maybe I'll figure out a way to make everyone be quiet so I can actually hear the Eid khutbah. Hmmm....that might be asking for too much....

The Apparent Injustice of this World

2011-07-17T11:25:00.000-04:00

Rabbi Schmuley Boteach wrote an article that appeared on Huffingtonpost.com decrying the senseless brutal murder of a young boy on his way home from day camp. This boy lived in the supposedly safe and insular Orthodox Jewish neighborhood of Borough Park in New York. This boy, Leiby Kletzky, had only eight short blocks to navigate. He became lost and stopped to ask a stranger for directions. You might think, hmm, didn't his parents raise him better? But this particular stranger had the bona fides of Orthodox Judaism - he wore the yarmulke, the headcovering favored by observant Jewish men. It just so happened that this particular Jew was merely an animal disguised as a human being. Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, the garb he wore was less an indication of piety and more a way to fit in and not be noticed. He took the boy and later killed and dismembered him. Police found body parts in the man's freezer.

As Rabbi Boteach mentions in his article, we can probably conclude that this man, like Jared Loughner, who killed several people in Arizona, suffers from some severe mental illness. Perhaps he hallucinated or heard voices. He is currently on suicide watch in jail. There is no rational reason for one human being to brutalize another in this way. Rabbi Boteach tries to understand, tries to find some reason that this brutal crime was allowed to happen, and comes up dissatisfied. He concludes by stating that "...G-d...has a lot of explaining to do".

I agree that this killing was senseless and that the shocking nature of it will stop anyone with a shred of humanity in his tracks. We cannot fathom the mind of the evil or the insane. We simply have to put it down to Allah's Divine Decree, or Qadr as it is called in Arabic. This heinous crime may have gotten Rabbi Boteach's attention, but it certainly not an uncommon thing for a child to die in a horrendous fashion. Most often the deaths simply happen out of reach of the media. Children die every day, unremarked by CNN or Fox News.

A few days ago, a Muslim woman in New Jersey died in childbirth; her twins died as well. She left behind a grieving husband and three other children. In April, a U.S. drone attack in Pakistan killed twenty-five, including women and children. No doubt their bodies were abused by the deadly shell just as poor Leiby's was by his killer. In Somalia in April, 300 children were left for dead on the side of the road while their families journeyed to a refugee camp. In Thailand, young girls sold into sex slavery die every day of diseases and addiction. In the Chicago in the U.S., there were 68 murder victims between the ages of 13 and 18 last year.

See, there is murder and mayhem aplenty in our world. It only comes to our attention when it happens within our family or social circle. Otherwise, we simply carry on with our lives, oblivious to the deaths happening every second. Then, when it comes crashing into our lives, we wonder "How can a Just God allow this to happen?".

You know, He just does. Allah created and sustains the universe and when He created it and then created Aadam, peace be upon him, He set in motion the biggest test in the universe. He gave humans free will and allowed us to use that free will to become something greater than the angels, or lower than the most savage beasts of the earth. He gave us the tools we needed to flourish - a world of beautiful vistas chock-full with food and water. He gave us guidance in the form of prophets, messengers, and Books. Over the centuries some men have risen to the challenge of being human. Others have chosen to crawl in the mud and prey on the helpless. It is part and parcel of our world. Some of us get flowers and sunshine; others get something else.

It can be a challenge to our faith in God when something like this happens, but we have to hold fast to one truth: death is death, and no matter the manner of our death, once we are dead, we are dead, and we don't really care if our body is lying peacefully in a bed surrounded by loved ones or chopped up in bits and served with a nice bottle of Chianti in some Hannibal Lecter nightmare. The manner of our death is not important; how we lived our lives is. I'd rather be a chopped up body with a soul that is destined for Jannah than a well-preserved corpse whose recently departed soul is heading for the Fire. The horror of a violent death is not ours, anyway. It is reserved for those who survive us, who have to deal with the aftermath of mayhem, who have to miss the departed loved one and come to grips with their manner of death. Leiby's life is over; he will never be in pain again. And as a child, he will not be held to account on the Day of Judgment. What parent can wish more for his child than that he gets a free pass into Paradise? Our test, the test of the survivors, is to make sure we live Godly lives so we can be in Jannah with our departed loved ones.

Rabbi Boteach, God doesn't have any explaining to do. He already told us that this world is a test and that we will be tried. Our tests are not noble or pretty; we don't get to wrestle with angels or write an essay. Our tests are earth-shaking and soul-shattering: cancer, a tsunami, a car crash, the death of a child. These tests, these horrible, ugly, real world tests are where we have to rely on the true Justice of God and know that He will set things aright in the end. Everything will be made right on Judgment Day, and those who are destined for Jannah will have every hurt healed, every sad memory expunged, every horror undone. We just have to have the faith to stay strong until then.

My heart goes out to the family of Leiby Kletzky and I pray that they and the entire Jewish community will be comforted in the knowledge that no one can ever hurt him again. May Allah give us the patience to bear with dignity and grace the tests He places in our lives, Ameen.

Inter-cultural Marriage - A Word to the Brothers

2011-07-14T08:33:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Marriage is hard. I don't care if you grew up on the same street, fell in love in grade school, have the exact same ethnic background, and have a million dollars and mansions in five countries. Marriage is hard. When you marry someone from another culture, marriage is harder.

I've spoken about marriages between people of different faiths from time to time. In general, though men are permitted to marry chaste women from among the Christians and Jews, I'm against it. It's not like it was back in the time of Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him. But that's a discussion for another time. I'm talking now about a marriage between a man and a woman, both Muslim, who are from different countries or cultures. And I want to talk to you guys. Arab guys, African guys, Indo-Pak guys.

Okay, first things first. Marriage to, say, an American in the year 2011 is different than marriage back in the olden days. First of all, she doesn't need you. I mean, NEED need, like if she doesn't marry you she'll end up a beggar in the streets or selling her body to get money for food. American women are educated and talented. Even a woman with no more than a high school education can usually find an adequate job and can get a place to live, put food on the table, and manage to rent the occasional $1 movie from Redbox. So consider that. If you end up being a dirtbag and a wife-beater, she doesn't have to stay and put up with you because she'll starve otherwise. She can leave you and go get a job. So you have to bring more to the table than simply being a provider.

That cute American girl that you saw waitressing at the local pancake restaurant is also not a quiet, submissive woman who believes that men should talk and women should say "aiway Bey". Yes, she's Muslim, but she's an AMERICAN Muslim. She brings to her religion a background of independence and outspokenness. She will listen to what you say, but if she disagrees she will let you know it. She expects you to consult her before you buy a car and before you drop $5,000 on some business venture with your cousin. You know that cousin, the one who always has a great idea? Yeah, that cousin. He lives in his mom's basement and eats government cheese.

The American Muslimah will bring the idea that men should participate in household work. Oh, and she'll have the daleel for that, too. Didn't YOU know that Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him, used to do work inside the home when he wasn't busy with affairs of state? You can bet she'll know it. The American Muslimah will expect you to take out the trash and sometimes wash dishes and - gasp! - change a baby's dirty diaper. Why? Because in America, that's what men do. And if you stick stubbornly to a culturally ingrained habit of having little to do with babies exept for the occasional toss in the air, if you think you can sit behind your newspaper or chill on the couch watching al Jazeerah while she does every speck of housework, well, you're going to have one pissed-off little missus.

You're going to have a woman on your hands who will not let you get away with living an unthinking life. She will challenge in many respects. Not by standing there wagging her finger in your face, but with words. American women are really, really good with words. Islamic words, too, because she's read the Qur'an and Sahih al Bukhari and Riyadh as Saliheen and been to Paltalk lectures and has Yusef Estes as a Facebook friend. So if you want to tell her to do something, or you want to do something, or you want to get out of doing something, if you try to put the label of Islam on it you darn well better be able to back it up.

She will want you to talk to her. Really talk to her, like you are friends. See, I don't want to characterize all, um, traditional men this way, but so many of them don't relate to women as their friends. I'm not talking about going to lunch with the cashier at the grocery store. I'm talking about having a good relationship with your wife, talking to her about all the important and unimportant things going on in your life, sharing your fears, hopes, and dreams with her, and giving HER the same attention you give your buddies down at the hookah place. The wife is not just some mysterious creature who irons your shirts, feeds you, gives you marital rights, and births your babies. She is your friend and companion. Think about that for a minute.

Okay, I know I've given you a lot to chew on, and I have to take my kids to swim class in an hour so it's time for me to run, but let me close with this: There's a lot of you single guys out there, and a lot of divorced guys, too. You really want to be married but you don't always think long term. Marrying someone who is not from your culture is a challenge, and if you are weak in your religion you won't be able to substitute religion for the culture you've been carrying around your neck all your life. If you can wake up and learn, then alhamdulillah, you can make an inter-cultural marriage work. But if you are too traditional, too cultural, too set in your ways to learn how to talk and work and play and live with a woman whose outlook on life may be far different from yours, then at least don't screw it up for the American girls who might fall in love with your handsomeness and not realize in time that you're a caveman. Marry someone who has the right expectations of you so you won't have to fight this fight. Because it can be a really nasty fight and no one wins in the end. Word to the wise.

I'm Going to Treat My Kids More Like Someone Else's Kids

2011-07-01T11:28:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I've been looking at myself lately and I don't much like what I see. I've been short-tempered with my children. More than short-tempered. I've yelled at them and been harsh with them. I could blame my cranky attitude on being sleep-deprived or on the fact that I have to tell them to do stuff ten times before they do it, but I can't put my bad behavior off on anyone. I have to own it. It's my fault. It's my sin.

I ask Allah to forgive me for not treating my children with the mercy that I ask Allah to offer me. I ask Allah to forgive my harsh words, a sharp smack on the bottom, the toy thrown angrily into the toy box, the roll of the eyes and the muttered words under my breath. I ask Allah to forgive me and I'm going to ask my kids to forgive me, too.

How did I get to be the angry Mommy? I think when life is full of challenges and you feel helpless, when you're tired and frustrated, the behavior you'd normally inhibit comes out. Not full force - I don't whack on my kids or deprive them of food or lock them in their rooms or anything like that - but it comes out in snarky words or a sharp tone or even in just ignoring them when you know you really need to pay attention. You would never condone abusive behavior, but you can understand why a parent might snap. Sometimes you find yourself on the verge of really losing it, and only the greatest effort of self-restraint stops you. Then the anger drains away and you stand there thinking, How could I ever even imagine hurting my child? And you step back from the precipice and realize that something has to change.

I am making that change. I am going to start with a new attitude. I have to remember every day the miracles Allah blessed me with. Five wonderful, beautiful, adorable, active, curious children. They are a trust from Allah and I have to treat them like the precious gifts they are. Even when they put the toy school bus in the cats' litter box. Even when they spill grape juice on my light brown carpet. Even then. Especially then, because they know that Mommy is capable of showing a lot of anger and I don't want them to fear an explosion from me when they do something I've done a hundred times before. I've broken more dishes than they have; I've spilled coffee on the rug and ruined a shirt while ironing it and burned dinner and more. And no one yelled at me, called me stupid, hit me, or sent me to my room without dessert.

I'm going to start treating my kids more like they are other peoples' kids. Imagine that I have guests over. Guests with small children. One of those kids spills his drink. What would I, the gracious hostess, do? I would say "That's all right dear", smile, and clean it up. Imagine if I stood there and yelled at a friend's child. I'd be major Evil Lady. So why do I do it with my own?

I love my kids. I sometimes get teary-eyed when nursing the baby. I get lost in my six year old's deep brown eyes. I watch in amazement as my five year old masters the computer. I brush my daughter's golden ringlets. I laugh raucously with my oldest son while watching a funny TV show. When I'm at my best, I am Super Involved Mommy, taking one to swim class, teaching another his alphabet, helping another learn to pray. I know I have the potential to raise really amazing kids, if only I don't get in my way. So that's what I'm going to do.

This is important. It's the most important thing I'll do in my life. To raise mentally healthy kids who are strong Muslims. Even the best parents are up against a society that tries to undo all their good work. I have to really work harder, work smarter, and be a better person if I'm going to do this. So that's what I'm going to do. Failure is not an option.

My life is not ideal. I am struggling with some issues that impact my life daily, and not in a good way. I have to learn to get over it and get on with it, and still have the grace to live a good life and to love my children and not punish them for something they can't control. I have seen what bad parenting can do. I do not want to go down that path, not even one inch. I am throwing myself on Allah's Mercy and asking Him to help me find some grace in my life, so that I can carry on and be the kind of person I need to be. So I'm going to take a deep breath, get off the computer, go see what my kids are up to, and apologize to them. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Make du'a for me.

Wanting a sofa is not a sin....

2011-06-27T15:42:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

DISCLAIMER: I have to do this before articles where I write about stuff that ticks me off: I am NOT talking from personal experience here in this following blog post. My husband, mashaAllah, is kind, generous, wants me to buy stuff for myself, take time for myself, relax, enjoy, etc., etc. He is not a miser and I am not talking about or thinking about him when I write what is below. He agrees with what I am writing. Okay, disclaimer over. Carry on....

Okay, I've been thinking about this for a while and I just feel the need to get it off my chest....

A lot of times, if you complain about something, you'll be told "You should be grateful to Allah for what you have! Don't complain!" I find this mindset to be limited, to say the least.

Now, I am the first person to say "alhamdulillah", praise be to Allah. My family is healthy, I have a roof over my head, I have food in the fridge, I have a car that runs, and I have more than one outfit of clothing to wear. Alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah. I recognize that there are people who would fight to eat some of the scraps of food that end up in my trash or compost heap. I get it, I really, really get it. I am thankful to Allah and I know I'm in a better financial situation than a majority of the people on this planet.

Having said that, I want to say this: Saying that something is not right, or something is broken and needs to be fixed, or saying that you wish you had a certain thing, does not imply ingratitude to Allah. Seeking your rights or seeking justice is not ingratitude to Allah. Being poor and refusing to strive to be rich (in a permissible fashion) is not necessarily a worthy thing or a healthy mindset. Just as living for the dunya only is not a virtue, neither is failing to strive for the best in this world.

Imagine that you were the victim of a mugging and the mugger shot you in the arm and stole your money. You go to the police to file a report, and the police officer says "You should be grateful! Don't you know another guy got shot in the head and they stole his money and his jewelry!" And then they tell you to go away. What kind of logic is this? You are grateful that the wound was not more serious, but you still expect the police to investigate, arrest the criminal, and return your property, if possible. Yet often times we ask for simpler things than this and are told that we are not being grateful for what we have. Women especially are put in this position if they are not working outside the home and they have to approach their husbands for their needs.

"Honey, I need money to buy curtains for the living room". "Curtains? Why do you need curtains?" "Well, the bedsheets we have up now look kind of tacky." "Don't you know there are people in (insert third world country name here) who would be grateful to even have bedsheets?" And there you are, left feeling like you are an greedy person obsessed with the trappings of dunya, when in reality you were making a perfectly reasonable request for window coverings that are customary in your society.

This accusation of ingratitude is used as a cudgel to discourage a woman from asking for her rights. American revert women usually get taken the worst, because they are seen as women who can be acquired cheaply without a high mahram (bridal gift) and without the high maintenance required of a bride in many other societies. You want a sofa? The floor is good enough. You want more than one set of bedsheets? Wasteful lazy woman, go wash them. You want a mixer so you don't have to mix the bread dough by hand? Hah! Meanwhile, the man is often styling in the nicest galabiyyah (have to look good in the masjid!) talking on his 4G iPhone (have to be able to download the Adhan!) and visiting the local shisha place a few times a week with his friends (have to network with the brothers!) while his wife sits at home, on the floor, watching local TV because he won't spring for "evil cable TV" (which, ironically, plays constantly at the shisha place - take your pick, soccer or Arabic music videos).

So, let me tell you, my brothers and sisters - because this cudgel can be used against men, too, though not as much. Telling someone that you are not satisfied with the landscaping in your yard is not a sin. If your yard looks like a blasted moonscape and all the other homes on the block are sporting neat lawns, it's a sin not to spend money on it. If you only have chipped thrift-store mugs in which to serve tea, and only four of those so you can't invite more than two people at a time over for a visit, it's not a sin to invest in a decent tea or coffee set. It's not a sin to have enough towels, or a couple of changes of bed linens, or curtains, or a car with air conditioning. If you can't afford it, truly can't afford it, alhamdulillah ala kulli hal and you should be content with what you have. But if you can afford it, if you can budget for it, buy wholesale, buy used, find it on craigslist, somehow take care of that need, then do it.

See, there's a concept in Islam of the 'urf, or custom. For instance, here in the United States it is customary to have a stove and usually a microwave in the kitchen rather than a wood fire in a pit in the yard. It is customary to have a mixer or food processor so you don't have to cut everything by hand. It's customary to eat at a table, sit on a sofa or chair, and sleep on a bed with a mattress. It's customary to have air conditioning in the car in hot climates and it's customary for a woman to have a matching set of dishes. The person who is in charge of setting up and furnishing the home should do so in the customary way that is within his means. If you want to eat on the floor off of a common dish in the sunni fashion, then that's great. But if you're marrying a woman who grew up eating dinner at the dining room table and sitting on a sofa in the living room, you have to take into account her custom and respect that and accommodate her as much as you can. Don't just say haraam alaiki and tell her the floor is good enough. Because if you want to go that far you may as well strip off the carpet, pull up the hardwood floor, and take it down to the dirt. And buy a camel to commute to work on. Because if you're gonna be Sunni, you may as well go all the way.

I'm not saying that you have to go into debt or, Allah forbid, use a credit card or a bank loan to get the best this, the most up to date that, or the fanciest the other. I am saying that you need to recognize that there are certain things which, while not vitally necessary, are really needed in order to make your home match the customary modest standards of the country in which you live. Here in the US, that's furniture, bed linens, pillows, curtains, dishes, a stove, a refrigerator, a shower curtain, and so on. It's not haraam to make your house look like a home, and you can do so while still being frugal and giving sadaqah and being a good Muslim. Be reasonable, be moderate, and be realistic, and inshaAllah you can balance your dunya and your aachira. And Allah knows best

The Blessing of Being Sick

2011-05-29T11:16:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I took sick on Wednesday night. Not a cold sick, not even a feverish flu sick, or a yucky stomach-virus sick. This was a different sick.

About four in the morning I roused to nurse the baby and noticed that when I changed sides and turned my head I felt dizzy. I went back to sleep but by morning the vertigo was in full force. As soon as I stood up, the room started spinning and my stomach clutched with nausea. I was only able to stumble to my son's room to wake him for school. I told him he had to get himself and his brother out the door without my help because I had to lie down. Then I went back to bed and just lay there, trying my best not to move my head at all. It was weird, scary, debilitating.

Now, I'm the kind of person who does not like to let stuff slow her down. I've been in my kitchen cooking and baking bread two days after having a baby. I walked around on a broken foot for three days before going to the doctor. It's not in my nature to let something stop me, or to complain much when I am ill or hurting. Cut myself while peeling onions? Ouch, run it under cold water, slap on a bandage, and finish cooking dinner. So this was new. I was totally unable work through it. The moment I moved, the world started doing flip-flops and my stomach lurched. It was, in a word, misery. I couldn't even get up to tell my husband I couldn't get up. He wandered in after returning from fajr prayer and found me desperately clutching the bed, afraid to move. He knows that if I say I'm sick, I'm SICK, and if I say I can't move, I'm not joking. He took the baby and left me to rest and took over running the household for the day, which is no small task. Customers would have to wait because he had food to dole out, diapers to change, fights to mediate - all that mommy stuff that he wanders around on the periphery of. MashaAllah, alhamdulillah, he jumped in and did what needed to be done.

The dizziness has lasted for two days and finally started abating on Saturday. On Friday night, I called my friend Cathy to ask if she would watch the kids if Sherif had to take me to the hospital. She, with her big heart and great organizational skills, immediately kicked into high gear and was willing to drop everything to help me, alhamdulillah. I made it through the night without making the call to go to the ER - Friday night on a long holiday weekend is NOT the time to need emergency services - but still on Saturday she came that afternoon with a warm hug and enough food to feed a brigade of soldiers for a week. I was as much relieved for Sherif as I was for myself, as he'd been doing all the work the last two days and seriously was in need of a break. By that time I was able to sit up without upchucking and was able to eat a bit, so it seemed the worst had passed, but it was certainly traumatic while I was in the middle of it. Even now, I still feel some dizziness when I move my head too fast and my balance is a bit off and I know I'm not up to snuff. I do plan to go to the doctor during regular hours and try to find out what's behind this scary episode. In our household, my husband and I are always on call since we have our own business, and we don't take days off. Losing two days of work can have a real financial impact on us. InshaAllah it will be a one-time thing and I'll be back to normal soon so hubby can stop worrying and I can once again keep up with the kids. Alhamdulillah, we made it through with Allah's help, and Cathy was a real blessing mashaAllah, and I know, I know, that my friends on Facebook who responded to my request for du'as had a big impact as well. Allah listens to du'as and responds to them and I had a lot of people in my corner. Jazaak Allah Khair to everyone who sent a kind thought my way, and the practical advice was helpful, too.

Well, I don't want to spend too much time in front of the computer, so I'll go now and rest, but inshaAllah I'll be back in a while and have something witty to say. Just don't invite me on any merry-go-rounds for a while. Like ever.

