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The Missing Shoe Incident

Story by: Abu Hudhayfah Edwards

Abdur-Rahman had a plan.

Not just any plan. A good plan.

The diaper bag was packed with military precision. Extra diapers. Wipes. Snacks. Emergency snacks. A backup outfit for Qusay and a backup backup outfit, because experience had taught him humility.

The stroller stood ready by the door like a loyal companion.

And today was important.

The brothers were meeting at the Somali tea shop.

Real Somali chai. Strong. Sweet. Comforting. The kind that made conversation stretch longer and laughter come easier. Abdur-Rahman had been thinking about it all morning.

He adjusted his shirt in the hallway mirror.

Clean. Crisp. Coordinated.

He nodded approvingly.

The brothers were definitely going to notice the outfit.

He could already hear it:

“Abudi, looking sharp today!”

He smiled.

Then he reached down for his shoes.

One shoe.

Just one.

He blinked.

He looked again.

Still one shoe.

“Qusay…” he said slowly.

The toddler sat in the stroller, swinging his legs happily.

And in his tiny hand was the missing shoe’s mate.

Abdur-Rahman frowned.

“Where is the other one?”

Qusay grinned.

That grin meant trouble.

The search began in the mud room.

Abdur-Rahman checked under coats, behind boots, inside random boxes that no one remembered owning.

Nothing.

He crawled halfway into a basket of scarves.

Dust flew.

POOF!

No shoe.

Qusay watched silently, chewing on the laces of the shoe he did have like a trophy.

Next stop: the garage.

Abdur-Rahman pushed open the door and stared into the cluttered wilderness.

Tools. Storage bins. Old soccer balls. A mysterious exercise bike nobody used.

He crouched down.

“Maybe it got kicked out here.”

He searched under the workbench.

BANG!

His head hit the underside.

“Subhan’Allaah…” he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

Still no shoe.

Qusay clapped.

Abdur-Rahman squinted toward the crawl space.

He froze.

The crawl space was dark.

The crawl space was dusty.

The crawl space belonged to spiders.

He looked at Qusay.

Qusay looked back with innocent eyes.

Abdur-Rahman sighed.

“For Somali chai,” he whispered to himself.

He grabbed a flashlight and crouched low.

The moment he opened the hatch, a web brushed his face.

“ AH! La hawla wala quwwata illa billaah! ”

He stumbled backward.

Qusay laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the stroller.

Abdur-Rahman glared at him.

“You think this is funny?”

More laughter.

Inside the crawl space, every shadow looked suspicious.

Boxes leaned at strange angles. Something skittered in the corner.

He whispered extra dhikr.

The flashlight shook slightly.

He checked every corner.

No shoe.

He backed out quickly, brushing invisible spiders off his shoulders.

Qusay offered him the one shoe in encouragement.

Now there was only one place left.

The attic.

Abdur-Rahman stared at the ceiling hatch like it was a test of character.

The attic was not part of his normal routine.

The attic contained memories, old furniture, and sounds that never had proper explanations.

He looked at Qusay.

Qusay stared up expectantly.

Abdur-Rahman raised his hands.

“ La ilaaha illa Allaah, Ya Allaah… protect me from whatever is up there.”

He climbed.

The attic creaked with every step.

Dust floated in the air.

A box shifted somewhere.

Abdur-Rahman froze.

“Probably nothing,” he whispered.

He searched carefully.

Old baby clothes.

Holiday decorations.

A broken lamp.

No shoe.

A sudden noise behind him made him jump.

THUMP!

He spun around, in a loud, frightened voice, saying, “ Allaahu Akbar! “

Nothing.

He decided the search was officially over.

Back downstairs, he dropped onto the couch, defeated.

Qusay bounced happily in the stroller.

Abdur-Rahman looked at the clock.

The brothers were probably already sipping chai.

Real chai.

Not the watered-down imitation he sometimes made at home.

He sighed deeply.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll go with different shoes.”

He stood up and walked toward the door.

Then stopped.

His eyes narrowed.

