Thursday, December 31, 2009

Home away from home

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,
* * *

There was a time when home was more like a hotel. I'd drop in for some food, sleep, and to change outfits. On the rare weekends I would resign myself to self-imposed exile, it was to synthesize an essay or two from stacks of books.

I was typical of most young students who had yet to move out of the cocoon - for economic, social, or cultural reasons. And that was fine. I had my freedom. Sort of.

"You need to learn to stay at home," my father would mutter, yell or growl, depending on the time of day the comment had risen up. I'd shake a well-coiffed head and head out the door, with a "what for?" trailing behind me.

Ironic twist of fate that a budding career would be voluntarily cut short by marriage and babies. Voluntarily because I wanted to emulate a mother who was always home, always there. After all, it meant that someone valued me and my brothers enough to have a warm plate of food waiting for us when we came home; and valued us enough to be sure that it was a mother's smile that would pick us up after a long day at school.

I taught myself to stay home for several years and it wasn't easy (the Internet kept me busy enough, with work on the side to keep things interesting). And though I'm once again working, my mother's smile must remain on my face when work is done, supper is required, and homework beckons. It's my turn to be the responsible one, the calm one, the one that can do it all.

So it isn't surprising that the home I used to get away from eagerly, is now the one I return to with as much enthusiasm. It is in my childhood home where I truly find solace. While I didn't appreciate it so much back when I was young and free and careless, I am blessed to still have a place where I am coddled and cared for, and can explore being me. Even now, at 31, my dad does all he can to make sure I'm happy - and my whole li'l family, too (thank Goodness I have cute children, albeit messy and noisy ones!)

Anyway, I have to say that you were right, Dad. Staying home isn't so bad. Especially when you are there.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Sickness purifies

In the name of God, the most Merciful, the most Kind,
* * *
When the Prophet Muhammad, may peace be upon him, would see someone ill, he would often greet him with the following words;

“Do not worry. It is a cleansing and purification, if God so wills.” (Saheeh Al-Bukhari)

As I shrink within chilled skin, my body seemingly unattached from a head that pulses when in prostration to the Creator, I know that all I can think of is existence. No desires, no pride, no hope - nothing but existence and ultimately that I exist only because I was Willed to exist.

"Blessed is He in Whose hand is the Sovereignty, and, He is Able to do all things. Who hath created life and death that He may try you, which of you is best in conduct; and He is the Mighty, the Forgiving. [Qur'an 67:1,2 ]

It is in these moments, where energy is collected from recesses unimaginable and I am able to tend to a request from a child that has little thought to what her mother is going through, that one is amazed at the resilience that can exist, despite the battle being waged by invisible collections of microbes and viruses inside.

The determination to fulfill one's duty, when all that beckons is a blanket and mattress and silence, can spur mountains of cold and flu, and yet, when one submits, and lets it go, and sleeps . . .

"In Your name O God, I lay my side and in Your name I raise it. If you keep my soul, give it (Your Loving) Mercy, and if You release it, care for it as You care for Your righteous servants.”