Ode to the Zombie Mommy - Part The First

2011-05-23T10:57:00.000-04:00

The Zombie Mommy
You've seen her
Standing in line at the grocery store
Looking into the far distance as the bag boy repeatedly intones "paper or plastic?"
At the park
Standing behind a child sitting forlornly on a swing,
motionless, as her unfocused eyes see nothing and she is unable to provide momentum for even a modest back-and-forth
She's there
Sitting in the drive-thru at Taco Bell, the lady cashier tapping on her car window
trying to hand out a meal she doesn't remember ordering
She's in the yard, halfway to the mailbox and having forgotten the reason she walked out the door
She's at the bus stop, quiet, confused, forgetting that it's a holiday, not a school day, and the kids are traipsing around the neighborhood in their pajamas and flip flops, hunting bugs
She's in the kitchen, staring at the stove as if to conjure a fully-cooked meal, reaching reflexively for
the fast food menus stored in a drawer, but forgetting where she put her phone.

Who is this sad, befuddled creature? What enchantment enfolds her? What dastardly fiend struck her with such a debilitating spell?

It is not magic that caused her haze; it is Mommyhood.
Mommyhood, that mystical situation brought about by birthing children
Mommyhood, that affects every fiber of her being and changes, well, everything.
Mommyhood, that brings about sleepless nights and chaotic days filled with

Overflowing diapers, teething, growth spurts, fevers, boo-boos, first steps, rifled purses, projectile vomiting, colic, toy fights, food allergies, Sissy took my crackers, tantrums over princess dresses, clogged toilets, pulled cats' tails, dogs eating grass and throwing up - and that was just Monday.

Mommyhood holds her in thrall. It makes her forget her shopping list, her coffee mug on top of the car,
where she put her keys, and one time, that one horrible time that she is too ashamed to admit to anyone,
it made her forget that she had left her kid in the daycare at the Y while she worked out, and she was five miles down the road before she remembered and swung a frantic U-turn in the middle of the intersection to go back and retrieve her.

The funny thing is, she volunteered for this.

She found a really good man, accepted his token of love, a sparkly ring, married him and vowed and ate
the cake and accepted the well-wishes of her friends and family. She agreed that they wanted kids,
and she was overjoyed when she saw the two little lines on the stick, cried when the first fuzzy black
and white image appeared on the monitor at the doctor's office, sweated through labor and bore with pride the pains of birth, gazed with rapt attention and love at the purple, wrinkled, squalling little person who was
placed in her arms. And so it began. The transition from strong, smart, talented woman to Zombie Mommy began.

---- end Part one ---

Don't Touch Me, I'm Trying to Be Spiritual!

2011-05-20T09:18:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I'm following a gentleman on Facebook who is visiting many faiths by "trying on" each one for a month (see Project Conversion) . He has dipped into Bahai, Hinduism, and several other religions, and this month he is learning about Buddhism. In his most recent blog post, he mentioned that his wife was having trouble with one of the aspects of being married to someone who was seeing what it was like to be a monk. Celibacy. He was practicing monkish aceticism for the day and she was a bit put out at not being able to be intimate with him. He described his separation as a way of extinguishing desire so that he could be more able to focus on worship and his search for the divine.

Now, I'm all for taking a step back and evaluating one's life. We Muslims fast in the month of Ramadan (which this man will be experiencing along with us), during which time we abstain from food, drink, and, yes, marital intimacy during the daylight hours. We are encouraged to fast other times during the year, and we are warned against overindulgence in any area of life. Moderation is the key. But giving up permanently the generous gifts that Allah has given us is not a part of our religion. Just as we have an innate need to eat and drink, our sexuality is a part of us that needs to be nurtured and fulfilled, not whipped and beaten into submission.

Narrated by Anas bin Malik: “A group of three men came to the houses of the wives of the Prophet asking how the Prophet worshipped (Allah), and when they were informed about that, they considered their worship insufficient and said, "Where are we from the Prophet as his past and future sins have been forgiven." Then one of them said, "I will offer the prayer throughout the night forever." The other said, "I will fast throughout the year and will not break my fast." The third said, "I will keep away from the women and will not marry forever." Allah's Apostle came to them and said, "Are you the same people who said so-and-so? By Allah, I am more submissive to Allah and more afraid of Him than you; yet I fast and break my fast, I do sleep and I also marry women. So he who does not follow my tradition in religion, is not from me (not one of my followers)." (Sahih Bukhari, Sahih Muslim)

A person who seeks to stamp out his sexual desire is stamping out a part of him that is part and parcel of his very nature. It is a misguided attempt to purify, because there is nothing "base" or dirty about sexuality when it is practiced moderately within the bounds of marriage. Why would God create us with this need and then tell us that we have to get rid of it in order to be truly faithful and close to Him?

We have another bodily function that is distinctly less clean than our sexuality. Every human being urinates and defacates. It is part of our physical nature. So, can a person who truly seeks to find God cleanse himself of the filth of the body and train himself to extinguish the need to relieve himself? It's not possible, and God never would ask it of us. It is a normal human function. Yet even though dealing with our bodily wastes is necessary for the highest priest or the lowest acolyte, no one would be so foolish as to suggest that they have to stop pooping and peeing in order to be spiritual. We accept this as part of our lives and then get on with our lives.

If you are hungry, don't give up food (which is impossible anyway). Go have a sandwich, and then you can return to your worship in a calm manner. If sex is a distraction, don't give up sex, get married and fulfill your desire in a permissible fashion with your spouse. Then go and pray. Enjoy the pure gifts that God gave us in moderation. Don't deprive yourself of something that God gave you. That would be ungrateful, and being ungrateful to God will send you in the opposite direction from the one you want to go in.

Why I Don't Like the Idea of the "Holy Spirit"

2011-05-17T13:45:00.000-04:00

A Christian friend on my FB list posted this quote:

I have a glove here in my hand. The glove cannot do anything by itself, but when my hand is in it, it can do many things. True, it is not the glove, but my hand in the glove that acts. We are gloves. It is the Holy Spirit in us who is the hand, who does the job. We have to make room for the hand so that every finger is filled. ~Corrie ten Boom

I was immediately struck by the thought that I really don't like this quote. Now, of course I'm Muslim, so the Holy Spirit as it is taught by Christianity is a foreign concept. Any reference to the "Ruh", or spirit, is a reference to the angel Jibril, upon whom be peace, and not to some nebulous force that enters us when we decide to become religious.

Okay, here is why I don't like this concept. The Holy Spirit is something that is not part of us that we take on; it is not part of our DNA or our personality or even the souls that were given to us by Allah. So what this phrase is saying is that you cannot be a good believer just as you were created by Allah; you have to take on something from outside yourself in order to be able to be faithful.

This simply does not make sense to me. Why did God create me lacking this fundamental part of me? Why am I not good enough, smart enough, pure enough, to understand what God wants of me without some sort of outside interference? So, my own innate sense, my soul, is not enough to seek God?

See, Islam has this concept, called fitrah. Being born on the fitrah means that Allah created in us, as part of our inherent makeup, the understanding that there is a God and the desire to seek Him. Our fitrah is to believe in One God; it is our parents or society or other outside influences that misguide us away from our innate understanding of this concept, which is called tauheed in Arabic. We don't have to be imbued with some outside operator in order to seek God, or to be able to understand Him in the imperfect yet awe-inspiring manner we are allowed.

Now, I know my Christian friends will have all sorts of arguments in favor of the Holy Spirit, but I prefer my outlook. And considering the dearth of proof for concepts such as the deity of Jesus, peace be upon him, and the very existence of a Trinity, of which the Holy Spirit is supposedly a part, I will keep to my understanding of how God created me - as a human being with all the tools necessary to find Him, if I only open my heart. And Allah knows best.

Flying While Muslim is the New Driving While Black

2011-05-10T09:45:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Well, the title says it all, no? It seems that merely wearing traditional Islamic clothing, or sporting a long beard, or wearing a veil, or simply having swarthy skin is enough to get you bumped from a flight. Just the other day, two Imaams (Muslim clerics), Mohamed Zaghloul and Masudur Rahman, were removed from a flight to Charlotte, North Carolina, after some passengers complained that their mere presence made them feel "uncomfortable".

Now, here's the thing. If Sally Lou Ann is in an office building, and she is at the elevators, and she is about to get on but a couple of men get on before her and that makes her uncomfortable, then Sally Lou Ann has the absolute right to simply not get on the elevator and wait for one that has people who do not scare her. She does not have the right to call building security and insist that those men be taken off so she can enjoy her ride to the fourth floor to meet with her orthodontist. But for some reason, the same does not hold true for the passengers on an airplane.

In my world, if a passenger had expressed discomfort at having to share stale recycled air with a brown man in his pajamas (c'mon, you know that's what they're thinking), the pilot or the flight attendants would simply and politely say "I'm sorry you are not satisfied with the color and composition of the airplane passengers. We will be happy to taxi back to the terminal and allow you to deplane so you can wait for a more racially pure airplane that does not have scary brown people on it. Have a nice day."

Unfortunately, in the real world, this does not happen. The two Imaams, who had passed through security screening twice, and who were, ironically, on their way to a conference on Islamophobia, were chucked off the plane with hardly more thought than a chain smoker might give to tossing a cigarette butt out the window of his car while speeding down the highway. The pilot would have had the power to ignore the passengers and allow the flight to proceed, but he was the one who insisted he would not take off with the Muslims aboard. Education and the ability to pilot a thousand-ton aircraft apparently does not translate into having common sense. So my poor brothers were humiliated and harassed, profiled and persecuted, all because some idiot didn't realize that if there was someone on the plane that intended to do harm, he would most likely be clean-shaven and wearing chinos and a blue button down chambray shirt. (Note to FBI agents reading this: I just made that up. No need to scurry and update your profiles or stake out the local menswear store.)

It appears that Flying While Muslim is the new Driving While Black. Sadly for my brothers and sisters of color, the old Driving While Black, which is still Driving While Black (or Hispanic) is still fully in force, so be aware that if you did really well at your law firm last year and treated yourself to a new Beemer with your bonus you will still get pulled over randomly by troopers who think you are a drug dealer. Sorry we can't help you with that.

The two Imaams have legal counsel now and are considering their options. The airline is zipping its lip and not saying anything after releasing the usual "security is important to us" statement. Muslims around the country are shaking their heads and sighing into their coffee. Normal Americans are thinking "that sucks" while secretly wishing they could travel in their pajamas. Tea party enthusiasts are training legions of volunteers in how to feel uncomfortable in the presence of a brown person. Legislators are seriously hoping they don't have to get involved. The media is returning to covering news of the flooding Mississippi and the split of The Governator and his wife. Life goes on.

About 4 million people will fly on any given day. Some of those flyers will be Muslim, and many of them will undergo special procedures. Screeners will wand, pat, xray, and feel up men, women, and children in the name of security. Some guys with beards and long robes will be looked at with fearful eyes and will be allowed to fly, or not. The friendly skies are getting less friendly every day, and it does not make us one whit safer. Indeed, it has the opposite effect. It makes the warped jihadi overseas smile because he knows that he can use the video of Muslims being targeted and humiliated as a recruiting tool. He can trot out the tape as evidence that the West hates "us" and that he is justified in declaring war against the infidels. It is another, albeit smaller and less traumatic, Abu Ghraib moment. And I don't know what I can do about it.

The last time I flew was seven years ago. That was four kids ago, and I really don't look forward to having to schlep them and all our stuff to the airport even if the goal is a lovely vacation in my husband's native Egypt. I know that if we do decide to travel one day, I may have to stand there and grit my teeth while some eight-dollar-an-hour security person runs her hands up and down my body. I may have to watch some guy do the same to my kids, undoing years of "good touch, bad touch" teaching. I may see my tall, bearded husband ushered off for special attention. I'll try not to cringe, try not to jump out of my skin, I'll refrain from getting in anyone's face and telling them to go straight to hell, because I really need that vacation and I haven't seen the Pyramids in years and I want to eat some fresh dates and cactus fruit. I'll submit, because I don't have a choice. But it pisses me off to no end, and it's made worse by the fact that even if I allow myself to suffer all these indignities I still might not be allowed to get on the plane because someone feels uncomfortable. If that happens, I don't know what I might do. If that happens, the redneck in me might come out and I might have to track down Miss Uncomfortable and get in her face and pop her right in her uncomfortable mouth. Then the air marshals would haul me away and I could enjoy my vacation in a nice little cinderblock room being interviewed by the FBI.

Maybe I'll tell the husband we'll be having a staycation this year, just to be on the safe side.

And Now, For Something Less Controversial....

2011-05-04T12:06:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Well, the fallout from the OBL situation continues. But I have faith in the short attention span of many of My Fellow Americans, so no doubt they'll be on to the Next Big Story soon. Like, what will be the summer's blockbuster movie or who will win on that new show, "The Voice". You know, important stuff, vital to our future.

For everyone who is wondering what went on in the last couple of weeks, let's review: There was a huge outbreak of tornadoes across the South that led to the deaths of about 300 people and caused widespread havoc and destruction. More homes were lost to foreclosure as banks continue to fraudulently close on homes whose owners never missed a payment, or the banks lose paperwork or make it impossible to figure out what's actually going on, and, oh, yeah, they got a few billion dollars from the government a while back so the government SHOULD be monitoring what's going on but they're not.

There is a continuing disaster in Japan as the nuclear reactors spew radiation. I know that hasn't been in the news for a week or two because it's officially "old news" and it won't become relevant again until four-headed fishes start showing up at the market. Oh, and remember that Gulf oil spill from waaaay back last year? You know how they said all the oil just magically disappeared and went into an alternate universe or Donald Trump's hairpiece? Well, now dead oil-saturated baby dolphins are washing up on shore, which most people think is a bad thing but I think we can turn this into good news by making dolphin sushi that also can be used as a laxative cause all the oil will make it go right through you.

They had to blow a hole in a levee in Ohio to flood some farmland in Missouri so the more-populated town of Cairo (pronounced KAY-ro, like the syrup) wouldn't flood so bad. Farmers in Missouri are upset that their fertile farmland will be covered in silt and there are now about one hundred homes there that will flood due to the intentional levee breach. But I'm confused. I thought the silting of farmland would be a good thing, because it would enrich the soil. Isn't that what happened for centuries in Egypt when the Nile would flood every year? I guess that only works in Cairo and not Cairo.

Gas is around $4 a gallon, still less expensive per ounce than perfume, contact lens cleaning solution, eyedrops, or organic milk. They need to have defibrillators at the pumping islands at my local gas stations for when people have heart attacks after filling up the tank. Wait, don't those things send an electric charge? Never mind; that might be a bad idea. Hate to see some poor guy get shocked back to life and then explode. Kinda defeats the purpose.

I could go on, but I supposed I've depressed you all enough for one morning. You get the idea. The death - or not - of OBL is only one item on a much bigger agenda, and it is probably the single thing that affects us least in our daily lives.

Now, in my daily life, I'm dealing with a fussy baby, loads of laundry that don't magically disappear any more than the Gulf oil, kids who need shoes, a muddy front yard that defies all my efforts to grow grass on it, and a lot of other stuff that is pretty important to me but would probably bore you. So I'll get on with it because my coffee is gone so I don't have an excuse any more to sit at the computer. Gotta go eat my eggs and toast and then I think I'll start with trying to get lunch together. Leftovers sound good, really good.

Birthers, Deathers, Truthers, and other Conspiracy Theorists

2011-05-02T11:11:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Okay, I love to write. Most of the time I just spew out whatever is in my mind without using the "edit" function in my brain too much. My blog is mine, so I can write what I like, right? I do refrain from telling too much about my personal life - some things are private and are best not shared with random strangers. So I thought that I would write about the killing of Osama bin Laadin and put my spin on it, as is my habit.

I had to stop and think. Writing about such a polarizing figure can have serious consequences. I'm sure there will be a reaction among some of my Facebook friends and other contacts who read this post. I'll probably see the number of people on my friends list drop. I might get nasty comments or emails. Is it worth it? Well, I guess so. It's my blog, after all, and if I can't write what I want here I'd best just not write at all. So here goes....

Last night, around 10pm, I was up doing not much of anything when CNN announced a special report. President Obama, they informed me, would be making a significant statement from the East Room of the White House in about twenty minutes or so. The commentators intentionally refused to speculate on the nature of the announcement. After five minute or so, they confirmed only that the news was not about Libya or Gadhafi. Delay after delay pushed back the timing of President Obama's announcement to well after eleven o'clock. Finally, a few minutes before he stepped out, Wolf Blitzer was able to tell us in advance that the president's statement would inform us that Osama bin Laadin was dead.

Hmph. Interesting. Okay. I sat there watching the TV and keeping open my FB page and Twitter page and the CNN homepage, toggling back and forth and wondering how I should feel. I'm an American. I'm a Muslim. I'm an American Muslim. I'm a Muslim-American. I'm an American who happens to be Muslim. I'm a Muslim who happens to be American. All of me reacted in quite a calm fashion. I did not high-five my ten-month-old baby, who was crawling around the floor. I did not grab an air horn, head for the front yard with it blaring, and yell "Yeah! In your face!" I did not wrap myself up in an American flag or a Palestinian flag or paint a star and crescent on my cheek. I did not do more than mutter "Inna lillahi wa inna ilahi rajiunn" under my breath. "Indeed, we are from Allah and to Him is the return". It's what Muslims are supposed to say when informed of someone's death. Then I waited for my husband to come back from his class and watched the news unfold.

My husband came through the door after just a few minutes and we started discussing the death. Or, and now here is where it gets tricky, perhaps I should say "death" with air quotes around the word. Because, you know, there are a lot of people out there who don't believe OBL is dead. Or they believe he is dead, but he died ten years ago and his body was just cryogenically frozen until it was convenient to trot out the body in order to facilitate Obama's reelection. Or he never was alive and he was only a robotic construct created by the CIA to justify invasion of Muslim lands. And those are some of the more tame stories. We watched the news coverage and talked and watched and drank tea and watched some more. Eventually we drowsed and decided it was time for bed. Osama was dead; we still had to get up in the morning to get the kids ready for school and take my father-in-law to the doctor.

Both of us were hovering on the edge of sleep - you know that time, that time when you are awake enough to actually appreciate the delicious feeling of impending rest? - when I heard my father-in-law call from his room for Sherif. "Sherif! Sherif!". I heard him call; Sherif was further into his descent into sleep and it was harder on him when I woke him. He rushed downstairs to see what his father needed while I waited anxiously upstairs, hoping it wasn't a medical crisis. We've only had him home from the hospital for about a week. He was much improved the last few days and we had allowed ourselves to relax a bit and start getting used to the new routine.

I heard them talking, and then my husband's panicked call "Ya Nancy!". I ran downstairs and saw my husband cradling his father's head, trying to get him to talk again. Abdallah was in some sort of spasm, with his muscles rigid and his face straining towards the ceiling, he was not able to move or talk and we were afraid he was having yet another stroke. The spasm didn't pass right away so we called for an ambulance, but thankfully, mercifully, by the time they arrived, he was starting to relax and eventually he settled right down. The EMTs talked to him and us, checked him out, and ultimately we decided that since he was back to his "normal" self, we'd monitor him and then take him to his routine appointment in the morning. Alhamdulillah, the rest of the night passed in peace, and we were eventually able to relax enough to snatch a few hours of sleep before the alarm clock roused us all.

Thoughts of Osama went straight out of my head when my father-in-law had this spasm. The look of helpless shock on my husband's face was much more immediate than the news story about a death half a world away, even the death of such a significant person. The relief at seeing Baba wave his hand in his usual fashion and flirt with the lady EMT was much greater than the very mild emotion I felt upon hearing the news of the American raid. This was real life for me; this was what was important in my life.

This morning was completely routine. I turned on the news, got the kids ready for school. Sherif walked his dad out to the car to go to the doctor. I handed him his coffee and a sandwich. The little kids clamored for cartoons but I relegated them to the bedroom TV so I could keep CNN on out in the living room. Cereal was poured; diapers were changed. Now it's about 10 am and I have caught up on my Facebook feed and I honestly don't know what to think of all that I am reading.

I would say 80% of the comments on the news are from my Muslim brothers and sisters who do not believe OBL is dead. They scoff at the idea of a Navy Seal raid; they poo-poo the news that Osama was shot in the head; they guffaw at the notion that he was buried at sea. If they do accept his death, they hold him as a martyr and deny he had anything to do with 9/11. Or he did, but what the US had done in Iraq is worse. Or he was paid by the CIA. Or he never existed at all and he's just a figment of our imagination. People I have previously viewed as reasonable human beings are putting forth the most incredible theories as to what happened. I'm amazed and amused and bemused and befuddled. I have made the decision to not get into a back-and-forth about this on Facebook, that this blog post will be my one big comment on it. I imagine I'll find out who my real friends are and I'll make a few enemies. Not much I can do about that.

So, all that I've written up to this point, those paragraphs up there that you've kindly managed to wallow through, are all prologue to this, my opinion on the whole shebang:

I believe that Osama bin Laadin is a person who has committed great crimes against humanity. I do not admire him; I condemn him for taking the beautiful religion of Islam and twisting it into a caricature of the faith I have lived for more than seventeen years. I don't mourn his death and I don't condemn the Americans who are dancing in the street over his demise. I hate the ignorance that permeates the Muslim world and I will not waste one moment defending his point of view. I refute the radical idea that Muslims can kill innocent men, women, and children in defiance of the Qur'an and Sunnah. I think that we should look to ourselves, not some outside enemy, to see what is wrong with the Muslims. As the quote attributed to the Prophet Jesus, peace be upon him, says "Do not look to the speck in your brother's eye when you have a log in your own".