There, sitting perfectly neat on the shoe rack.

Both shoes.

Side by side.

Clean.

Aligned.

Waiting.

Abdur-Rahman stared.

He turned slowly toward Qusay.

The toddler looked away suspiciously.

“Qusay…”

Qusay giggled.

Abdur-Rahman rubbed his face.

“You hid them.”

Giggles.

“You watched me search the whole house.”

More giggles.

Abdur-Rahman shook his head slowly.

“This is psychological warfare.”

He slipped on the shoes, grabbed the diaper bag, and wheeled Qusay toward the door.

As they stepped outside, he sighed dramatically.

“You know what’s going to happen now?”

Qusay babbled happily.

“We’re late. The brothers will already be done with Somali chai.”

He pushed the stroller down the walkway.

“Now I’ll have to drink Virginian chai.”

He shuddered.

“That’s basically tea pretending to be tea.”

Qusay laughed as if agreeing.

When they finally arrived, the brothers greeted him warmly.

“Abudi! You made it!”

One of them nodded at his outfit.

“Looking sharp today.”

Abdur-Rahman straightened proudly.

Then he looked down at Qusay, who smiled with absolute innocence.

The brothers leaned over the stroller.

“He’s so calm today,” one said.

Abdur-Rahman nearly laughed.

“You have no idea.”

As the first sip of chai warmed his chest, Abdur-Rahman relaxed.

Qusay reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

Abdur-Rahman looked down.

The toddler smiled again.

That same mischievous smile.

The one that said:

This round goes to me, the undisputed and still undefeated.

Abdur-Rahman shook his head and smiled.

Story by: Abu Hudhayfah Edwards

Hurayrah stretched across the wooden porch as if he had melted into the warm boards beneath him. The shade from the overhanging roof protected him from the afternoon sun, and the gentle breeze carried the smells of grass, dust, and distant birds across the yard.

It was a peaceful place to rest.

His long, grey, and white fur rose and fell slowly with each breath. One golden eye opened halfway, watching a drifting leaf tumble across the yard. Hurayrah considered chasing it, but the effort seemed unnecessary.

Then he heard them.

Footsteps.

The unmistakable sound of human children approaching.

Hurayrah sighed in the silent way cats do.

The children rounded the corner of the porch, their voices full of excitement.

“There he is!”

“Hurayrah!”

Hurayrah lifted his head slightly. His ears rotated toward them like two careful antennae, measuring their distance and mood.

The children crouched down, smiling widely, waiting.

Hurayrah knew what they expected.

He opened his mouth and released a soft sound.

“Meow.”

It was not a sound he enjoyed making.

Meowing, after all, could be exhausting.

Hurayrah did not meow to other cats. In fact, he did not meow at animals at all. Birds, dogs, squirrels, raccoons, none of them required such a strange form of communication.

Meowing was something Hurayrah did only for the humans in his life.

It was a language reserved entirely for them.

Among other felines, things were far simpler.

Hurayrah’s love language was body language and scent markings. His tail position alone could tell another cat everything they needed to know. A slow flick meant curiosity. A confident upright tail meant greeting. A puffed tail meant business.

No unnecessary sounds.

Just understanding.

But the humans?

They never seemed to understand.

No matter how clearly Hurayrah tried to communicate through posture, blinking, or gentle movements, the humans always seemed confused.

So Hurayrah meowed.

Mostly to keep the peace.

Now, in moments of tension with other animals, Hurayrah did make noise. But those sounds were very different.

A hiss.

A low growl.

Those were not friendly sounds. They were warnings. Signs of fear, anger, or territorial disputes.

Serious matters.

But everyday communication?

Hurayrah preferred silence.

For him, non-verbal communication was like Sakeena: quiet, calm, peaceful.

Noise simply for the sake of noise made no sense to him.

The children reached down to pet him. Hurayrah responded with a slow blink, his eyes closing halfway before opening again.

To a cat, this was a beautiful gesture.

A slow blink meant trust.

Peace.

“I am comfortable with you.”