Oh my God, some of my Muslim friends would say. How can you believe that Muslims can do heinous things like fly airplanes into buildings? How can you believe Muslims actually did that? How can you think people who say la ilaha il Allah, Muhamamdur Rasool Allah, can do something so bad? Well, unfortunately, I have seen with my own eyes that Muslims can do bad things. I see Muslim men who beat their wives. I see Muslims who always go to the Friday prayer running restaurants that sell liquor and promote belly dancers. I see Muslims who deal drugs. I see Muslims who are heroin addicts. I see, every damn day, Muslims cheating other Muslims in business dealings. I see Muslims running "successful" businesses based on ribaa, usury. I see Muslim men sweet-talking nice ladies in order to get green cards. I see Muslims advocating murdering innocent non-combatants and smiling and laughing at the deaths of "infidels". I know it is possible for Muslims to commit great evils because I see their petty little everyday evils in my community routinely. So I do not buy into the conspiracy theories that hold Muslims to be innocent of very bad act attributed to them and I believe instead in the teachings of the Qur'an and Sunnah that warn us that in the runup to the Day of Judgment, we will lose our scholars and our knowledge and we will engage in open immorality and we will be reduced to such a state that one day even the Qur'an will be taken from us. I believe this because I know my religion.

Oh, you faithless woman, you Muslim-basher, you who are in collution with the West! Yeah, yeah, that's me, right? No, not right. I am a MUSLIM. I believe in Islam, I want Sharia'ah law, I pray for my children to be strong Muslims, I recognize the need for fighting against those who are trying to eliminate us. I condemn the invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan. I believe George W. Bush was as bad as or worse than Osama, because he lied and led the US into a false war and the deaths of thousands of Americans and millions of Iraqis and Afghanis are on his head. I believe that Islam is the truth and truth will overcome falsehood. I want my family to be Muslim and it pains me that I am the only Muslim in my family. I believe that Imaam Mahdi will come and Jesus, peace be upon him, will return. I am firmly on the side of Islam and it is my faith that requires me to speak out against evil, whether that evil comes from outside Islam or within it. One bit of evil has been removed from the world and I'm not sorry that it is so. Inna lilahi wa inna ilahi rajiuun. I'm not going to wonder if Osama bin Laadin will be in heaven or hell. It's not for me to say, and I am not sure of my own state, so why on earth would I want to make a pronouncement on the state of someone else's soul?

So there, I've said it. It's out there. Make of it what you will. I will check my Facebook feed, I'll comment when my friend Glenda tells me what the weather is like in Oklahoma, I'll tell Layla how great her crocheted blanket is coming along, I'll try to find that loobya recipe for another friend. I'll read the conspiracy theories and refrain from clicking on links. I may get involved in a conversation here and there if it seems to be calm and well reasoned. I'll ask my husband how his dad's appointment went, I'll give the kids their lunch. I'll see if we can squeeze a few bucks out of the budget to help the victims of the tornadoes in the South. I'll try to memorize another verse of Surah Yasin. The talking heads on CNN will get along fine without my minute to minute attention. The world will continue turning and good people will continue to help each other and bad people will continue to do what they do. Life, as they say, goes on. Tomorrow I might write something "important" or I might post a picture of my cat. Guess you'll just have to wait to find out.

Have a Good Monday - Er, Tuesday

2011-04-26T10:57:00.002-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Okay, I confess. It's almost 10:30 in the morning and I just now realized it's not Monday, it's Tuesday. It's not my fault - all my mental markers are off. The kids had their first day back at school today, not yesterday, after a long spring break. And today my husband didn't go to his usual auction due to a schedule change. So I'm feeling like it's Monday mentally. Well, I don't have any appointments outside the house so I guess it doesn't matter.

Today, inshaAllah, we are going to bring my father-in-law from the hospital. He had another stroke a week and a half ago, and now they say he is more profoundly affected. He can't walk, can't take care of his toileting, can't feed himself, and he has now forgotten that his wife passed away over two years ago. La hawla wa la quwatta ila billah. To look at this fragile, confused man is to see a shell of the man he once was.

Abdallah was the mensch of his generation. He started out broke and worked his way up until he had a lucrative and powerful job in the marketing department of the Austrian Embassy. He was very generous with his money. You always knew you could go to Abdallah for help with a payment, or money for a nice wedding, or to help pay someone's school fees. He gave so much away but never took care of himself. He'd forget to eat or not want to spend a few piasters for a bowl of lentils or a fuul sandwich while he was out of the house. He didn't spend any money on dental care, and lost all his teeth. He did this while buying expensive rugs, dishwashers, washing machines, and other things for his three adult children. He spent lavishly on others but was content with little for himself And now? And now....

When we see an elderly person in this condition, sometimes we think to ourselves "Ya Allah, please don't reduce me to this! I'd rather go out in a train wreck than return to the status of an infant, looking to others for all my needs". We don't have any control over what is going to happen to us, whether we will be hale and hearty into old age, or doddering and of foggy mind. We may be at the mercy of others, and human beings can be far, far less merciful than Allah.

We're bringing Abdallah home today, and we'll do our best to keep him clean, fed, and comfortable. My husband is already exhaused from the hospital back-and-forth, and now he's trying to figure out how we are going to juggle work, five kids, keeping the household running, and taking care of his dad. He's got a huge burden on his shoulders, but he understands all about love, mercy, and duty, and he does not shy away from it. He welcomes the opportunity to earn the blessing from Allah for taking care of his dad, as he took care of his mom over the years during a long chronic illness that finally took her life. He tells Allah thank you for the chance to earn reward, but he's also praying that he can have a little relief and that the daily toll is not too heavy for him. I'll be backstopping him and doing what I can to help, but the lion's share of the work is his.

So, what's in our future? Allah knows. The hospital staff thinks we are either saints or crazy, trying to take care of an elderly invalid. We don't have any insurance so we don't qualify for most services - Abdallah's immigration has been stuck in "pending" status for two years. We don't have a large extended family to help carry the load, so it will be mostly him and me and some helpful brothers pressganged into service after asr prayer inshaAllah to help us with the transportation. Some of the nurses even suggested we just leave him at the hospital, claiming poverty and an inability to care for him, and just leave them to find some nook or cranny to jam him into. That was not an option. We are not saints, I think we are not crazy. We are just doing what needs to be done, no fanfare, no wringing of hands or remonstrating to the heavens "Why me?". We are taking care of a family member who is in need. Isn't that what people do?
When Abdallah is home, I'm praying he won't be so quiet and depressed like he has been much of the week in the hospital. InshaAllah, having the kids coming and going, the cats jumping up on the table to say hi, being able to listen to Qur'an and lectures from the computer, all the normalcy will help perk him up a bit. I know he's confused, sad, mad, helpless. It's our job to comfort him and do the best we can. After all, those kids, my kids, his grandkids, are watching. They're getting a lesson in Islam right now. They are learning that you don't just discard parents when they are old and inconvenient; you do the right thing, even if it's hard and it makes you tired and it means you don't get to go play as much as you want. All the talk in the world won't teach this lesson, but seeing us taking care of their grandfather with love and compassion and kind words will. InshaAllah, if my husband and I live to be doddering old people, our kids will remember and will do what is necessary to take care of us with love and kindness. Even if I were childless I'd still do the right thing by my father-in-law, but knowing I have kids who inshaAllah will be there for me is a comforting thought.

There's Someone for Everyone - Or Not

2011-04-23T10:36:00.002-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I'm an old married lady. Forty-four, five kids, married almost twelve years. I've been Muslim for seventeen years, and through the years I've seen most mistakes that men and women make on the way to finding a spouse. I've made a lot of those mistakes, too.

I'm a Facebook addict with about two thousand friends, and I have noticed a trend lately. Many of the women are opining about the impossibility of finding a good husband, or complaining about the one they have, or dealing with living without the one they just lost. This is not an occasional issue; I see it hour after our, status update after status update, from a wide variety of women. A young niqaabi in Philly, a fortysomething revert in Michigan, a British woman with a new baby in London. I see little soundbites from their lives, messages of sadness, depression, despair, in 425 characters or less. It breaks my heart, but what can I do? I'm comfortable in a marriage to a scatterbrained bear of a man with a heart of gold who will fight monsters to save his family but can't manage to keep his gasoline receipts so I can do the monthly paperwork. I can sit here on my oh-so-married soapbox and counsel women, tell them what to do and what they should have done, but that would be a complete fraud. Many of these women did exactly the right thing. They read their Qur'an, read all the good books about marriage in Islam, went to the lectures, scoured the internet to find articles about how to be a better wife. They post verses from the Qur'an and favorite hadiths. They appear to be normal, good women who simply ended up in crappy marriages or were abandoned by their husbands.

For all of you women who are alone now, I wish I could offer you solace and tell you that there will be someone for you. But I can't. Honestly, there might not be someone for you. Oh, yeah, there are tons of guys out there, but a lot of them simply aren't good husband material and you'd do well to run the other direction if one turns his attention towards you. And, yes, many of the good ones are taken. That leaves a relatively small pool of brothers who are looking to get married, and they naturally will gravitate towards the young, cute, never-married, don't-have-kids women in their community. Plus there's the culture thing. A Pakistani might occasionally break away from family pressures and marry someone who is not his cousin, but woe betide him if he marries, say, a Black American, even if she's a scholar in her own right and exudes intelligence and imaan.

It's a numbers game. More and more people are reverting to Islam, and the majority of those are women. So there are more women looking at fewer men who share not only their religion, but their cultural background. Having someone who has lived in the same milieu as you have is important; one reason there are so many challenges in marriages today is the cultural disconnect between, say, an American woman and her Arab / African / Indo-Pak husband.

I'm put in mind of an authentic hadith that tells us exactly what is to come:

361.Narrated Anas (Allah be pleased with him): I will narrate to you a Hadith

and none other than I will tell you about after it. I heard Allah's Apostle

(peace be upon him) saying:

Religious knowledge will decrease (by the death of religious learned me(Religious) ignorance will prevail.

There will be prevalence of open illegal sexual intercourse.

Women will increase in number and men will decrease in number so much that

fifty women will be looked after by one man.

(Sahih Al-Bukhari Vol 1).

How can I offer hope to my sisters in the face of this knowledge? We haven't actually reached this point yet, but we're on our way there and the situation will continue to deteriorate. What are we to do, knowing this? What are we to do from an Islamic point of view? What is my unmarried, or divorced, or widowed sister to do?

I could get all pop-psychology on you, or I could go the other way and quote verse from the Qur'an and tell you to be comforted and to look for your reward in Jannah. I know it's so easy to cut and paste a verse and then get on with my life, which includes someone to warm the bed beside me at night and help me with the kids and occasionally wash dishes. I don't want to patronize you and I don't want to demoralize you, but neither will I lie to you. No, my sister, there may not be someone out there for you. I'm sorry, and I wish it were not so, but that's the way it is.

So, what can you do now? Do you give up the search, take down your profile on the Muslim marriage site, change your status to "I give up"? I don't advise that. Even though there's not someone for everyone, the situation is not hopeless. There are some good brothers out there, men willing to look for a wife based on her imaan and not the size of her, um, attributes. There are men who don't need a virgin, can handle a woman with kids, who are not afraid of a woman with an education, and who would be happy with a wife who is more mature (read: over 25). They are out there, and you don't know when Allah will put you two together, so don't give up.

Don't give up, but don't sit there waiting for your prince to come and sweep you off your feet, either. I mean, c'mon. You're a dynamic, smart, driven, faithful Muslim woman. You don't NEED a man to feel validated and you are not less of a person without a husband. So, while you are in your husbandless state, take advantage of your independence and freedom and work on living your life to its fullest. Go back to school, learn a language, take some free online classes, teach yourself how to sew, become the best damn receptionist at your office and make yourself indispensable, start a business, join the Peace Corps, learn how to skydive, take up extreme whittling - do something you love and take care of yourself for a change. Yes, you do deserve it, and no, you're not being selfish and putting yourself first at the expense of your kids or some image you have of what a Muslim woman is supposed to be. You did not have a lobotomy before you put on that hijaab, and you did not sign a contract saying your only job as a Muslim woman was to be a submissive wife. You are not an appendage to a man, so stop acting like it and go grab the bull by the horns and all those other dynamic metaphors.

But I have three kids and I am on government assistance, or I live with my mom or I take care of my sick grandma or I have a special needs child or I have a bunch of other excuses. I know, I know. You can't just grab a backpack and tour across Europe; you have responsibilities. But even in the midst of those, you can chip away at your lifetime "to do" list. You won't be able to do everything you want to do, but you can do something. You are not stuck in a rut with no way out. Sometimes you have to be very aggressive to get what you want, and you have to be able to get by on little sleep and a lot of caffeine, but if you want something badly enough, you can do it.

Look at me. I'm a stay-at-home mom with five kids and an entrepreneur husband, and a father-in-law who is in fragile health living with us. As a matter of fact, he's in the hospital now after having suffered another stroke and we're all worried about how we can take care of his needs now that he's less able to take care of himself. I am physically worn out after having had four babies in a row and as many miscarriages; I am mentally worn out by the economy having taken a toll on our already frugal lifestyles. I am plagued my melancholy, which is a fancy way of saying I suffer depression and anxiety. I am no model of perfection and I have days where I would rather pull the covers up over my head and let the world get on without me. But even with all that pulling at me, I do what I am passionate about: I write. I write, I try to reach out to others, I advise people privately when they ask me how to take care of a problem. I am working towards my goal of having a website for Islamic advice. I am starting to learn Farsi. I am re-teaching myself how to crochet. I am sharing recipes on my other blog. I am writing letters to the editor right and left to try to get published. I'm about to embark on a letter-writing campaign to local churches so I can speak to them about Islam. I am trying to keep the carpets clean and I'm scrubbing the walls with a sponge to get the kids' crayon marks off. I am LIVING and I am not waiting for someone to give me permission to do what I love. I am blessed with a supportive husband, but I guarantee you if he were not supportive, I'd be doing what I want anyway because I did not stop being me when I became a wife. I don't have money to get a haircut and I haven't had my nails done, well, ever, but I save my pennies and take advantage of free stuff and make do with what I have and don't use that as an excuse to fail. If I, with all my fragility and foibles, can do it, so can you.

So, how can I wrap up this too-long blog post? Well, let me just say to my unmarried sisters. Yes, it sucks that your husband decided he didn't want to be married anymore. Yes, it sucks that you're forty-five and the only marriage proposals you get are from guys who want a green card. Yes, it sucks that you were really thinking that that guy was going to make a good husband until you realized he had five other sisters on speed dial. It sucks to not have a good husband to keep you warm and help carry the load. I will make du'a for each and every one of you to be blessed with a pious spouse who will help you complete half your deen. But until that happens, or if, by Allah's will, it is not to be in this world, I want you all to get up off the sofa, put away the quart of Ben & Jerry's Pity Me Pistachio Ice Cream, get out of your ugly sweats, and figure out what you want to do with your life. Get busy, and inshaAllah you'll be so satisfied being YOU that you will be able to get through the lack of US. I love you for the sake of Allah and I know you are stronger than you think you are.

The French Niqaab Ban

2011-04-12T10:34:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Hmm, what do I think about the ban of the niqaab in France. Tempest in a teapot, that's what it is. It is Sarkozy and other politicians pandering to a xenophobic base of citizens in order to score points towards reelection. It is a distraction from the miserable economy. It is a reflection of what is going on here in the U.S. with the mosque controversies and various states trying to make Islamic law illegal. It is ignorance on a countrywide level. And I'm not surprised in the least.

I think the main difference between what is going on here in the U.S. and what is happening in Europe is based on tribalism. Tribalism? In the 21st century? Indeed. Let's just strip away all the nice talk about citizenship and equality and state the truth that no one seems to want to admit: If you are living in France, and you are not of French blood, you will never be French even if your birth certificate and passport say you are. If you are living in Germany, and you are of Turkish or Greek extraction, you will never be German even if you are fourth-generation. You are always going to be an outsider. You are always going to be an interloper. The "real" French and Germans, most of them, probably would be happier if you would just go on your merry way. You know, back to your home country. Back to Turkey or Algeria or Tunisia or whatever. You are not welcome there. Tolerated, yes. Allowed to do the menial work, wash the dishes, or drive the cabs, or gather the trash. It's okay if some of you succeed and integrate, as long as it's not too many. Enough so that the ruling caste can hold you up as a model of European equality, but not so many that their kids and grandkids are going to start being more, you know, brown. There are limits, after all....

Is it different here in the U.S.? I think so. Because we pretty much wiped out most of the indigenous population (sorry guys, didn't know those blankets had smallpox), that means that at some point almost all of us in this country are immigrants. The WASPs may have gotten here ahead of the Arabs and Pakistanis and Chinese and all the other melanin-enhanced people, but they are not from here either. It's harder, therefore, for them to claim that their culture is more suited to the United States or that the Judeo-Christian ethic has a stronger foothold here than the Islamic one. They still do say that, mind you, but the argument is much weaker.

So, bearing all that in mind, are you really surprised that the native citizens of European countries are becoming unsettled at having all the foreigners in their midst? Not just the color of their skin, but their different religious beliefs and cultural habits. They see themselves as the norm and everything else as the exception. Add to that the fact that many Muslims nowadays are ignorant of their own faith and bring backwards cultural practices with them, and you can almost understand why they are hostile towards Muslims and Islamic practices. The ban on the niqaab is only the most visible symbol of their unease. I mean, imagine if you are living in Saudi Arabia and an American wanted to walk down the street in a g-string. It would violate your religion and your culture, and you would feel perfectly comfortable seeing a police officer asking that person to cover up.

But that's different, you say. Islam is the truth and it's our faith and we have a right to practice our faith. Well, maybe in a Muslim country you do, but France is decidedly secular, with of course more rights given to the Christian faith because they don't like Islam. That is the reality.

So, what does a niqaab-wearing Muslim woman in France do? As of yesterday, she either takes off the veil, stays home, or risks arrest and a fine. Or she can do what Muslims are told to do by Allah when they are not able to worship Allah openly. She can leave. She can leave France and go to a country that will allow her to wear the veil. Remember, when we cannot practice our deen, it becomes fard, required, for us to leave that country if we have the means to do so. The problem with this is, the oppression in the country she left was often greater than it is in France, so she would possibly be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. And not everyone has the means to leave. If you arrived in France as a refugee with nothing but the clothes on your back, you may be stuck where you are. In that case, you just have to do the best you can do, and ask Allah to make a way for you. In the meantime, sure, you can go out and demonstrate and try to work within the existing political structure to have the ban struck down, but don't think for one moment that the majority of French citizens will support you. After all dear, you're not actually French, now are you?

Burn the Qur'an or Burn an Opium Field?

2011-04-02T12:16:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

On March 20, 2011, an ignorant little worm of a man burned a Qur'an. He's not the first and will probably not be the last. He claims to be a man of God but by his actions he showed his only leader is the devil, and whatever mad voices only he can hear that tell him what he is doing is good. But I'm not here to talk about him. He's had more than his fifteen minutes of fame. I'm here to talk about other people. People who are just as ignorant. People who have no sense, who must have no brains because on the day God handed out brains they thought He said trains and they took the bus instead. Those people.

I'm talking to you, righteously indignant mob man. You, the one with the long sunni beard and the precious Qur'an clasped tightly in your upthrust hand. You with your face scrunched up in a rictus of hate. You who, with those of your ilk, stampeded like a mindless herd of cows and then flung yourselves like lemmings into the abyss of murder and mutilation. Am I mixing metaphors? Probably. I'm so mad I can hardly take the mixed-up mash of furious thoughts in my head and put them to paper with any semblance of order. I want to take each and every one of you and grab you by the shoulders until you either wake up or break in two.

What the hell were you thinking? Murdering U.N. workers, who I daresay did not burn any Qur'ans and had no intention to do so. Did shooting them make you feel better? Did stomping on them and dragging their bodies out into the street make you feel like a real jihaadi? Did cutting off their heads make you feel proud? You showed them, didn't you. You showed them, those infidels who would dare damage your precious Qur'an. You know, that book that says that if you kill one innocent person, it's as if you killed the whole world? That book that enjoins us to have mercy on those who haven't been given the message of Islam, the book that tells us to teach them, to be upstanding role models and only argue with them in the most modest and correct manner? That book? Oh, yeah, I forgot. Most of you, being Afghanis who speak Farsi or Pashtun or another language of your region, don't actually KNOW what is in the Qur'an because, while you have the ability to memorize it, apparently you don't actually take the time to understand what it actually says.

You are so outraged by the burning of the Qur'an by one stupid little worm of a man. Uh, excuse me, have you looked around your own country lately? Your country supplies the majority of opium in the world, opium that is used to make heroin, which is a scourge on humanity and has caused more deaths than you can count. I've seen the ravages of this drug and it's not pretty. I've seen families destroyed by your main cash crop. Why don't you take care of that little issue before you worry about what is going on beyond your borders.

You are so outraged by the burning of the Qur'an by one stupid little worm of a man. But look to yourselves and see if the way you treat your women is an accurate reflection of the teachings of Islam. Women are not to be married off against their will, as if they are an asset used to settle a debt. Women are not to be left without medical care; women are not to be hit; women are not to be abused and treated worse than your riding animal. Why don't you take care of that little issue before you worry about what is going on beyond your borders.

You accuse the U.S. of being interventionist and you tell her to mind her own business, and to that I will readily agree. We have our own problems here that I could spend days enumerating. That's not the issue. Your are the issue. You have murdered people who are considered innocent. Islam does not allow for such vigilante justice. Islam does not allow ignorant mobs to rampage and murder people. You have once again besmirched the beautiful religion that I chose over seventeen years ago. You are the face of Islam that Ma and Pa America will see on their TVs tonight. Congratulations, you're famous.

To all the other Afghanis, those who truly believe in Allah and His Messenger, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him, those who are striving to eradicate the opium and better the status of men and women in that sad blasted country, you are my brothers and sisters and I love you all for the sake of Allah and I wish you much success. I pray to Allah that the invaders will leave your country, that good people, civilians from whatever country who come with clean hearts and sincere intentions, do not suffer at the hands of the animals in your midst as they try to bring education, clean water, midwifery, alternative crops, and other bits of hope to you. I am not indicting all Afghanis; you are my brother and sister Muslims. But for the ignorant ones, the ones who scream and shout and attack and hit and abuse and murder and grow crops of death, I'm done with you. I ask Allah to undo your work and deprive you of any good in this world in the next. I'm sick of you and I'm tired of defending Islam because of what people like you do. I wash my hands of you.

The War at Home

2011-03-30T10:06:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Weary and bleary-eyed from lack of sleep (thanks to a teething baby who likes to wake up at night and serenade me), I went through my usual morning routine. I turn on CNN. One of the first stories was about an Alabama hospital where patients had been infected by contaminated IV bags. Imagine you go in for some surgery, and it is successful, only to succumb to a bacteria in your glucose. At least nine patients have died and others are critically ill. This comes on the heels of an earlier story about a much wider contamination of antiseptic wipes that are widely used in hospitals around the country. Seems the largest manufacturer of these wipes has a bit of a sanitation problem. So Grandpa goes in to have his hand stitched where he gashed it opening a tin can and ends up with a raging infection. Then, just to hammer the point home, Johnson & Johnson has recalled yet another batch of their medicine due to a funky smell. Are you beginning to see a pattern here?

Let's step outside the field of medicine. Let's talk about, oh, I don't know, infrastructure. You know, the stuff that makes the country run. Lights, water, sewer, phone lines - we do still have those, you know. First of all, we're way behind the Koreans in bringing high speed internet to every home. I don't have a huge problem with that because we're way bigger than Korea so the logistics are completely different. But I do have a problem with the fact that our electricity infrastructure is old and on the way to obsolescence. Bridges are failing, roads are pitted and marred, we haven't built a refinery in twenty years, we treat clean renewable energy like some dumb quaint idea our five year old came up with. I could go on and on. As a matter of fact, I think I will....

We have a prison system that is mostly run for profit nowadays. The incarceration business is there to make money; they would rather have your uncle Bob back to stay again and again because they get money for his upkeep, rather than trying to help him, oh, you know, rehabilitate himself and become a productive member of society. If he has a drug problem, too bad. They're gutting programs and cutting funds for drug treatment. And if he gets out, there's probably not a job for him.

If he gets sick while he's in prison, well, cool, he has health care. Might not be great, but it's free and it's quite possibly better than what his non-felonious counterparts in the outside world can get for free. Despite the recent watered-down health care "reform" that was recently past and now is constantly fought over, most of the poor in this country are still terrified of getting sick because they can't afford it. A drug available to women that could help prevent miscarriage was about $10 a shot a few weeks ago; now it is over $1500. No, that's not a typo. So poor women have fewer options for treatment, and if they do get Medicaid, that Medicaid program might go bankrupt trying to offer them the ongoing treatment necessary to save their babies. You know, babies?

Education. Hmm, what can I say about education? Broken schools, demoralized teachers, disinterested parents, crumbling buildings, drug gangs, cheating on standardized tests.

Immigration. Pfft.

Drugs. Our southern border is porous, allowing the mayhem from Mexico to spill over. Our busy ports bring in cocaine and heroin and other poisons in containers that are too numerous to inspect. We have a thriving domestic methamphetamine culture with lots and lots of people willing to risk blowing themselves to kingdom come in order to cook up a batch.

I could go on and on but the kids want their breakfast and the baby is teething so I have to stop. The sad thing is that I could go on. Pages and pages, talking about the environment, Wall Street banks, home foreclosures - you get the idea.

What I want to know, given that we have about a gajillion serious issues here at home to deal with, is why we are involved in three wars overseas. We certainly don't have the moral high ground to lead the rest of the world. We don't have the financial power to bribe it into submission. Why are we letting our country fall into complete disrepair and dysfunction while we spend billions of dollars overseas? Why? Tell me. Tell the poor women who have miscarriages. Tell the unemployed. Tell the homeless. Tell the people. Because we want to know.

Some Days are More Productive than Others

2011-03-29T14:06:00.000-04:00

Today has been a pretty productive day, alhamdulillah. Cleaned the bathroom, scrubbed the dining room floor, and spent all my "spare time" (time when I'm not holding the baby) creating a new blog for my auction stuff and updating and joining online auction websites. So, that brings me up to three blogs now. I think I'm going to have writer's cramp, but I'll get over it. The new blog hopefully will help me get noticed on all the auction sites so I can make $$$. We've been selling on eBay for years but they have gone through some chaotic and just plain weird changes, so we're exploring other options, as the saying goes. They are not the only game in town, but they are the biggest right now, but hopefully with our eclectic mix of items - vacuums and exercise machines, pasta makers and bread makers - we can find an outlet in other places.

May Allah bless us all with halaal rizq, Ameen. Hubby is coming home from the auction so time to run cook lunch :).

Is This Your Dhikr?

2011-03-20T09:57:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

We all know the benefits of making dhikr, remembrance of Allah. It is the habit of many Muslims to say "alhamdulillah" (praise be to Allah), subhanAllah (glory be to Allah), and other phrases that come to us from the Qur'an and authentic Sunnah. Making dhikr is a way of remembering Allah, thanking Him, asking forgiveness from Him, glorifying Him, and showing that we are submissive to His will. It can be a beautiful spiritual practice. But for some, it has devolved into a soulless, mindless repetition of arcane words.

As with any act of worship in Islam, there are two parts. We must have the proper niyyah, intention, and we must do the action in the correct way according to the Qur'an and Sunnah. Even the informal dhikr has rules. Shouldn't do it in the bathroom, or while eating lunch, or while you're supposed to be doing something else - like listening to the Jumuah khutbah. We should also be mindful of what dhikr is. It is a type of communicating with Allah, so it's very important that when we do it, we give it our full attention.

Remember how your mom would always tell you not to mumble? "I can't understand what you're saying. Speak up and enunciate." If we want to truly benefit from the words we are saying, we should pronounce them so they are understood. How many times have you done this, or heard someone near you doing this:

"Alhamdulillah...alhamdulillah...alhamdulillah...hamdulillah....hamdulillah...hamdulillah....hamdullah...hamdullah...hamdullah...hamda...hamda...hamda..."

By the time you get to the last in your string of words, what comes out of your mouth has very little resemblance to the word "alhamdulillah". You end up sounding like this guy:

So, let me advise you as I advise myself. I'm a rushed and harried person, but I always strive to be aware during my dhikr, to speak slowly and enunciate. Even when you take the time to pronounce every syllable, it doesn't take long to do. And if you do it with an awareness of the One you are addressing, He will certainly reward you for your sincerity and concentration. And Allah knows best.

Don't Let a Sexual Predator Have a Picture of Your Child

2011-03-17T10:04:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, it was announced that law enforcement in several countries had broken up a child pornography ring that circled the globe. They arrested nearly two hundred men and saved over two hundred children from sexual slavery. This bust was the result of a three-year investigation and is a major coup for the good guys, but these arrests are, sadly, only a drop in the bucket. Millions of predators are still out there, and they want your child, too.

I lived in Kansas City for about ten years, so another news story caught my eye. A man there was arrested for child molestation. He had drugged little girls, ages six to thirteen or so, with doctored ice cream and soda. Then he molested them. This monster kept a "how to" manual describing how he attracted and attacked these girls. He's in jail now, but his bretheren in depravity are still out there. And they want your child, too.

I am blessed with a lovely family. I, as any parent, love to brag on them and share their milestones. My oldest won a spelling bee; my middle two are doing great on their reading; my daughter is a lovely Daddy's girl; the baby is the apple of everyone's eye. I would do anything to protect them. I suspect that if you are a mother or a father, you understand exactly how I feel. So I am going to give you a quick tip on one way that you can help protect your children. Because they want your child, too.

DO NOT PUT YOUR CHILDREN'S PICTURES ONLINE.

Yes, yes, I know, it's great to show how cute your daughter looks in her princess costume. You love to share the picture of baby's first tooth. And who can resist that adorable shot of your son on the big-boy slide at the playground? You can't resist it. Know who else can't resist it? The pedophile who spends hours and hours each day, trolling the internet looking for a beautiful child, girl or boy, to look at. To become attached to. To obsess over.

Oh, you're being paranoid, you say. Well, yes, yes I am. But you know that saying: Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean that someone isn't really out to get me. These animals are not casual purveyors of porn. They make it their life's work to acquire images of children that are available online. In addition to visiting the hard-core secret chat rooms and websites, they look for images readily available on Facebook and other public sites. They are out there, and they want your child, too.

I only send pictures of my children to my direct relatives, and usually only as an email attachment. They know my rules and they don't share around the pictures or post them elsewhere online. For the rest of the world, even though I know 99.9% of you are wonderful and I love to share my simple life with you, you have to be content with words, not pictures. I just am not willing to take the risk. It's a small risk, but it's an easy thing to do, or in this case, to refrain from doing. Please, I ask you as a mother, remove any pictures of your children that you have online. Once you put them out there, you can never get them back. And some pervert living in his mom's basement in Toledo might be a friend of a friend that you don't know about on Facebook, and those pictures of the family reunion where your child looked so cute in his cowboy shirt might find their way onto his hard drive, and he'll sit and look and think lustful thoughts about your precious child. It's a small risk, but the consequences are so so horrible. Because they are out there, and they want your child, too.

After a Cranky Day, A Nice End - Thank You Wal-Mart Guy

2011-03-15T20:41:00.000-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Today was one of those cranky days. I woke up after an up-and-down night with a fussy baby. A stuffy nose makes him wakeful. Actually, he doesn't need an excuse. He's just cranky by nature right now. Probably a growth spurt. I fumbled through the morning routine, getting kids off to school and hubby off the work, grumbling a bit to myself that I never get to take a morning off. Grumble, grumble. My husband was preoccupied with family issues, and that meant he was cranky. We just kind of salaamed each other and went our separate ways. I knew he wasn't mad at me, but each of us seeing the other kind of down was like a positive negative reinforcement. A bummer day squared.

So, we muddled through, more frowns than smiles, cranky wakeful baby for me, busy day going ten different directions for him. Then my kids came home from school, and my oldest, usually a ray of sunshine, was similarly in a, shall we say, noncommunicative state. His mood did not improve when I handed him the baby so I could go on a vital shopping trip. Even promises of a bag of chips did not mollify him.

Cranky in the car, cranky in the parking lot, cranky through the aisles. I was thinking grouchily that I had to rush home and then immediately cook something for the family that would be more hungry by the time I arrived. Grumble, grumble....

Eventually I made it to the checkstand. I had checked out with this young man before, Daniel. He was a normal-looking guy with straight long brown hair caught in a loose ponytail. He smiled, made small talk. He asked me about my hijab. "Excuse me, and I apologize, please don't take offense, but doesn't that get hot?". I gave my usual answer; I grew up in Oklahoma so I'm used to hot, and I've been wearing my hijab for so long I don't even think about it. We continued to chat and he talked about his own spirituality, and I shared a bit with him. I left the store with a smile and in a much better mood, energized enough to hit the door with a bit of energy so I could bring in the groceries, whip up a quick simple dinner - grilled cheese and Ramen noodles - and wash dishes and direct the kids in their toy cleanup. I made a concoction of tea, sage, black seed, ginger, and honey for the sore throats. I'm going to dose up my hubby with medicine before he goes to bed, and I'm going to try to do a little work, either knitting or crochet, before I go to bed.

The day ended better than it started, so I'd just like to give a shoutout and thank Daniel for being courteous and kind. May Allah give him hedayah, Ameen.

A Quiet Disaster, With Deaths Unremarked

2011-03-15T11:45:00.001-04:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

The devastating earthquake and tsunami in Japan reminds us once again that our lives can change or end in an instant. This is a harsh reminder hard on the heels of disasters in New Zealand, Chile, and Haiti. Just in case you weren't listening the last few times, I suppose. In one way the Japan earthquake is different; there's a lot more film of the actual disaster, especially the tsunami that killed so many as it swept ashore with horrible efficiency. Seeing boats and buildings tossed about like toys and entire towns wiped out should make us pause and reflect, should break through the layer of inured apathy that affects so many of us. But does it? Does seeing all the death and destruction really make us stop and remake our own lives? I'm pretty skeptical of that. Unless you're over there, the disaster is, well, over there. Once we turn off the TV and turn back to our daily lives, we, with our infinite capacity to forget, put aside the harrowing images and start to wonder what we're going to have for dinner. It's human nature.

While we calculate the deaths in Japan, I would like to call your attention to this quote I found at the globalissues.org website:

According to UNICEF, 22,000 children die each day due to poverty. And they “die quietly in some of the poorest villages on earth, far removed from the scrutiny and the conscience of the world. Being meek and weak in life makes these dying multitudes even more invisible in death.”

Now, it's probably safe to say that the vast majority of us have not given a thought to these 22,000 dead children unless CNN or another network happened to be airing a special on poverty in Africa or elsewhere in the world. But these children don't stop dying simply due to our inattention. They die, a mass casualty event that happens one child at a time, one or a few or several in a refugee camp or in a small village or out in the jungle or in the high desert. If they all just happened to be gathered in one place and died in one event, no doubt the world would gasp and send news crews racing to the scene. Instead, the deaths are unheralded except by the close family members, the dying moments caught not by a video camera, but by the tear-filled eyes of a desperate mother. Another few have died in the time it took you to read this paragraph.

So, what do you do? What do I do, here in my large disordered suburban split-level home with heat, air, running water, and indoor plumbing? What can I do to help, to shed my protective layer of distance, physical and emotional, from these disasters? Well, as an overstressed sleep-deprived time-disadvantaged mother of five, hopping on a plane to Africa or Asia is not in my plans for a couple of decades. I live here in America, so it is here in America that I can try to help (though we do also send money home to my husband's family in Egypt). It's that old "think globally, act locally" thing.

In my personal life, I have chosen a charity that we regularly donate to. It is in my region so I can feel a sense of local closeness and emotional closeness to the cause. InshaAllah if I am able to get some help with the kids this summer (please make du'a for us for this to happen), I intend to volunteer either a food bank, soup kitchen, or women's shelter. I want to be face to face with the people I help, not because I want to see their gratitude, for truly I don't want or expect any reward from anyone, but I want to do this because only by being in the thick of it can someone experience some of what that other person is going through, and it is this real connection that breaks down our reserve and opens us up to the possibility of real change in our lives.

Look at Sean Penn. This actor has resources you and I cannot imagine. It would be very easy for him to sit in a mansion in Los Angeles, get on the phone, call a few hundred of his closest friends, or what passes for a friend in Hollywood, and raise money for relief efforts in Haiti. But this man who has no need to leave his highbrow world has been spending half the year in the fetid slums and camps of Haiti, in the muck, on the ground, living with the people and watching them heal or die. He is connected through his heart and his work; his involvement is much more than a six-figure check written out for the Red Cross.

So, what can you do? You can do a lot. If you are a stay-at-home mom who doesn't get out much, maybe you can mentor a child and stay in touch via e-mail. You can send money overseas to family. You can sponsor an orphan. Think about ways to get free time to go out. Swap child care with other moms in your area so you can have some free time to volunteer. Yes, you also need free time to decompress, take yourself out to lunch, and relax, but even if only once a month you can get out to do some work at a shelter or community center, you will make a real and up-close difference in someone's life. You'll learn a lot and serve as a great role model for others in your family. You may not be able to pull an elderly lady from the muck and mud of her ruined town in Sendai, but you can save a life closer to home. And you know what the Qur'an says:

Because of that We ordained for the Children of Israel that if anyone killed a person not in retaliation of murder, or (and) to spread mischief in the land - it would be as if he killed all mankind, and if anyone saved a life, it would be as if he saved the life of all mankind. And indeed, there came to them Our Messengers with clear proofs, evidences, and signs, even then after that many of them continued to exceed the limits (e.g. by doing oppression unjustly and exceeding beyond the limits set by Allah by committing the major sins) in the land!. (5:32)

So, are you ready to save the world?

^Sourc

Introducing My New Food-Centered Blog (Link inside blog post)

2011-03-11T19:52:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Hello to everyone! I would humbly like to promote my new blog, which I started yesterday over at Wordpress. I decided that I would dedicate a blog only to my love of cooking, sharing recipes and techniques. Otherwise it tends to get lost in among the other stuff I post. Not everyone wants to go from politics to pita bread and back on a weekly basis. Here is the link to my blog:

Radical Islamic Cuisine

I want my blog to be informational and fun, a place where an novice cook can learn to make a really nice dinner, and where a more seasoned kitchen pro can find a few tips or different ways of doing things. I hope to incorporate videos once I've saved up for a camcorder, but inshaAllah until then you'll find the pictures to be sufficient. Please share this blog with anyone who loves food.

This is NOT going to be an Arabic food / Middle Eastern food blog. It is going to be a blog of the world, because true Islamic cuisine is Arab and Indian, Mexican and Indonesian, Somali and Canadian. Just as Islam has reached every corner of the world, the food of the world has enriched Islam. I will ask for recipes from my friends and empty out my cupboard, and I promise to clean the stove before I take a picture of something cooking on it - well, most of the time.

Come on over and check me out, and feel free to comment and share.

Thank You Representative King for Promoting Islam. No, Seriously....

2011-03-10T20:04:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I didn't watch the congressional hearings today on the radicalization of American Muslims. Being an American Muslim, I already know what the problems are and how they should be addressed. Chairman of the House Homeland Security Committee Peter King, channeling the late Senator Joseph McCarthy, was challenged on many fronts as he tried to keep the scope of the hearings narrow. He was not interested in hearing about radical militias who secretly plot to kill America's first black president. He was not interested in hearing about drug lords and the long reach of their terroristic gangs that kill many thousands of people every year. He was only interested in talking about Moozlums. You know, those sneaky Moozlums with their scary beards and suspicious headcoverings and the way-too-many mosques they pray to their moon god in. Rep. King wants to paint all of Islam with a broad brush, condemning its fundamental practices while trying to mollify protesting Muslims by saying he doesn't mean them, just the radical ones. You know, the ones who dress that way and pray and don't drink alcohol or eat pork. Only the practicing Muslims are the dangerous ones.

I have been heartened by the reaction of the American Muslim community and by the many, many wonderful non-Muslims who have protested against this latest witch hunt. (For previous witch hunts, google "Japanese internment" or "McCarthy and Communists".) I feel blessed to have such good people around me and I know that we will come through this one way or another. And in my tradition of Islam, I say "Alhamdulillah ala kulli hal - Praise is due to Allah in all things". In Islam, we believe that everything happens does so only by the will of Allah and with His permission, and things that we see as bad or evil can actually be good for us. So even though I had an ache in my chest this afternoon reading some of the tweets about the hearings, even though I am concerned about raising my children as Muslims in a society that is increasingly polarized, I say, alhamdulillah for the hearings, and thank you to Mr. King. Thank you for bringing Islam to the forefront of the nation's consciousness, because now those people who have brains will see the hatred and bigotry and many of them will think to themselves, "Hmm, that doesn't sound right, I think I have to do some poking around to see what the truth about Islam is". And those people are going to google around the internet (or Bing around, or Yahoo) and some of them are going to find excellent websites with lots of helpful and accurate information. Others are going to get up the courage to talk to a friend, neighbor, or colleague about Islam. Some will even have the guts to walk into an actual mosque and ask the Imaam some questions. I welcome them, and all my Muslim brothers and sisters will welcome them with open arms.

To all my non-Muslim friends and family, welcome. Please ask me about Islam. Ask me anything you've heard, even if you think it sounds stupid or provocative. Trust me, I've probably heard it before. I promise to give you the best answer I can, and if I don't know, I'll try to find out for you. I chose Islam over seventeen years ago, studied the Qur'an, taught myself enough Arabic so that no one could lie to me about what I was reading, read the commentaries and books of the traditions of Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him. I'll be happy to share anything I've learned with you.

Okay, now that we got that out of the way, can our elected please, please give all this crap a rest and go back to doing your jobs? You know, ending the wars, helping people get back to work, prosecuting bank fraud and Wall Street fraud, trying to balance the budget without killing health care and education. You know, the stuff we elected you for? I know the hearings are dramatic and all that, but except for the media, bloggers like me, and people who sell bottled water outside the hearing rooms, you're not putting one damn person to work while you're in the yammering for C-SPAN.

Don't Abuse Women - A Test From the Last Sermon of the Prophet (saw)

2011-03-08T09:21:00.005-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim - In the Name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullaahi wa Barakaatuhu - Peace be upon you, and the Mercy of Allah and His Blessings

I was not aware that today is International Women's Day. I usually don't follow such news as I think reducing the concerns of women, or any group, to a single day is not really useful. We should strive to do good and recognize goodness every day of the year.

I came up with this simple test due to news of some horrific abuse suffered by a Muslim woman. I just became aware of this situation recently. Unfortunately, it is not an isolated incident. I cannot comprehend how a man can call himself a Muslim, can say he fears Allah and the Last Day, yet he abuses the one who should be closest to his heart. A man can have a long beard, pray five times a day, make the night prayer, come to the first row on Friday, walk around with dhikr beads constantly in his hands, use a traditional miswak, say mashaAllah, alhamdulillah, and subhanAllah with every breath, and yet be so corrupt in his heart that every act of his is lost and will not benefit him on the Day of Judgment.

If you want to know who is the best brother in your community, see who is best to his wife. See who is proud of his wife, who says "Sorry, brothers, I can't stay here and smoke and chat and drink tea, I need to get home to my family". See who enables his wife to fulfill her needs, who encourages his wife to study, to learn, to engage with the community, to have free time to herself. This is a real man, a real Muslim. He is the one who is truly following the Sunnah of Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him.

Now, to the test. It is one question, multiple choice:

In the Farewell Sermon of Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him, in what order did he mention the following topics?:

A: The importance of the five daily prayers

B: Giving up riba (interest / usury)

C: Treating women kindly

It might be "logical" to say that prayer came first, since it is one of the things that separates the believers from the non-believers, but you would be wrong. The first topic is on avoiding riba, usury, since it is such a corrupting and injurious influence at every level of society.

What is the second topic? Surely the prayer would fall here if not first, but no. The next topic that Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him, mentioned was women:

O People, it is true that you have certain rights with regard to your women, but they also have rights over you. Remember that you have taken them as your wives only under Allah's trust and with His permission. If they abide by your right then to them belongs the right to be fed and clothed in kindness. Do treat your women well and be kind to them for they are your partners and committed helpers. And it is your right that they do not make friends with any one of whom you do not approve, as well as never to be unchaste.

Why would women be mentioned even before prayer? You know and I know that everything that came out of the mouth of the Prophet in regards to religion was wahy, revelation. It came from Allah, not his own nafs. Allah inspired him to mention the women before the prayer. Why? I am not a scholar so I don't know the "educated" answer, but perhaps it was because it was so important, and the rights of women are among the first to be ignored or discarded, that Allah felt it was necessary to give their rights pride of place in this last sermon, this speech that is memorized by thousands or perhaps millions of Muslims around the world.

Brothers, my dear brothers in Islam, I implore you, I beg you, as a woman who has seen the worst a man can do to a woman, as a woman who has seen other women broken in spirit and downtrodden, made to believe she is worse than a dog, you must do a better job of cherishing your women. If you are a father, you must practice Islam in your home and teach your sons and daughters their rights and duties as Muslims. You must raise your boys to respect women and you must raise your daughters to demand that respect. You must treat your wife well. You must honor your parents. You must never, ever strike a woman. If you do this, then you are not just being nice or being magnanimous. You are following the sunnah of the Prophet. And trust me, it's much more important to follow him in this than it is to walk around with a miswak in your pocket and think you are a good man.

If you are a father, or a brother, or an uncle, or a concerned member of the community, you must not turn away from a woman in distress. When it comes to your attention that a woman is abused, you must take action or Allah will hold you accountable on the Day of Judgment.

If you are a husband and you are abusive, I have a message for you: Every time you say an unkind word, call your wife "bint al kalb" (daughter of a dog), tell her she is useless, steal her gold, don't allow her to get a driver's license, tell her she disgusts you, hit her, punch her, throw her against the wall, rape her, you are building yourself a home in the Hellfire. Allah will hold you responsible for the life you are abusing. He will ask you on the Day of Judgment, when you are up to your eyeballs in sweat, naked, shaking and quaking with fear, why you did not follow the simple rules that were RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE. Are you afraid? You should be.

I will tell you, O abusive husband, that YOU are responsible. You are not that little boy anymore who hid in the closet when your father was beating your mother. You are not that little boy who was taught that women are all filth to be used and discarded. You have a brain and you have the duty to overcome the falsehoods you were taught in the past and become the man you are supposed to be, a Muslim man who cherishes women and takes care of them in kindness. Just as a heroin addict can kick his addiction and stay away from drugs, you can kick your addiction to violence and stay away from abusing your wife in any form. Your afterlife depends on this. You must resolve to never, ever again touch a woman in anger. You must surround yourself with strong Muslim brothers who are doing it right. You must open the Qur'an and learn what Allah teaches about women. You must fall down in prostration and beg forgiveness from your Rabb for committing such a heinous sin against a woman who is your wife and your sister in Islam. You must do it now. Do it now before Allah takes your soul and you have an eternal life in the Hellfire to regret your actions. Do it now to try to remove that look of fear in your wife's eyes when she gazes at you. Do it now and work it every day and never give up. Do it now.

A Dose of "Awwwwww!"

2011-03-07T13:59:00.001-05:00

The Blessings of a Small Bathroom

2011-02-23T09:24:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Every morning, our family of three adults and five children has a pretty much set routine. If my husband went to pray fajr in the masjid, he's out super early. Then I'm up next, then I rouse the children when it is time for school. Part of my job as majordomo is to make sure everyone gets a chance to use the bathroom without waiting a long time. I mean, c'mon, three boys with full bladders? Sometimes, if one stays in bed a few minutes longer, or another wakes up early, my well-planned flowchart (so to speak) is messed up and I have kids hopping up and down in the hallway banging on the door and yelling "Hurry UP!" Not the way I want to start my morning. We have a second bathroom that is available in a pinch, but let's just say it is in serious need of a plumber's attention so I try to avoid using it if at all possible. My father-in-law has his own bathroom downstairs, so overall we're okay. As long as the routine doesn't get scrambled.

The bathroom is functional. That's about all you can say about it. Dated tile, dated vanity, a few cracks now appearing in the slippery white ceramic on the floor. Sometimes - okay, often - you have to lift the lid and mess with the thingy (insert unknown plumbing term here) to get the toilet to flush. It is also small; I can touch the walls front to back by extending my arms. So, am I complaining about this plain, small, heading towards worn-out bathroom? Not at all. On the contrary, I consider it a blessing.

Anyone who has had to use a port-a-potty at the fair or some sporting event knows how, um, disgusting it is to not have a modern bathroom facility. Worn though my bathroom may be, it has running water and is sanitary and not scary. (Does anyone else have nightmares about some monster living in the bottom of a port-a-potty? Anyone? No? Okay, it's just me, I guess.) It does its job and other than the jiggle-the-handle issue, it works. So I am not complaining.

I watch home remodeling shows on TV all the time, and I'm amazed at couples who look at a home and reject it because the bathroom is not big enough. I think to myself, who in the world would want a bathroom the size of the Taj Mahal? Think of all the cleaning you'll have to do. Unless that bathroom comes with a matron to clean it and hand out towels and little soaps shaped like butterflies, I'll pass. This morning I had to scrub the floor in the bathroom and it took me about three minutes. Three minutes. That's on my hands and knees with a pail of Pine-Sol and a scrubby sponge. If I had a palatial bathroom like I see on TV, I'd be in there all day, scrubbing and polishing and crying and sobbing.... No, I'll pass on the big bathroom, thank you. I'm quite content with what I have.

I did not wake up this morning and think I would hold forth on the affection I have for my bathroom. I meant to scan the headlines of the newsites and read my FB, see what's up, and compose something worldy and topical. But, honestly, I think it's okay. Maybe reading about something as pedestrian as a bathroom will help someone remember to be thankful for the things we take for granted. Hmmm. And perhaps tomorrow I'll write about my sink.....

Gossip Between Husband and Wife

2011-02-18T13:23:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I was scrolling through my FB status updates and came across a posting regarding gossip. It reminded me that I've been meaning to mention something for a long time. Now is as good a time as any:

For my dear brothers and sisters who are married, gossip is gossip even if it is between husband and wife. It is gossip if you are talking about others in your family, it is gossip of you are talking about people at the masjid, it is gossip if you are talking about people at work.

So many people have a blind spot in regards to their spouses. Due to the normal intimacy of the marital relationship, we have a tendency to want to share everything. This results in us talking about things that we shouldn't. This is damaging to everyone because once something is said it can't be unsaid.

Let's use a fictional example. Said comes home from the masjid, and says salaam to his wife Ameenah. He is bursting with news. Is he going to give her some naseehah and tell her what the khutbah was about? Why, no, that's not news. He wants to hurry up and tell her what he heard from Yusef, who heard from Ahmed, who works for Abdallah, that this guy he knows casually from the masjid, whose name is Ali, went and got secretly married when he took a vacation to his home country. And the wife is jealous, and she is beautiful, and she wants to come to the US, and she wants him to divorce his first wife, and.... and.... and. You get the idea. Said shares all the news, all the juicy details, and forever changes his wife's impression of Ali, whom she's never even met but already dislikes. They chew over the issue, with Ameenah clucking in disapproval and Said saying "I know" as if he does know but of course he doesn't because he's getting this "news" fourth hand. "Oh, and by the way, the Imaam talked about surat al Kahf today", he says in passing before going to the den for a nap.

So, what has happened here? Said has shared information that he does not even know is true, and even if it is, it's none of his business. He's compromised the privacy of a brother and affected how his wife views him. Now, imagine it's a couple of months later and Ameenah is in the masjid for a potluck dinner. She's introduced to a lady who she realizes is the (possibly first) wife of the aforementioned Ali. Now, instead of one sister greeting another with a pure heart, she has mental reservations because of the information she has.

It's even worse when we talk about family members, because we are more apt to come into contact with them. I know it's tempting to talk about things with your husband or wife, but honestly, think before you speak. You might cause your husband to hate your sister, or your wife to dislike your mother, all because you talked about some private matter that was better left unsaid. Think before you speak. It's tempting to think we can share everything with our spouse but that's not the case. Sometimes we should just keep our yaps shut and not say anything. Yes, it's hard. But it's also Islamic:

Abu Hurayrah, may Allah be pleased with him, narrated that the Messenger of Allah said:

“A sign of one’s excellence in his Islam, is ignoring what does not concern him.” (Ahmad, Malik & At-Tirmithi)

Ignoring what does not concern you

Sunnifornication

2011-02-16T10:17:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

This is a "mature" topic so don't let the middle schoolers read over your shoulder. Or perhaps you should, because this is a cautionary tale.

The status of marriage in this world is troubled, to say the least. Here in the U.S., fifty percent of all first marriages end in divorce. Muslims here are running as fast as they can to strengthen this statistic, sad to say. There are so many things wrong I don't know where to begin, but I guess I'll start with a conversation my husband and I had the other day.

We live in a suburb of a large metropolitan area. There are thousands and thousands of Muslims in the area who hail from just about every corner of the world. We have lots of masaajid and many people who consider themselves Imaams and teachers of Islam. Yet we also have a problem with rampant serial marriage in our area. It is just barely on the halaal side of marriage, leaning dangerously towards clear prostitution. Muta'a for Sunnis, as it were.

Here's what I'm talking about. Let's say Bob and Sally (both Muslim, but I won't use "typical" Muslim names to avoid making anyone think I'm talking about a particular person) are married. The marriage does not work out because Bob is a man who likes to beat women, and Sally does her best but can't get him to stop. Now they are divorced due to no fault of hers. She is a lovely girl, but now she has a "used" stamp on her forehead and this limits her prospects, which are already limited because the Pakistanis only want a Desi girl and the Palestinians only want a girl from their country, etc., etc. So the Imaam of her masjid, thinking for some reason that if he doesn't immediately marry her off she'll disappear in a puff of smoke or something, hastily arranges a marriage with a different brother. Sally has been taught that marriage is sunnah so she should hasten to remarry rather than - gasp! - be on her own in the big bad world.

Well, what the Imaam failed to learn about this brother is that he smokes and drinks and likes to buy lottery tickets. He didn't look any further into his acceptability as a husband beyond the fact that he prays in the masjid a lot and comes to Friday prayer all the time. Oh, and he doesn't really have a steady job, so Sally decides to do babysitting to make some money. Oh, and she's still "legally" married to abusive husband number one, so this second marriage is done Islamically but not registered.

So, life goes on. Over time, Sally realizes that the drunken lout on the sofa is going to stay there for the next few years. She tries and tries to be a good wife, coming to him when he desires her, working, feeding him, and then raising the two kids they have. He is under the thrall of his first love, alcohol, and he never manages to overcome it, sinking further and further into a dissipated life. Eventually, Sally gets up the courage to give him an ultimatum - shape up or ship out. Next day, he's off the sofa, out at his girlfriend's house, and she's abandoned again. Being a strong woman who has no more tears to cry, she picks herself up and dedicates herself to raising her children as best she can.

Years pass, and Sally heals from her difficult past and thinks about marriage again. Unfortunately, she's now saddled with lots of baggage - two failed marriages, kids, and not being a cute young virgin. The proposals she gets are unsatisfactory. Be a secret second, or third, or fourth wife. Marry but work full time and stay in your house. Marry but send the kids to live with their dad. Now, Sally has needs and she fears coming close to fornication, so she picks the best of a bad lot and marries Brother Fly By Night, who stops in for a bit of intimacy when his schedule allows but pretty much otherwise leaves her alone. The contact temporarily satisfies her physical needs but leaves her empty inside; she walls off her emotions and considers that this is the best she can get. He tires of her after a few months, divorces her, and is off to look for the next Mrs. Fly By Night. She carries on, single until her loneliness and desire threaten to overwhelm her, then she starts the whole sad sorry process over again.

A pattern is being established. It becomes known in the community that there is a woman who can be married very easily, and you can "try her out" and if she doesn't suit you, no harm no foul. Just divorce. This world slips off the tongue as if it were of no importance, rather than one of the hardest, harshest words in Islam. After a few years, Sally has a string of ex-husbands (all pillars of the community) and is still just as alone as she ever was.

Now, you might think this Sally is a bad woman, a woman who is selling herself, but I tell you the fault does not lie with her. It lies with the entire community. It lies back in her home country where she grew up believing women were second-class citizens and commodities. It lies with her family that married her off to an abusive man and didn't protect her. It lies with the Imaams and other leaders of the community who think a bad marriage is better than no marriage at all. It lies with the men who chase skirts and try to put a stamp of Islam on it by having a nikah with little intention of making it a lifelong commitment. It lies with good Muslim women who have really good Muslim husbands, but they are so jealous that they won't allow their husbands to take a second wife to relieve a divorcee or widow from hardship. It lies with all of us who allow this cycle to continue. By not fearing Allah and following the true Sunnah of Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him, we are sliding down the slippery slope to open prostitution as we force women to offer their bodies for a small price.

What can we do? Huh, where do I start. In this day and age, this is but one small example of our return to jahiliyyah and our lack of Islam. I don't have a simple answer because it is not a simple situation. But I can pray to Allah to help my sisters and I can wish for them what I wish for myself. We can make damn sure that when a brother presents himself for marriage, the Imaam or another strong brother in the community gives him the third degree, talks to him, does a police background check, drug test, sexually transmitted disease test, whatever is necessary to show that he is sincere and to protect a woman who most times does not have a wali. We can make sure the woman is also sincere - this is a game that can be played by both sides and some women are only out to get as much as they can from a brother before dialing 911 to have him imprisoned or deported. We have to, have to do a better job or we're going to have fractured communities where women are passed around more than a biker chick at a Hell's Angels convention. Astaghfirullah!

Think about it. Think about what is going on in your communities, wherever you are. Stop closing your eyes to abuse and alcoholism and fornication and all the other ills that are going on in society. Speak out on the minbar and in the lectures and at tea with the ladies. Do something because otherwise we are on a sure path to destruction, one devastated family at a time. I ask Allah to give me the strength to help my sisters in Islam, and the brothers too, and to be a good role model and an active participant in my world so I can change someone's life in a positive way. I ask all my brothers and sisters to relieve a burden from someone, be there to listen, help when you can, advise, show compassion, imagine it's your brother or sister or son or daughter, and don't just wrap yourself up in your own life and say "every man for himself". Yes, the Ummah is in a bad way and yes, it seems like we're approaching that time when we need to just take our sheep and run away to a field far away, but the time is not yet. There are still people we can help. May Allah help us.

Bye Bye Mubarak - Now What?

2011-02-10T11:58:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I was poring over invoices with the baby tugging at my leg when I flipped over to Facebook to see what nuggets of wisdom my friends had posted. Immediately I saw a flood of status updates, links, and pictures saying that Mubarak was stepping down. Either he was going to, was thinking about it, was being urged to do it by the army, or was already out of the country. Peoples' posts were hopeful but they were also adopting a wait and see attitude. One friend included a screen shot of the news on MSNBC saying that he was definitely stepping down. I commandeered the living room TV from my daughter and put her cartoons on in the other room - even the elimination of a brutal dictator can't be allowed to interrupt Max and Ruby. CNN shows a "strong likelihood" that Mubarak will leave and they are giving wall to wall coverage with shots of Tahrir Square.

I do hope it's true. I hope that this dictator goes the way of others before him, away from the country he has raped for almost thirty years. I know that Allah will judge him with truth, will hold him responsible not only for torture that took place in his prisons, but also for the cries of hungry children that he failed to take care of during his despotic reign. Let's say goodbye and turn the page, and look now to the future.

Obviously, this is only step one, because Mubarak's cronies will still be in charge, evil men like his recently-appointed vice president, Omar Suleiman. Surely the regime cannot believe that protesters will find this man a suitable replacement. I'm sure there will be continued protests, more blood in the streets, and the outcome is still in doubt. Allah only knows what will happen.

Thinking about the fate of an entire country is overwhelming, so I'll dial down a little bit. I want to talk about the fate of every Muslim in Egypt, and Muslims outside of Egypt as well. Let me talk to you, the "normal" Muslim. You may be a man or a woman, a college student or a graduate with or without a job, married or not, with kids, without kids. You may have stitches in your forehead because someone tolchoked you over the head with a nightstick; you my smell kinda bad because you've been living in Tahrir Square for two weeks without benefit of a good shower. You're tired and hungry, yet determined and amazed at your own power and courage. You are one of the ones who makes wudu' or tayyamum and prays, sometimes with Christians guarding you, and you've done the same for them. Bravo, I say. You have gotten a really bad man to step aside. What do you do now?

It may be tempting to jump on the democracy bandwagon and march joyously with those who do not pray, with those who think freedom is the end and not the beginning, those who only want to use their freedom to abandon their duty to Allah. I know you all, Muslim, Christian, "progressive" disbeliever, have all been through a major change and have forged strong bonds as you fought for a common goal, but this does not change the fact that in Islam, there is no such thing as democracy and to call for a government that does not rule according to Islam is clear kufr, a form of disbelief that can take you out of the fold of Islam.

Now, hold on there, you say. We've been fighting to get rid of a brutal regime that has kidnapped our young men, tortured them, that helped Gaza become an open air concentration camp, that has aligned itself with Zionists, that has stolen money from its people and fattened itself while citizens starved. How can you tell me I don't want democracy? Listen, democracy is better than the oppression you've been under, and I'm one of the biggest cheerleaders of those who are fighting against oppression, but don't throw the baby out with the bath water and give up your Islam by being overly invested in the whole democracy thing. Balance is everything.

In your heart, you must want Sharia'ah, Islamic law. In reality, you and I know that it isn't going to come about overnight, so free elections without fear are a step in the right direction for Muslims who want to be free to worship, free to nudge the government in the right direction, and free to share Islam with others. Democracy is a necessary evil in this world that shuns Allah. So I can understand if you say you want democracy, because the alternative was oppression. But in your heart, you must recognize the limitations of democracy and never stray from belief that it is only a temporary solution until Allah grants us relief with Imaam Mahdi and allows Isa, alaihi salaam, to return. Until then, each of you has to work to put your heart in the right condition, submit to Allah, pray, fast, give zakah, be a good role model to your non-Muslim neighbors, and always strive to help your fellow human beings by standing up for what is right, like you are doing now.

DON'T be distracted if "freedom" allows you to commit fornication openly. DON'T be distracted if "freedom" brings you every pornographic picture to be shared around on iPhones and Blackberrys. DON'T be distracted if "freedom" means you can score hashish easier, or open up an interest-bearing checking account and get a credit card easier, or wear tight clothes or shave your beard or discard your hijab. DON'T LET FREEDOM TAKE YOU TO KUFR. That's all I ask. Use your freedom to work to improve the lot of your fellow human beings, to teach Islam, to try to save as many as possible, starting with yourself, from the Hellfire. If you do that, then no matter who is in charge in Egypt, you will will be the victor on the Day of Judgment. I promise that I will be over here in my non-Muslim country trying to do the same, working within a government that I don't approve of to improve the lot of my fellow human beings, Muslim and non-Muslim, and to share Islam with all who will accept it from me.

May Allah keep us all on the Sirat al Mustaqim and help us to have the freedom and ability to worship Him in all our daily deeds, Ameen. May Allah bring true freedom, the freedom from the Hellfire, to all people of good conscience so their deeds can remain intact on the Day of Judgment, Ameen. May Allah help us to remember those who lost their lives fighting for justice, and to not let them die in vain, Ameen. Anything I said wrong is from my nafs and anything right I said is from Allah. I love my Egyptian brothers and sisters for the sake of Allah, and I love all my brothers and sisters in the Ummah. We have so much work to do, in Egypt, in Gaza, in Sudan, in China, in Yemen, in Pakistan, in Afghanistan. Let's get to it.

Egypt, Democracy, Islam, Revolt

2011-02-07T17:19:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

A religious Muslim, when presented with world events, runs everything through the Muslim filter. This filter often, mostly, okay, pretty much always runs counter to the popular notion of what is good, or is in accord with it somewhat but not completely. This is the case as well with the situation in Egypt.

I've been sick and busy recently, but I'm also reluctant to comment on the uprising in Egypt, even though most who know me know I'm not exactly shy when it comes to discussing current events. So much has been happening so fast and it takes time to look at the situation in all its complicated parts, to tease apart the threads of revolt, Islam, democracy, Christianity, torture, secularism, politics, all the buzzwords and undercurrents. But as a Muslim, I have to do this in order to sort out the right from the wrong and to consider for myself whether this revolution is blessed or cursed.

For myself, I come down on the side of those who say it IS permissible to rally in the streets, to seek the ouster of Hosni Mubarak, and to struggle against the status quo in Egypt, even though this struggle is not per se a religious issue. There are a lot of questions. Are we allowed to fight against our leaders? Are we allowed to cooperate with Christian Copts and with those who have no religion at all, with those who, if they were in power, would have contempt for Islam and seek to marginalize it even more than it already is in Egypt? I look at it this way. People in Egypt are fighting for their very survival. Sometimes, in order to survive, you have to band together with people that you don't have a lot in in common with.

Imagine that you are a religious Muslim in Egypt. One day, you get snatched from the street by the secret police and tossed into prison, where you are repeatedly tortured. The police have made no secret of the fact that they want information from you, and once they get what they want, your life is over. It turns out that your cellmate is an activist who happens to be an atheist, and he was tossed in prison for speaking out against oppression and corruption. You two decide to band together to try to escape. You have nothing in common on a religious level; you are a religious Muslim and he does not believe in God. Yet you find that only by cooperating can you escape your cell and have a chance at survival. So, what do you do? Do you sit and make du'a and pray for Allah to bring about your release, or wait patiently for your martyrdom, or do you plot with your cellmate, grab the guard when he brings dinner, toss him in the cell, grab his keys, and escape? Me, I'd firmly be on the side of escape, even though technically you are going against the ruler who is the de facto head of the secret police who kidnapped you in the first place.

I see the situation in Egypt being analogous to this, writ large. Complicating the issue further is whether or not Mubarak can be considered a Muslim ruler at all, since he rules his country not according to the Sharia'ah but rather by a mishmash of Western law and some Islamic personal law. Those who would consider him a disbeliever due to the fact that he does not rule according to Islam sidestep the whole "rebelling against the Muslim ruler" completely, and perhaps they are more correct in that belief. I will refrain from calling anyone, even Mubarak, a kaafir, because I'm not a scholar to give such a fatwa and I dislike to use the word at all. Allah knows best, and I have my opinion, but I'll keep it to myself because I think it is not essential to the argument.

So here we are. We have Muslims and "secularists" standing alongside Christians. We have Christians protecting Muslims during Friday prayer and Muslims protecting Christians during Sunday Mass. I watch all this and I feel my heart swell with pride that these human beings have come together to be human, to fight against injustice. I won't open their hearts and see if they are doing it in order to be able to worship without fear, or to have the freedom to live in a democracy so they can fornicate and use interest and make sure everyone can have porn channels on their satellite dishes. I know there are those whose goals are only for the dunya, only so they can be "free" to sin in this world, and that they have no awareness of how short this life is and what awaits them in the next. That is between each person and Allah. I will allow myself to be amazed at them all standing together for a common goal; I will allow myself to laugh at the heartfelt funny sign held by a young man telling Mubarak to leave so he can get married; I will allow myself to cry at the sight of a protester cupping the face of a terrified soldier in his hands while he tries to comfort him; I will allow myself to believe that less oppression is better than more oppression and even though the people of Egypt are mixed and their reasons are mixed and their goals are mixed, their struggle is a worthy one: the desire to live without fear, to be able to marry and work a halfway decent job, to not have to worry about appearing "too" religious, to not have to bribe everyone from the totally useless guy who "helped" find a parking spot, to the satellite company to the business licensing department to every other Tom Dick and Harry in the huge bureaucracy that damn near paralyzes the country. If the country is more free and less corrupt, that is a good thing for Muslims and Islam. Those who want to use their freedom for evil, well, they're probably doing that even now under oppression so what can you do?

A rising tide lifts all boats, so let's pray that the tide of revolution comes flooding in to wash out the evil of Mubarak's regime and allows Islam to become even stronger in the country and in the world, so that when the time is right and Allah allows us a Khalifah again, more Muslims will be ready for it. And a true Khalifah will be a good thing for the entire world. Yeah, I know you non-Muslims don't agree with that, but that doesn't mean we can't work together.

And Allah knows best.

Egypt, The Flu, Tax Season, and All That

2011-02-07T10:14:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I know I have been uncharacteristically silent the last couple of weeks. It's not like it's been a quiet time in the world. There's revolution in Tunisia and Egypt, the usual players are yapping on cable TV and life is swirling around me with its normal color and chaos.

I got knocked down by the flu, first of all. Mommies don't get to take sick days, but I did take a couple of "sick mornings", where I let the kids get themselves ready for school with Daddy's help. So their socks didn't match and they wore the wrong coats; they got there, they learned, they made it back. I stayed in bed not nearly long enough but eventually recovered - the fact that four of my five kids got sick as well, and then my husband, just made it that much more of a challenge. Alhamdulillah, except for coughing the accumulated junk out of my lungs, I'm doing fine.

On the heels of this, it's tax time. I enjoy dealing with my finances about as much as I would enjoy getting poked in the eye with an acid-covered stick, and doing it while sick, well, that's just a whole nother level of joy. Thankfully, I had done the major organizing and counting already so I didn't have to do it all from the beginning. Now I just have to make files for this year so I can keep track of everything month-by-month instead of making a mad scramble at the end of the year. Yeah, we'll see how that works out.

And then there's Egypt. Ah, Egypt. My connection is that my husband is originally from there. I've been there a couple of times. I have friends there. Most of my husband's family is still there. Of course I've been obsessively following the news and watching my status updates and scouring the interwebs for any information. I've watched the protests with horror, joy, amazement, sadness, and a sense of wonder that it happened so fast. My husband had planned to go to Egypt in the spring to see family and take care of some stuff, but now that's off the table for only Allah knows how long. We are reduced to being a far-off audience, witnessing history from a distance.

Even that is complicated, because we have a family member in Egypt who is ill - an elderly uncle who broke his hip - so my husband and his New York based sister have been working the phones, talking to other family members about his care and trying to support those few who are willing to actually take care of this poor old man. Nothing is easy in Egypt. His operation was delayed because of the protests - the hospital was short-staffed and it's not a really good place even at the best of times. So pile worry on top of worry, and that's been my husband for the last few weeks. It stresses you out and fries your brain, but he can't even take time off because there are bills to pay, money to be made, kids who need groceries. So he stumbles through the day as best he can, distracted and worried and still managing to do what needs to be done. All I can do is stand behind him and offer my support.

So, that's been my month. I know that all of you are dealing with life issues, because, well, that's the nature of our lives. Kids are sick, work is hard, there is no work. School was shut down but you had to figure out some way to study and take finals. Your car broke down. You had a fight with your mom. Someone made a nasty comment about your beard. The heat is not working. We deal with this stuff every day. Seems we go from stress to stress and the key is in finding the everyday beauty in our lives and being able to appreciate it even in the midst of the ugliness. Throughout all this, I've been able to stand proudly with my son as he competes in a spelling bee, I laugh at a silly joke another son tells me, I smile lovingly at my baby who has a face full of rice cereal, I brush my daughter's hair, I chuckle at a funny status update. I refuse to get bogged down in the negative because the negative is a part of life, but only a part, and it does not define my life.

I will always appreciate the single flower that pushes up through the cracks in the concrete. That's just my nature.

The Cats are Cute But They Can Be a Pain

2011-01-21T09:34:00.001-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Okay, so, like the title says, the cats are cute. They are friendly, fluffy, amusing, and all that, But, boy, can they be a pain sometimes.

I was awakened at oh-dark-thirty this morning by the sound of the two cats batting an empty water can back and forth along the hardwood floor in the hallway. There was no ignoring it or sleeping through it; I tossed off my warm blanket and stepped out into the hall. The wet hall. It appears the water can was not empty when they first started playing with it. I was next to the linen closet so I grabbed a towel to sop up the water, then went to put the can back in the bathroom. More bad news. The floor in there was wet as well, and the water had mixed in with stray bits of super-clumping cat litter that the cats had scattered from their litterbox. Evidently, when that happens, the litter adheres to the bathroom floor kind of like cement. Well, considering it was still the middle of the night, I just tossed another towel down and went back to bed.

My morning routine is always hectic. No matter how well prepared I am, something happens to throw me off schedule. A shoelace breaks, a sweater is lost, someone spills yogurt on his pants. There were no major disasters but now I had to add floor scrubbing to the morning regimen. I'm always saying alhamdulillah that I have a small bathroom, so I was especially thankful today that I only had a small floor to scrub on my hands and knees. Now the deed is done and my bathroom smells freshly of lemon-scented Pine Sol instead of, well, you know. I can relax and enjoy my coffee before tackling the rest of the tax papers that are neatly laid out on a folding table in my living room. I am woman, hear me roar! I can juggle kids, breakfast, mischievous cats, and tax time all with one hand tied behind my back. Okay, not really.

Off now to check out Facebook, read the news, and then head to the kitchen to get a start on dinner. Yes, it's 9:30 in the morning and I'm starting dinner. I'm ordering pizza for the kids inshaAllah tonight, but I'm also making kushari for us grownups. May as well cook the lentils now so it's one less thing to do later. And I cheated and got sweet onions - lower sulphur content means fewer tears - so I won't have to walk around with red eyes for half the day.

Jumuah Mubarak to all my Muslim brothers and sisters!

Of Hot Showers and Cat Poop

2011-01-15T09:38:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

This morning, I decided to do something that single people do. I decided to take a shower. You know, a shower. Oh, I take showers all the time, but usually about a day later than I wanted to because of the constant demands of the house and children, This morning, everyone was up, so I deposited the baby in his brother's room, put on cartoons, grabbed my towel, and headed for the bathroom. I was so silly, so naive....

I had only been in the bathroom a few minutes and had not even started the water (women have a pre-shower preparation ritual that takes some time), when I heard the shuffling of tiny feet outside the bathroom door, followed by a chorus of "ewwwws". There was some high-pitched shrieking and I could only make out the words "Zaid" and "cat poop". Sighing, I put on a robe and opened the door. My brood was standing there, just standing, commenting like bystanders at a crime scene as they gawked at their baby brother, who was sitting next to the cats' litter box with a sliver of poop held firmly in his grasp.

Taking in this scene, I went into Efficient Mommy Mode, all thoughts of a nice hot shower abandoned. I scooped up the baby and and took him into the bathroom thankful that the offering in his hand was at least dry and not fresh. Yeah, too much information, I know. I pried his little hand open - babies have a really strong grasping reflex, don't they? - and tossed the offending poopage into the trash. Then I did a very thorough hand-cleaning, and did the old finger-scooping-out-the-mouth just to ensure that he hadn't - ugh - consumed any of the aforementioned poopage. All clear there, alhamdulillah.

I intended to just redeposit him in his brother's room but I realized cat poop wasn't the only poop I had to deal with. Sighing even more now, I took him to the changing table and dealt with what I found there. Finally, freshly cleaned, powdered, and diapered, I was able to give him to his brother and escape to the bathroom. The thrill was gone, though. The happy anticipation had faded and now I just hopped in, did my business, and hopped out. I had lost my shower mojo.

It is now only 9:35 am and I have made coffee, fed hubby, fed the rest of the family, and now I'm about to jump into a mound of neglected paperwork so the tax man doesn't come and haul me off. Come to think of it, cat poop seems pretty okay by comparison.

I Was About to Devalue My Worth

2011-01-13T14:17:00.001-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Mornings are always hectic. I wake up, start the water for coffee and tea, make breakfast for my father-in-law, wake the kids, help find the inevitable lost shoe or missing homework paper, feed the cats, and try not to look too closely at the reminders of yesterday's undone tasks.

There's something new in the mix - my husband is now working from home. This means that, instead of seeing him hastily out the door with his coffee and an egg sandwich, I now have him underfoot for part of the day. Now, you ladies out there might react with either joy - Sweet! She has her hubby with her! or horror - Ugh! She has her hubby with her! Overall, it's a good move. We've worked together before and we really mesh pretty well and don't get on each other's nerves too much. But it makes my day just that bit more complex, as I have to think about lunch for him in addition to the others in the house. He'll ask me to do a random task, like calling a customer or answering an email, and I usually end up juggling the baby and typing one-handed, or plopping him in the crib to wail in abandonment for five minutes.

The biggest adjustment is to my attitude. I'm a naturally anxious person. I always feel that I should be up doing something. I know that, on the other side of the wall where I'm sitting, there are tax papers waiting to be sorted, a carpet that needs to be vacuumed, a window that needs a good cleaning - and that's just one room. I feel guilty when I take any time for myself, and there's always this tension between what I am doing and what I feel I should be doing. Toss hubby in the mix and it's even harder. I know that he's coming and going, schlepping boxes and lifting heavy stuff and packing and working very hard. I feel like if he's standing up, I should be too. If he's working, I should be as well. But that's not the way it works.

My rational brain says "Lady, you are NEVER off duty. Do you remember you've been up part of the last three nights with a fussy baby? Do you remember that you've hardly been able to get him out of your arms long enough to write a coherent sentence? You realize it's been three days since you had time to work on your knitting? If that baby goes down for a nap, don't you dare head for the broom or the vacuum or laundry basket. You sit your butt down and rest for a few minutes. Yes, there are dirty dishes in the sink. They'll keep."

See, I think a lot of us women have the habit of devaluing what we do around the house. I may not be sweating under the hot sun at a construction site, or working in a small gray cubicle somewhere, or swearing in rush hour traffic, but I AM working. It never ends. Breakfast, snack, diaper, lunch, diaper, cleaning rug where diaper leaked, litter box, second lunch for kids at school, laundry, homework, tea for hubby, dinner, help kids with Qur'an, and on and on. If I don't make a conscious effort to carve out time for myself when the opportunity presents itself, I can go literally for days at a time without a "me" moment. And here I was, about to get off the computer this morning and go do "something" even before I had drunk my coffee, just because I was feeling unjustifiably guilty for the mere act of sitting down and logging on to CNN.

And really, I do it to myself. My husband is keenly aware that I am chronically sleep-deprived and would happily relieve me if putting food on the table and paying the rent were not of primary importance. He supports my writing and blogging and even Facebooking, even though he shut his page down after a few months. He knows that I have said mornings are my "me" time, so that if he comes in around noon, when I head for the kitchen to make lunch, he'll see the bed still unmade and dishes just drying on the counter. And he is fine with that. He's downstairs. He can hear when the baby is crying - often - or when our toddler has a temper tantrum - also often. He knows that I make real food and that takes time, and that the kids can mess up a room five minutes after I've cleaned it, and he even apologized for rescuing the cats because he knew their care would fall on my shoulders. So I have him in my corner, and still I feel antsy for doing what I love to do.

So, this morning, I told my self, "Self, you are gonna sit here and make FB updates and take pictures of your knitting and make a cute comment about your cat and drink your coffee and watch CNN and do precious little else except see to the kids' needs. And you're going to quiet that stupid little overactive gremlin in your head who tries to make you feel guilty for doing anything that pleases you."

I haven't shut that gremlin up completely, but I did make him go sulk in the corner and leave me alone for a while. And that's a good start.

Raising Arizona

2011-01-09T19:50:00.001-05:00

Yesterday at 1:59pm EST I posted a CNN update to my Facebook profile. "Several Shot at Tucson Grocery". As the day wore on more facts became known and the numbers of dead and wounded grew. Bad enough that a US congresswoman was targeted; bad enough that a federal judge was killed; bad enough that a beautiful nine-year-old girl lost her life. The final tally of six dead and fourteen wounded was a knife in the heart of all Americans of conscience, no matter their political affiliation. At this moment, Representative Giffords lies in intensive care, struggling to recover from a critical injury. Other families are mourning their dead or sitting vigil beside other bedsides, and all of us are trying to make sense of a senseless act. Of course, spin doctors on the right and the left are wasting no time in trying to put this tragedy in context, but in reality there can be no context for such an act. It stands on its own in all its obscene useless sensational ugliness. Context? That is almost as stupid a word as "closure" and as irrelevant to to this situation.

Major media outlets are covering this assassination attack exhaustively. Websites such as Huffington Post have posted minute-by-minute updates on both the victims and the shooter. Bloggers with exponentially more followers than I have are frantically posting and tweeting and inventing new hashtags to cover all the details of the shooting. Conspiracy theorists are parsing Jared Loughner's Youtube videos and trying to draw lines of connection from him to various anti-American groups. In the midst of it all, I am bemused by the normality of the world around me - my world, not the larger world of politics and terrorism and schizophrenia and brain surgery, but the tiny world that is important to me, swirling around me with joy and chaos and anger over broken toys and spilled juice. My husband, my kids, my relatives near and far. As I'm watching the world change yet again my two year old runs up and demands a cracker. My oldest son takes a break from his computer game to get a glass of water, and the baby at my feet smiles as he gnaws on my pants leg until it is soggy with drool. They ignore the TV coverage, more interested in Tuff Puppy and Spongebob. They know nothing about politics or mental illness; they only care that Mommy said they could eat the crackers I'd had stashed away for school snacks.

I'm keenly aware of the blessings in my life, of the luxury of being able to complain about small things like a stain on the carpet or a toilet that won't stop running. The families of the dead and wounded in Arizona would rush to take my place, would be overjoyed to deal with such mundane complaints instead of preparing for a marathon of hospitals and rehab, or grief and funerals. And touched as I am by the pain of this attack, all too soon I turn away from the TV to make a meal, do a load of laundry, play peekaboo or help my son prepare for his spelling bee. My life, simple as it is, goes on.

I called UMC Tucson, the hospital where Rep. Giffords is being treated, asking for some information. Swamped as they are with media requests from actual media personnel, the lady in charge of media relations was kind enough to call me back, puzzled no doubt as to who I was, calling with no credentials and no title other than "blogger". I was asking if any babies had been born at the hospital yesterday. The charge nurse had previously told me yes before handing off my request, and the media relations lady promised to try to find out more details and get back to me. Kind of her, indeed. I'm sure she's not getting any sleep tonight. Maybe she'll be able to wedge me in between Greta van Susteren and Wolf Blitzer.

Why am I interested in the babies that were born at that hospital yesterday? Well, perhaps it's a bit of the old "circle of life" thing. These babies, these little boys and girls, are going to inherit the world that we give to them. As six lives have ended, their lives are just beginning, and we have a duty to them to try to improve the situation that they are being born into. It's not just the violence and the polarized politics and anti-immigration fervor. It's the underlying anger and incivility that allows these topics to take over our society. We have got to get a handle on it and figure out how to talk to one another without drawing lines in the sand or putting huge chips on our shoulders, daring with jutting chins for anyone to knock them off. I'm not naive; I know that the hatemongers out there are not going to be silent and they are not going to go away. But the rest of us can marginalize them if we refuse to by into their "us-vs-them" mentality. I went to the grocery store the other day and managed to make it all the way from produce to dairy to the freezer section and out to the checkstand without ever asking anyone's political affiliation. The lady bagging my groceries didn't ask "paper or plastic"; nor did she ask "Democrat or Republican". The guy gathering carts didn't ask to see my citizenship papers, and when I pulled up to a red light on the way out of the parking lot, no one cut me off and cussed me out because I'm driving an import. We manage to get along in our everyday lives; why the hell can't we get along in our political and public lives? I guess I'm echoing Jon Stewart now and his image of cars merging into traffic that was played at the Rally to Restore Sanity. It was high time for that rally and God willing we can bring the message from that day back into the public consciousness. If we are going to survive as a nation, we have got to stop sniping at each other and start figuring out how to put our big boy and big girl pants on and work together.

So, where do we go from here? Most of us will turn off the TV and watch a little football or work on our taxes, make sure the kids have clean socks for school in the morning or double check the weather forecast and pray for no more snow. In the morning we'll check for updates and shake our heads and tsk tsk about the horror of it all while we eat a bran muffin and drink a cup of coffee and complain about the new Starbucks logo. We'll get stuck in traffic or head for the home office or sleep late if we're one of the millions of unemployed. We'll spare a kind thought for the victims and even shed some honestly sympathetic tears, then we'll get on with our lives. Life goes on.... Let's just promise ourselves that we'll do a bit more in our lives to reach out to others, to see people instead of labels, talk to instead of at people, and realize that someone who is a Republican, or a Democrat, or - gasp! - a Libertarian, is first and foremost a person, a human being worthy of the respect of civilized contact. I'll even refrain from closing my blog post with something snarky about Rush Limbaugh or Glenn Beck. At least tonight.

The Whole Virgins in Paradise Thing....

2011-01-08T11:14:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Okay, let's deal with this whole "72 virgins" thing. Non-Muslims, most often those hostile to Islam, always bring this up as an accusation against Muslims claiming that Muslim men are lustful beasts and even our concept of heaven proves that. Of course, some of the people who believe this are upright moral Christians like Newt Gingrich, who had an affair and then went to his wife to discuss a divorce while she was in the hospital recovering from cancer treatment. But that's neither here nor there. There are reasonable men and women who have trouble with this concept, so I thought I'd put in my two cents' worth and try to explain it. Here goes:

Okay, first of all, most people nowadays do not practice polygyny, where a man can have more than one wife, but the concept is well-rooted in history and met with no opprobrium until modern times. Moses, pbuh, did not forbid it, nor did Jesus, pbuh. Until Islam came along there was little regulation of it. Prophet Muhammad, pbuh, taught that a man was limited to no more than four wives, and if he felt he could not be fair with them, he should limit himself to only one. He also taught that if a man was not fair in dividing his wealth in an equitable fashion, and dividing his time equally, he would come leaning to one side on the Day of Judgment, like a stroke victim. So Islam was the first religion to deal with this issue and set protections for women. Islam also taught that women were not property who could be inherited, women could not be married off without their consent, they had the right to have their own business and property, and they had the right to be supported financially 100% by their husbands. These are rights that were not given to women in the West until relatively recently.

Okay, so now most westerners are not comfortable with polygyny, but that does not detract from the wisdom of allowing it. We'll leave aside that discussion for another day and jump to the topic of the beautiful women, the hoor al ayn, of Jannah.

I don't know about the number 72; I'll just keep the number to one for simplicity's sake. So, let's say that a man and a woman are married in this world. They are married for, oh, 40 years. They are Muslim, they are good people, they raise up good Muslim children and have nice lives full of the usual ups and downs. They pass away. Islam teaches that they will be together in Jannah if they both get in; they will be married there just as they were in this world. In addition to his worldly wife, a man will also have a wife from among the hoor al ayn, who are a separate creation of Allah. They are not human women.

Muslims have no problem believing in another creation of Allah, because we believe in humans, angels, and jinns, all different sentient groups with unique attributes. So Allah created these hoor al ayn only for men in Jannah, for a specific purpose, which is companionship.

Aha! Companionship. Companionship? Isn't that a euphemism for sex? Well, sort of, but not really, because there will be no sex as we understand it in Jannah. What? Correct. Try and wrap your head around this:

Jannah is not like this world. Its pleasures are purified and what we call food in Jannah is perfect and only resembles food of this world like a weak shadow on a cloudy day resembles the person who casts it.

The same can be said of sexual relations. The best sex any person ever had at any time in this world is nothing compared to the perfection of pleasure in Jannah. Everything in Jannah will be purified, perfect, and unique from anything this world has to offer: We have food, Jannah has food; we have drink, Jannah has drink; we have sex, Jannah has sex. But in Jannah, everything is purified and on a higher plane; food is not be prepared over a hot stove, juice does not have to be squeezed. Our bodies will not have stool or urine or mucus. We won't get colds, or diseases. Sex will be similarly purified, which we with our worldly limited brains cannot understand.

Because we cannot understand this, we have a hard time relating to descriptions of Jannah even as they are given to us in the Qur'an and the authentic sayings of Prophet Muhammad, pbuh. We can read that there will be no jealousy or enmity in Jannah, but our real life selves can't imagine turning loose of all the baggage we have, the petty jealousies and hurts and very real memories of betrayal or pain. We can intellectually accept that sex in Jannah is different, but we can't turn loose of knowledge of worldly sex with its complications, lust, fear, guilt, disease, rape, regret. There is no date rape, there is no uh-oh, there is no "what was I thinking?" in Jannah.

So, you and your husband are in Jannah. You look wonderful; your bodies are at their best shape, they are in perfect health, and you won't age or decay; You and your husband love each other and any arguments you may have had back in the world are gone, wiped from your mind so that you only have love and respect for one another. Quick note to husbands: this is not a reason for you to not take out the trash or lower the toilet seat.

Now, you are individuals, and even in Jannah you have the same personalities, though purified, that you had back in the dunya, the world before you died. So, say, if your husband enjoyed woodworking and you loved to garden, you will still have a love of these things when you are in Jannah. You may even be able to pursue such loves as "hobbies" sort of, in Jannah. How do we know? We have this hadith:

One of the inhabitants of Paradise will seek permission from his Lord for cultivation. Allah will ask him: Are you not in a state that you like? He will say: “yes, but I like to cultivate (the land). (When the man is permitted) he will soon sow the seeds. The plants will grow up get ripe and be ready for harvesting. Then the yield will develop into conglobation like huge mountain… (Bukhari,5, p.413/10119).

So we know that if we have a permissible desire in Jannah, Allah will allow us to pursue it. I always envision, that if Allah grants me Jannah, that I would love to learn every textile art, like weaving and knitting and lacemaking. I can while away hours praising Allah and learning these crafts.

Okay, now back to our topic. So, you'll have hobbies and your husband will have hobbies, right? And you'll love and respect each other and there will be plenty of time for purified sexual relations that you can enjoy with one another. But what if YOU are busy teaching yourself how to knit a scarf out of some rareified yarn and you are in the midst of it and your husband is in the mood? Well, in the worldly world before Jannah, you would be expected to respond to your husband even if you are busy and not particularly in the mood:

Allah’s Messenger said, “When a man calls his wife to satisfy his desire she must go to him even if she is occupied at the oven.” (Hadith - Tirmidhi 3257)

This is because a woman gets a great reward from Allah for responding to her husband, and a husband's needs are often very intense and by responding to him a woman protects him from being attracted to any woman outside the house. But this is Jannah. Jannah is not a place of serving, it is a place of being served; it is a place of rest and doing what you want, not doing what someone else, even a beloved husband, wants. So how do we reconcile his desire to have purified sexual relations and your desire to continue knitting? This is where the hoor al ayn come in. She was created to be a companion for your husband; she was created to be perfectly obedient to him with no free will and no desire to do anything but serve him. She won't be busy knitting. Your husband can fulfill his desires - because Jannah is not a place for him to wait any more than it is a place for you to serve him - you can finish your knitting, and later, when you both are focused on one another, you can enjoy each others' company.

Be honest, ladies. In this worldly life, there are always going to be times when you're just not in the mood to respond to your husband. If the reason is legitimate, like you were up all night with a sick child, or you have a horrible sinus headache or something, then your husband does not have the right to force you and he should be patient, and Allah will not hold you responsible for what is beyond your ability. But if you have no legitimate reason beyond "I'd rather be watching Seinfeld", then you are expected to respond. You may have thought, just for a moment, that it would be cool for him to have another wife so you can have a night off and put on face cream, wear fuzzy slippers, eat Ben & Jerry's and watch a chick flick without having to make tea or get him a snack or take a tumble in the bed. Well, in Jannah, that's why the man has the hoor al ayn.

I hope this helps clarify the issue for you a bit. If you have a knot in your stomach at the thought of your husband being with that lovely hoor al ayn, just relax and remember that Allah knows best and you will be a better you when you are in Jannah, Allah willing. You won't have jealousy, you won't have self-consciousness and worry if the robes of Jannah make you look fat. You won't have any negative thoughts at all. So leave Jannah to Jannah; it will be there. Your job now is to be the best Muslimah you can in this world so that you CAN be in Jannah. Allah knows our innermost selves and He will make Jannah perfect for each of us. My Jannah has gardens and cute little dragons and knitting and growing things; your Jannah might have flying and painting and pomegrantes that peel themselves. It will be perfect, so let us work on perfecting our characters so Allah will grant it to us. Don't worry about those hoor al ayn. They've got nothing on you. And Allah knows best.

Al Kawthar

2011-01-07T08:52:00.003-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

SubhanAllah! You never know when something will strike you differently. I know surat al Kawthar and recite it fairly often. As a mom with young kids running about I am often forced to resort to very short surahs in my prayers, and it doesn't get much shorter than this one:

1. Verily, We have granted you (O Muhammad ()) Al-Kauthar (a river in Paradise);

2. Therefore turn in prayer to your Lord and sacrifice (to Him only).

3. For he who makes you angry (O Muhammad ()), - he will be cut off (from every good thing in this world and in the Hereafter).

I recite it and go on. But this morning, while searching for an answer to a question about the wives of the Prophet, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him, I came across the story of his marriage to Maria al Qibtiyya and the birth and death of his son by her, Ibrahim. Ibrahim was born healthy but passed away at around eighteen months.

"Maria gave birth to a healthy son in 9 AH, the same year that his daughter Zaynab died, and the Prophet named his new son Ibrahim, after the ancestor of both the Jews and the Christians, the Prophet from whom all the Prophets who came after him were descended. Unfortunately, when he was only eighteen months old, Ibrahim became seriously ill and died. Even though he knew that his small son would go to the Garden, the Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings of Allah be upon him) could not help shedding some tears. When some of his Companions asked him why he was weeping, he replied, "It is my humanness."

As Ibrahim's body was being buried, the sun was eclipsed and it grew dark and gloomy. Some people thought this was connected with Ibrahim's death, but the Prophet soon clarified this. "The sun and the moon are two of Allah's signs," he said, "they are not eclipsed because of anyone's birth or death. When you see these signs, make haste to remember Allah in prayer." Although the kafirun used to mock the Prophet Muhammad because he had no sons, and say that he was 'cut off' , Allah made it clear in the following surah that the station of the Prophet Muhammad was far above that of any other man;

In the name of Allah, The Merciful, the Compassionate: Surely We have given you AL Khawthar, so pray to your Lord and offer sacrifice. Surely he who mocks you is the one cut off. (Quran 108:1-3)"

Reading the tafsir, the explanation, of this surah, reading it in the context of his grief over the death of his son and the taunts of the pagans of Quraish, I found myself becoming emotional, tears flooding my eyes. I had read this surah so many times before, but only by KNOWING what I was reciting, and knowing the background, could I truly appreciate the depth of this promise that Allah, subhanahu wa ta'ala, made to Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him.

It is a reminder to us all that it is not sufficient to simply memorize Qur'an and recite it like a parrot recites what its master teaches, without understanding. We have to learn what the Arabic means, and under what circumstances each verse was revealed. This is the only way we can truly honor Allah's Messenger, pbuh, and worship Allah in the best way. And Allah knows best.

Prophet Muhammad asked his wives' permission

2011-01-06T17:40:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmtullah.

I was taking care of some simple household task, thinking of nothing in particular, when I remembered an incident that happened towards the end of the life of our beloved Prophet Muhammad, may Allah's peace and blessings be upon him. He was ill, what turned out to be his final illness, and he was in the house of his wife Maymoonah, may Allah be pleased with her. He asked her to call all his wives to him, and when they assembled he asked their permission to stay with his wife Aisha, may Allah be pleased with her, during his illness. Let me repeat that: He asked permission of his wives to stay in the house of his wife Aisha during his illness.

If you know much about polygyny in Islam, you know that it has strict rules. The husband may have up to four wives (Allah allowed Prophet Muhammad, pbuh, to exceed this number but no one else may) and the husband must divide his resources equitably and divide his time in an equal manner. If he sets up a schedule where he spends two nights at one wife's home, then he must spend two nights at each of the other wives' homes as well. A man who does not treat his wives fairly will come leaning on the Day of Judgment, so this is a fair warning against any man who takes such things lightly.

So, think about this. Prophet Muhammad, pbuh, was at that time the leader of all the Muslims. He had political power as head of state, so to speak, along with his spiritual leadership. It would have been easy for him to pronounce that he would stay with Aisha while he was sick. No one would have disagreed with him or gainsaid said him. It would have been considered reasonable, as he was ill and it would be difficult for him to move from house to house. Yet, he did not merely declare that he was making this move; he assembled his wives and asked them. They all agreed, and he stayed with Aisha, ra, and breathed his last in her house.

So, brothers - and sisters too - think about this whenever you are about to make a decision that short-circuits the rights of others, be that your wife or wives, your employees, your family, your coworkers, or your brothers and sisters in faith. If Allah's Messenger, pbuh, was so strict about observing the rights of his wives, how can you excuse yourself from doing the same? Just a thought that came to me in a free moment.... And Allah knows best.

Life is Happening and I'm Trying to Keep Up With It.

2011-01-06T09:37:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Hello, world! I've been wrapped up in my life the last few days and haven't really had the time to write or even think about my writing. It's amazing; I go through a few very productive days and then I have a brain fart and can barely put two sentences together. Well, I can blame it on my husband and my kids. Honest! My husband is now working from home again so we have to all adjust our schedules. I'm working with him again, not full time yet, but answering email, doing paperwork, that sort of thing. I am holding on to my "me time" tightly but it's been pushed aside the last couple of weeks due to the chaos of the transition from warehouse to home. I'm just digging in and not fighting it because it has to be done and I want to support him and not be the snipy little wench while he's exhausting himself moving everything. InshaAllah it will settle down in another week or so and I can get some sort of a routine back. Right now, there are dirty dishes in the sink, mashed-up tortilla chips on the rug in the dining room, clean laundry that needs to be folded... I could go on. But I have designated mornings as my time and since the baby is not fussing at the moment I'm not budging on that.

Ah, the baby. His Majesty has been in a very needy, fussy state the last few days. I was hardly able to put him down at all, and when I could I had to do needed tasks like making breakfast or lunch or cleaning the litterbox, stuff you can't put off. I was getting very frustrated, especially since his sister, who is two and a half, is also in a clingy state and is wont to fall on the floor with a dramatic temper tantrum if she doesn't get what she wants. Deep breath, count to ten, count to one hundred, eat a cookie, sigh. Repeat as necessary. I've been eating a lot of cookies.

There's so much I want to do. In a perfect world, my perfect children would be perfectly behaved and stand silently by looking at me with loving eyes while I type out the Perfect Novel and find a cure for hangnails in my spare time. The reality is quite a bit messier, so I guess I have to just roll with it.

I'm making a list of all I have to do: call the vet, call the tax lady, figure out how to use Quickbooks, clean, laundry, clean again after the kids mess up what I've cleaned, and on and on. I really wish scientists would get busy with cloning so I can have another me to help me out. And alter that me's DNA just enough so that she enjoys cleaning.

Today, inshaAllah, I want to at least review my surah that I'm working on, surat Yasin. And I want to do a bit of knitting. And bake something. But you know what? I'm not gonna stress if I can't. InshaAllah I can get to it another day.

What I'm Making For Dinner Today

2010-12-28T13:30:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah. Well, I seem to be in a bit of a writer's block, that and the baby won't let me alone for more than five seconds, which kind of short-circuits my ability to write coherently. He's busy torturing his siblings at the moment, so I'll do something easy and write down the recipe for what I'm making for dinner:

1 pound of white beans, soaked and drained
1 onion, chopped
bunch of spices, to be named shortly
8 oz can of tomato sauce

In a deep pot, I put a tablespoon of oil. Sautee chopped onions on medium heat for ten minutes until soft and translucent. Add these spices: two teaspoons cumin, one teaspoon each of salt, black pepper, garlic powder; 1/2 teaspoon chili powder and turmeric; 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon; dash of red pepper flakes; two bay leaves. Sautee for a couple of minuetes while mixing into the onions. Then add the tomato sauce. Sautee an additional two minutes. Add the drained beans and water to cover, and one chicken boullion cube. Cover and bring to a boil; reduce to a simmer and cook for one hour.

Note: I also tossed in a couple of frozen chicken thighs that I had in the freezer and wanted to use up, but you can keep this a vegetarian dish if you like. Fish the chicken thighs out when they are cooked, remove the meat, chop it up, and return to the pot.

Meanwhile, while beans are cooking, peel two large all-purpose potatoes. Cut into small cubes. Add potatoes to beans after one hour and cook half an hour to one hour more or until potatoes are done. Check spices and adjust salt and pepper and heat as necessary.

I plan to serve this over rice but if you don't want all the starch serve it as a soup. If you want it to be thicker, you can take about two cups from the pot and puree them in a blender, then return to the pot and stir in.

Enjoy!

Friday Evening Musings

2010-12-17T19:32:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

Ah, finally a moment to relax. The hubby is home, getting ready to take a shower, which is why I am here and not chilling with him. The kids are playing quietly and the baby is taking a nap. For once, chaos does not reign.

I was considering today how much having the kids sick has cut into my writing time. Amazing how much time the extra laundry, medicating, potty trips, diapering, head-holding-while-barfing, and other activities take out of my day. Alhamdulillah, everyone is doing reasonably okay, not "miserable sick", able to eat and drink and with decent energy. Just have to let the thing run its course. So far the baby and I have been spared, a real blessing because it's hard enough taking care of everyone while I'm healthy.

I've managed to clean a mountain of laundry, feed everyone, wash dishes, clean the bathroom, and cook the rest of the Eid beast, so I feel very virtuous and I plan to take the evening off and maybe, just maybe, work on my cross stitch.

Ah, as if on cue, a fight erupted between two of my kids and my toddler has approached and has flung herself on the ground in a tizzy because her brother took the Buzz Lightyear toy she had just grabbed from him. Good to see that the usual order of things has reasserted itself. And the baby woke up and is sitting on the remote and is changing channels with his butt. And the two middle boys want more pizza. And the oldest son is watching an episode of NCIS I've seen way too many times. Sounds like I'm back on duty.

May Allah bless us all to appreciate the mundane beauty of our lives and to see the transcendent in the everyday, Ameen.

Hello, May I Offer You A Crime?

2010-12-08T23:31:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I hesitated before posting this. I don't want anyone to take this the wrong way. So let me preface my little tale by saying that I am a religious Muslim and I'm proud of my faith. I also believe that suicide bombings are wrong, attacking innocent civilians is wrong, and that the people who get sucked into conspiracies hatched by law enforcement are so dumb they probably deserve what they get. What is dumber is for my tax money to be spent on sting operations that target the aforementioned dumb people and entrap them into committing crimes they never would have otherwise been a part of. Yes, lots of testosterone-driven young Muslim men post "I love jihad" on their Facebook pages and talk about the injustice, the very real injustice, of Israelis killing Palestinians and the US going to war against a country that did not attack us on 9/11. And lots of testosterone-driven young Muslim men, left to themselves, would continue to post such information, would continue to listen to lectures by Anwar al Awlaki, and would also continue to work at their uncle's halaal meat shop and would never get beyond muttering angrily into their teacups while they hang out at the shisha place on Friday nights. These are the angry young men, full of righteous indignation and no prospects, who get taken in by the government. And it is not making you or me one whit safer, because by using these deceitful tactics, by sending agents provocateur into our masaajid, they are alienating the very people they need the most in the fight against murder in the name of Islam. How do they do it? Read on....

Okay, imagine you are an undercover cop and you want to prevent bank robberies. Let's say you go into a bar and you buy your beer and you just sit around and listen to guys talking. You hang out at the bar almost every night and then one night John is complaining to Bob that, dang it, he's tired of living paycheck to paycheck and he wishes he could just knock off a bank and get rich. Yeah, Bob, replies, we'd really stick it to those rich bankers, huh? They both laugh over the idea, talk about what they'd do with all that money, drain their beers, say goodnight, and go home for the evening. They meet up at the bar a couple of times a week, and talk about robbing a bank becomes kind of a running joke. The undercover cop overhears them and thinks Aha! I've found someone who could possibly at some time in his life consider thinking about wanting to rob a bank. How can I actually get him to DO that so I can arrest him and keep him from robbing the bank? So he moseys up to the two guys and offers to buy the next round. They get to talking and shooting the breeze, and undercover cop just "happens" to mention that his cousin is a teller at a local bank, and that dang bank has stiffed him by not paying him enough and not promoting him. Sure would be nice to get back at that evil bank....

So the seed is sewn and the undercover cop cultivates John and Bob, feeding their anger at the unfair bank and giving them nuggets of information about how easy it would be to knock off a bank when you've got someone on the inside. Over time, the talk moves from the land of idle fantasy to reality, and the tipping point is reached when undercover cop brings John and Bob two guns, a getaway car, and his cousin's work schedule. John and Bob, who never in their lives would have the werewithal or knowhow to rob an actual bank, are about to rob an actual bank. Or so they think.

The day arrives. Undercover cop, having woven his web and drawn them in, feebly offers them the opportunity to call off the job, while stoking their hatred of bankers and rich people and painting an image of them as Robin Hood heroes. They figure they've gone this far, and everything has worked smoothly thus far. What could go wrong? They gas up the getaway car, put the guns (loaded with blank rounds, of course), into their jackets and head off towards the bank. Undercover cop says he will be the getaway driver, so when they go inside, he is able to simply walk away. The "cousin" is another undercover cop, and he continues to play out the fake robbery scenario with a lobby full of cops dressed as tellers and customers. Bob and John pull out their guns and yell "This is a stickup!" and are promptly drawn down on by twenty people carrying guns NOT loaded with blank rounds. They are arrested, paraded before the media, and the world hears how the police have foiled a pair of crafty bank robbers out to steal from hardworking Americans.

My friends, this is called ENTRAPMENT. Change John and Bob to Ahmed and Hassan and change it from a bar to a mosque and change it from a bank robbery to an attack on a recruiting station or a Christmas tree lighting, and you have what we are told is " defending the country". Is this the best use of our resources? I think not. The only small satisfaction I get is that, in the case of the young man in Baltimore who was just arrested, the FBI did get a terminally stupid individual off the street before he could hurt himself by stumbling over his ignorance. I feel safer already.

A Love Story for Married People

2010-12-06T13:38:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah. Sometimes I wonder to myself if I am a person who writes, or if I am a writer. Then I have a story that forms itself completely in my head, and there's nothing I can to relieve the tension but write it down. This is one of those stories that convinces me that I am a writer because I MUST write. I had been reading some status updates that were kind of down on marriage, down on the male side of marriage, that is, and this came to me. Now, I'm not a man-basher and this domestic situation does NOT reflect how my husband treats me. I have to say that up front because some of you out there will say "Aha! She's in a bad patch!" It's fiction, people, not my life, so though the story is from the heart (I'm such a wuss that I was actually in tears while writing it), it is NOT from my life. My husband, Allah bless him, tells me what he appreciates in me. He's not shy or too "macho" to say thank you, to accept my input in business or domestic issues, and he realize that I am indispensable for keeping him up-to-date on the storyline of his favorite police drama and explaining the rules of football. So take this story for what it's worth. A cautionary tale of how we can allow marriage to go stale. And though the emphasis here is on the men, the women also need to look at themselves and honestly evaluate what they are doing to please Allah and keep their marriages strong. I hope you enjoy the story:

Ahmed came home from work, tired and frustrated after having to meet a hard contract deadline and correct the work of a colleague who was about two days from being fired. Firing him was not going to be a good solution, because then all his work would land on Ahmed's desk. The week promised to go from bad to worse.

Once inside the door, Ahmed took off his knitted cap and placed it carefully on the peg so he would be sure to have it the next morning to ward off the chill He dumped his briefcase on the sofa and left a trail of clothing on the way to the bathroom.... shoes, socks, necktie, shirt, pants. By the time he reached his "sanctuary" he was down to his skivvies, holding only the newspaper as he closed and locked the bathroom door. He had not yet said hello to his wife or uttered any word beyond a quiet "Salaam Alaikum" as he opened the door, so quiet that the words of peace did not reach his wife in the downstairs laundry room.

Aisha had heard the door open and hurried to toss a load of laundry in the washer before going up to greet her husband. She bustled up the stairs only to see the trail of dirty clothing and the light shining under the closed bathroom door. Sighing, she bent to pick up the clothing and then went back downstairs to add what her husband had discarded to the neverending pile of clothing to be washed. Closing the door on that task, she marched back upstairs to check dinner. Ah, ready, just in time. Over the years she had gotten her timing down to perfection, makings sure food was ready when her husband walked in the door, never making him wait. She fixed him a plate so it would cool a bit, poured water, and carried the tray to his favorite spot in the living room where he would sit and watch the news when he came home.

After about fifteen minutes, Ahmed emerged refreshed from the bathroom. He had washed up, made wudu, and then he went to pray the asr prayer. He said an absent salaam alaikum to Aisha as he passed her in the hallway and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then proceeded to his room to pray. He didn't ask if she had prayed yet or invite her to pray with him. Afterwards, he strolled out to the livingroom and sat in his chair. He said bismillah and started to eat. Aisha sat next to him, idly watching the news and noting his appreciative grunts as he ate. Finally, he swallowed a last bite, said "alhamdulillah" in no particular direction, and sat back. "Can you get me a toothpick?".

For a while while he digested, he talked to her, telling her about his day and mentioning how snowed under he was at work. He complained about his coworker and his boss, the traffic and the pollution downtown. Aisha nodded sympathetically and decided not to mention that her only "good" abaya had gotten torn, that the baby had sicked up on her twice, and that the garbage disposal was making funny noises if she used it. He had enough on his mind, she considered. She cleared his plates and went to check on the baby, who was still blissfully napping, and put on water for tea. While it was heatinng, she stole a few moments to review the verses of surah Kaafiruun, which she had been trying to memorize forever but whose repetitive lines were leaving her confused. She wanted to ask Ahmed about it but she didn't want to interrupt him while he was watching his favorite crime show.

Half an hour later, tea was drunk, the show was over, and Ahmed reminded her that they had a "thing" at the masjid tonight and he had promised to go. "I could go with you", Aisha said. "Well, that'd be fine, but I want to go early and you still have to feed and change the baby. I'll go now and you follow in the other car. Where's my galabiyya?" "In the front closet. It's ironed and your kufi is in the pocket." "Ah, thanks, okay. See you in a bit". He placed another absent-minded kiss on her forehead and walked out the door.

Aisha hustled to get the baby ready. It wasn't easy. Little Yasin woke up in a fuss, not wanting to settle to nurse, and once again he had pooped and had totally messed up his diaper and his shirt, necessitating the fifth wardrobe change of the day. As she dealt with the mess, Aisha felt alone and near tears. She tried to think of why, when she had just spent the last couple of hours with her husband. Well, she had been in the same room with him, but she didn't really feel as if she had been "with" him. He treated her with politeness, but with no more concern that he would a comfortable piece of furniture. He took for granted the clean house, quiet baby, freshly-cooked meal, and nicely pressed clothing. Yes, he was tired from work, but she worked, too, and her "job" did not allow her to clock out at a particular time and leave it all til the next day. Feeling down but determined to make it to the masjid, she finally worked the baby into his warm clothes, strapped him into his carseat, pinned the tear in her abaya, and dressed and made it out the door only a few minutes late for the lecture.

Once there, she entered the women's side and prayed two rak'aats of welcome to the masjid, then went to greet the ladies and cuddle babies, tousle the hair of the older children, and feel the warm glow of sisterhood. She felt so loved by these women. They always welcomed her with a heartfelt salaam, kissed her cheeks, inquired after her health, and made a fuss over the baby. Her friend Tasnim asked her how her Qur'an was coming. "Slowly, alhamdulillah", she replied. Tasim was her best friend. Her husband was the Imaam of the masjid and was a kind and gentle man. He had a ready smile and always took pains to include the women in any programs. Tasnim helped him teach and headed the outreach committee. She had seen that Aisha had been struggling recently and asked her what was wrong. Feeling guilty about telling her anything about her home situation, Aisha nonetheless shared with her that she was feeling a bit ignored by her husband, who seemed to have time for everyone but her. Tasnim didn't pry deeply but patted her hand and counseled her to patience, and she made du'a for her husband to wake up and learn to appreciate his wife. Since then, Tasnim had kept an eye on her friend and had talked to her husband about addressing the issue of husbands and wives. Tonight, he was going to speak on the topic. Directly after the maghrib prayer, the Imaam stood in front of the congregation, and after making du'a and reciting Qur'an, he began to speak.

"Brothers, what if I told you that there were some very special Muslims that I wanted you to meet? Wouldn't you like to know the details? If I told you to come to the masjid to meet a visiting scholar, you would run to listen to him. If I told you a chef was coming to cook a special meal, you'd break the speed limit getting here. If I told you that I knew a man who was very particular about cleanliness, you'd be very respectful of him. If I told you we had a visitor who was foremost in giving charity, you would crowd around to kiss him and hold his hand. If I told you that there was someone coming who taught the children our deen, you'd make du'a for him. If I told you there was a doctor visiting who always made housecalls and never complained when he was called out at night from a warm bed, you'd beg me for his telephone number. If I told you that all these persons were just ONE person, you'd tell me I was lying at that no one person could contain all these qualities. But I am here to tell you that such a person is among us tonight. This person has all these qualities and more, and this person has been living among you all the time and you didn't even know it. Who is this? You look back and forth among yourselves, wondering if the brother sitting beside you is the one, or that Moroccan guy over there, or the Palestinian brother who just moved here. You look at each other, but not ONE of you looks back to the women. Yes, the WOMEN. And not just one woman. The qualities that I mentioned, many of the sisters have them. They have some or all of those qualities in one level or another. Don't believe me?

There is a woman. She is a loving wife. She has taken pains to learn her religion so that she will know what her duty to Allah is, and what her duty towards her husband is. She has read so many books and attended classes, and she has taken what she has learned and tried to institute it in her life. She has learned how to cook her husband's favorited dishes so he doesn't feel so lonely, a thousand miles from his mother back home She has cleaned the house, scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees because she wants it to be clean enough for the kids to play on; she scrubs the bathroom walls, cleans clothing, washes dishes, cuts the kids' hair, trims their nails, bathes them, and still makes time to take a bath herself and apply perfume for her husband and to adorn herself to please him while at home. She spends her husband's money wisely, and makes sure the kids have money in their hands to tuck into the charity box on Friday. She forgoes jewelry and expensive clothing so that her husband can send money back to his family. When preparing dinner, she gives the best portions to her husband and children and does without if there is not enough. She teaches the children to say bismillah before they eat, recites Qur'an with them, reminds them to say please and thank you. She checks their homework and helps them with special projects. She wakes up in the night when someone is sick, or wants water, or just a cuddle, and still wakes up in the predawn to pray the fajr. She holds the qualities of a scholar, a chef, a doctor, a philantropist, a teacher, a friend. And yet... and yet....

So many of you men take your wives for granted. You treat them like children, giving orders and discipline, rather than your life mates and equals. Or worse, you treat them as servants, ruling over them harshly and either speaking cruelly to them or even striking them, Allah forbid. You rush out of the house to come to the masjid to be with your brothers and you ignore the one who is closest to you. You take her for granted and you rarely give her a kind word. You think of her as "wife" and forget she is also your sister in Islam and that she has rights on you. You break her heart every time you neglect to thank her for something she does for you fi sabil Allah. You kill her day by day until her heart is hardened against you and she either starts giving back what you're doing to her, or she simply "checks out" of the marriage and becomes that servant that you apparently wanted her to be. Shame on you brothers!

When a Muslim commits a sin against his brother or sister Muslim, it is not enough that he repents to Allah. He must also apologize to the one he has offended. So I abjure you, my Muslim brothers, to apologize to your mothers, your wives, your sisters, and your daughters if you have treated them in the manner I have described. It is not a shameful thing to admit you are wrong. It is not a shameful thing to apologize. You are not making yourself look weak if you soften your heart towards your women. You are showing that you are strong in your Islam and that you understand that Allah created women to be our helpmates, not our slaves. If you do this one thing, which is really look at your wife, see her as she is, respect her, and TELL her that you respect her, I swear by Allah that your life will improve. If you ignore me and think that your life is just fine and I'm a soft stupid wimp and women need to be "put in their place", then the sin of that is on you and I wash my hands of you. Don't ignore this message, brothers. You marriage is the foundation for your life and the safe spot that you need as you go out in a harsh would to make a living. If the home is a place of peace and tranquility, you can overcome any obstacle that is in your way."

And on that note, the Imaam made a closing du'a and left the minbar, leaving the masjid in a state of silent shock as people tried to absorb what they had heard. Rarely had anyone spoken to the men in such a strong, forthright fashion. They were unsure what to do next, and most just sat there, pondering. The women were quiet as well. The usual chitchat had evaporated the moment the Imaam began to speak. Many women were in tears. Aisha was one, crying, trying not to sob out loud, surruptitiously wiping her eyes on the hem of her abaya. She decided she had to leave right away before she fell apart, and asked Tasnim to tell her husband that she was going home. She managed the drive somehow, not remembering one minute of the road before she pulled up in her driveway. She took the baby from his carseat and ran into the house, put him in his crib, and then collapsed on the floor in front of it, sobbing so hard that she felt she would break apart. She felt that the lecture had been only for her, that the words were directed to her household, and she was afraid her husband would be angry and think she had been gossiping about her situation with her friends. After her tears subsided, she managed to stumble to the bathroom and wash her face. The cold water helped her gather herself. She changed clothes and then picked up the baby, holding him close and promising herself to raise him to be a compassionate man. She stiffened as she heard her husband's car arrive. Not knowing what room to escape to, she simply stood by the baby's crib and held him, waiting for the storm of accusations to rain down on her.

Ahmed entered the house as he had done hours before, uttering a quiet Salaam Alaikum. Aisha heard him this time and returned the salaam just as quietly, fearful. Ahmed didn't stop to take off his shoes or jacket; he came straight up the stairs and walked directly to her, towering over her from his substantial height. Aisha was afraid to look up but hazarded a glance, and she was surprised to see that his eyes were bright with tears and red from crying. He opened his arms to her and grabbed her and the baby up in a fierce embrace, and with his voice cracking from emotion, he whispered "I'm sorry, I'm sorry", again and again. Aisha felt the tension in her bleed out of her body, and she slumped against him, allowing him to enfold her and hold her and comfort her as the tears came yet again. It seemed they stood that way for hours, but of course it was just minutes, and when he finally let them go he held her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, seeing the emotion reflected in them, and the pain.

"I promise, I swear by Allah that I will try to be a better husband to you. You are my heart and you are half my deen. I love you and I respect you so much, and I won't take you for granted again." She could see the sincerity in his eyes and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to Allah for blessing her with a husband who was so strong and good. She knew now that they would be able to renew the bonds they had forged when they first were married, and she could smile through the tears and straighten her spine and know that they could together conquer whatever the world would throw at them. She prayed that the other women would be as blessed as she was by the Imaam's strong reminder, and that the other men would be as strong as her husband and would be able to admit their mistakes. She promised herself she would work even harder to be a strong Muslimah, wife, and mother, and that she would never stop loving this man who stood in front of her. And as if to punctuate the thought, her baby happily threw up on both of them, and all she could do was laugh and rush to change as Ahmed held the baby and looked helplessly at the stream of half-digested milk that decorated his clothing. Life goes on....

Has the Sheep Got Your Goat?

2010-12-02T14:02:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah.

Okay, congratulations. It's been a few weeks since Eid and you've managed to completely block out of your mind the fact that you have an entire sheep in your downstairs deep freeze. You roasted a leg immediately after the slaughter and sauteed the liver and other internal bits in a lot of onion and garlic to share with friends and family, then the next day you ordered pizza and from then on the family has survived on Eid-party leftovers and poultry. Lots of poultry. Last night your husband turned to you and asked the fateful question: "What happened to the sheep?"

You can't explain to your Arab / Indo-Pak / African husband that you are accustomed to your meat coming into the house in small, manageable chunks in tightly-wrapped styrofoam trays, rather than a 30-gallon trash bag. You can't admit to him that you are at a complete loss when it comes to dealing with a hunk of meat the size of your preschooler. You are supposed to be queen of the kitchen, able to whip up dinner for ten last-minute guests in the blink of an eye. "Honey, there are some brothers passing through town on their way to a rugby match. I'll just bring them home and you can feed them, okay? We'll be there in twenty minutes, bye!" So, what the heck are you going to do with this beast that still looks disturbingly like it was before it lost its skin?. And God help you if the head is in the sack there somewhere....

I have found that I have a couple of ways to deal with this. First, I donate as much as I can. When you slaughter your Eid offering, you are supposed to give one third of it to a needy family, and one third as a gift. In theory, this would mean you would have no more than a third of a beast to deal with. In reality, you end up with a meat puzzle of mismatched critters because your friends are all gifting YOU with meat faster than you can give yours away. You can just wait until the orgy of giving dies down and then instruct your husband to donate bags of meat to some single brothers because "they need it more than we do". You can send some to Lady Gaga for her next outfit. Or you can step up to the plate and look that sheep in the eye socket and tell it that it is not going to get the best of you. If you have the courage to take on the challenge, don't despair. I'll walk you through it....

Okay, best case scenario is that you had the beast chopped into manageable pieces after it was slaughtered and then those pieces were bagged separately and then frozen. Yeah, right, I'm laughing, too. I have two huge modern-art pieces masquerading as meat in my freezer because I had divided them up, then my husband UN-divided them to make a "better" division of them for donating. Somehow I came out of this with more meat than I started with. Well, anyway, you'll need to thaw it out somehow. I do the unthinkable and let it thaw at room temperature until it is thawed enough that I can hack or pry pieces off. I keep larger pieces, like the legs, whole for roasting. For the other bits, I find that with sheep or goats there's a really high bone-to-meat ratio and I need a different technique. Enter the stockpot....

In my largest stockpot, I place as much meat as will comfortably fit. I mix everything up, so there will be ribs, backbone, and some more meaty chunks all in the pot. I cover this with water, toss in a couple of onions, several cloves of garlic, a few beef boullion cubes and spices. My spices are salt, pepper, definitely cumin, and oregano, with some Worcestershire sauce tossed in as well. I bring the pot to a boil and use a big spoon to scoop of the layer of scum that will come to the top of the pot in the first half hour of cooking. Then I lower the heat to medium and let the meat cook for a few hours until the meat is falling off the bone. I strain the whole thing into another bowl or pot so I have a big bowl of broth and the strainer full of the solid stuff. Then I let the meat cool and remove all the meat from the bone, keeping the meat and tossing the bones. Or I let my kids play with them.

Now I cook rice using the meat broth. I prefer Golden Carnilla parboiled long grain rice because I don't have to rinse or soak it and it gives me nice consistent results and individual grains that don't glob together. Two cups of rice, four cups of broth, put in pot, boil, turn down heat to medium unitil water is absorbed, turn to low to let it steam out a bit. Then I fluff the rice and add in the meat that I cooked. Sometimes you'll have more meat than you want to stir back in, depending on how meaty the pieces are that you started with. You can save any extra cooked meat and warm it and slather it with BBQ sauce for a great sandwich. Add various side dishes with this and you will have one happy family. And visiting rugby team.

I hope I was able to help you get over your fear of meat that looks like what it used to be, which is sheep. It tastes really, really good, and those nightmares you'll have about an eyeless sheep chasing you across a field will fade over time. Or so I'm told.

Wise Charity

2010-12-01T16:42:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah

I always like to be generous, and even though these are tight financial times I want to help my less fortunate neighbors. There are always donation bins at the grocery store. You can purchase a non-perishable item and toss it in the bin on the way out. The item is then donated to a worthy cause.

I never do that. I'm not stingy, but I found out that if I donate $1 to my local food pantry, it gives them the ability to purchase $8 worth of food and household items to give to the poor. They have more buying power because of their relationships with grocery stores and wholesalers. So why should I donate one can of corn, when by giving the money it would have cost to the food pantry, I can help someone have eight cans of corn?

We have to be smart with our money. Shop around to find the best bargain for clothing, food, housing, cars, all that. And also shop around to find the best charity. May charities have a lot of administrative expenses. A relatively small portion of your donation actually goes to those in need.

The American Institute on Philanthropy has a list of the top-rated charities. Check them out. And look around for local charities. Remember "think globally, act locally"? Look to the people in your neighborhood, in your town, and be a part of your community and help where needed there. That help might be money, or clothes, or time. You don't have to be rich to help those in need.

http://www.charitywatch.org/toprated.html

The Passing of Brother Mokhit Hossein

2010-11-27T11:16:00.000-05:00

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah.

I didn't know Mokhit Hossein. I never met him. I talked to him on the phone a couple of times. Usually I keep it pretty short. No, brother, my husband is not home, let me give you his cell phone number.... But Br. Mokhit was a bit talkative so he would always ask about the family and keep me on the line a couple of minutes. I would hang up the phone with a smile on my face thinking of how he must talk peoples' ears off. Now I'm smiling at the memory but close to tears, because I opened up my Facebook page and saw posted on my wall that he had suddenly passed away last night. Inna lilahi wa inna ilahi rajiuun.

My shock was greater than you might think for someone I didn't know. Though I never met him, I already had an idea of his personality. He had been developing a friendship with my husband since he moved his family to our area a while back. See, Mokhit was no ordinary man. He had been a successful businessman up in D.C., but he gave it all up to move out to the country and raise goats. Yes, goats. He had a small herd on fifty acres, and just yesterday afternoon, after the Friday prayer, he visited my husband at his warehouse to talk business. He had crunched the numbers and was wanting to buy more land and expand. The ideas enthusiastically poured out of him as he talked with my husband. My husband loves this brother, but was on the way to an auction and couldn't stay to talk. He promised they would have to get together soon to talk about business, then he left to go buy and sell. I'm sure Mokhit left him with a smile on his face, too.

After Sherif came home from the auction, we sat and talked. He recounted Mokhit's visit and we laughed about his friend's tendency to keep talking. My husband said he looked so healthy, his hands big and callused from the hard work of raising the goats and running the farm. He was impressed by Mokhit's organizational skills, by the fact that he wasn't just bogging off with no plan to raise goats and live the country life, but rather he was wanting to make it a successful business and had lined up the tools to make it work. He inspired my husband and energized him. He could see that Mokhit loved what he was doing.

So, here we are. We slept with kind thoughts of a kind man and woke to the sad realization that his time on earth was only borrowed and that Allah's Qadr had been fulfilled. My heart breaks for his wife and children, but I am heartened by the fact that he was loved by many and inshAllah they will be assisted through this fierce time of grief. InshAllah I'll do what I can for this man I did not know but whom I love fi sabil Allah because he made my husband smile.