Then Hurayrah rolled onto his back, exposing his fluffy belly and underside to the sky.

For a cat, this was a powerful statement.

It meant complete relaxation.

Complete safety.

Complete trust.

The children laughed and rubbed his soft belly, delighted.

Hurayrah accepted their affection with patience.

Still, there were certain things about humans he could never quite understand.

For example, rubbing.

When cats rubbed against one another, it was the sweetest of greetings. It was like a hug, a way of mixing scents and saying, You belong with me.

Hurayrah rubbed against his humans often.

Their legs.

Their arms.

Sometimes their faces.

But strangely, the humans never knelt down and rubbed their faces against him in return.

It was a mystery that deeply puzzled him.

Hurayrah loved his humans.

But he believed they talked far too much.

Even now, the children were chatting endlessly above him.

Words and laughter spilled into the air like a waterfall.

Hurayrah tilted his head slightly.

How could they ever find prey if they were always announcing their location to the entire world?

Predators could hear them from far away.

Even a slow mouse would escape such noisy hunters.

Hurayrah preferred the wisdom of quiet.

During the day, he rested, conserving energy. He allowed the warm sunlight to charge his muscles like a battery.

Because the true work happened at night.

When darkness covered the world like a protective blanket, Hurayrah prowled.

The cool night air sharpened every scent.

Every sound.

Every movement.

That was the time for hunting.

The time for patience.

The time for excellence.

His humans, however, had very strange habits.

They spent the entire day talking and moving around under the blazing sun. Then, just as the night became perfect for hunting, they all went inside and slept.

Hurayrah often wondered why.

Did they not care about the hunt?

Did they not understand the beauty of the quiet night?

Still, Hurayrah did not complain.

When his humans slept, the house finally became peaceful.

It gave him time to roam alone through the yard, across the fence, and through the fields beyond.

Those quiet hours belonged to him.

His only complaint was when they interrupted his rest.

Sometimes they would wake him simply to watch him eat from his bowl.

Or drink water.

Hurayrah found this behavior especially confusing.

The water they gave him was always still.

Stagnant.

Unmoving.

Before drinking, Hurayrah always dipped his paw gently into the bowl, stirring the surface.

Moving water was safer.

Cleaner.

More trustworthy.

But the humans never seemed to understand the lesson.

They simply refilled the bowl with more unmoving water.

Hurayrah sighed softly and flicked his tail.

Still, he remained optimistic.

Humans were slow learners, but they meant well.

Perhaps one day they would improve.

Perhaps one day they would understand the language of silence, the wisdom of night, and the art of patience.

Perhaps one day they might even catch their own fresh food instead of opening that large metal box in the kitchen.

Until then, Hurayrah would remain patient.

The Moroccan Slave Who May Have Been America’s First Muslim Explorer

By the time most Americans learn about the “exploration” of North America, the story usually sounds familiar.

European ships.

Spanish armor.

Christian missionaries.

Conquistadors planting flags into unknown soil.

But hidden inside one of the earliest recorded survival stories in American history is a nearly forgotten figure whose life complicates that entire narrative.

He was Black.

He was Moroccan.

He likely spoke Arabic.

And according to many historians, he may have been among the earliest Muslims ever documented traveling across what would become the United States.

His name was Mustafa Azemmouri, though history remembers him more commonly as Estevanico.

And nearly 500 years ago, he walked across North America long before the Pilgrims ever landed at Plymouth Rock.

From Morocco to the New World

Estevanico was born around 1500 in the Moroccan port city of Azemmour, then part of the Muslim world of North Africa. Historians believe he was likely raised as a Muslim before eventually being enslaved amid Portuguese expansion along the Atlantic coast.

According to historians and Spanish colonial records, he was sold into slavery and eventually brought into the service of Spanish nobleman Andrés Dorantes de Carranza.

Then came the disastrous Narváez expedition.

In 1527, Spanish explorer Pánfilo de Narváez launched a massive expedition intended to claim and colonize lands in Florida and the Gulf Coast region for Spain. The mission quickly descended into catastrophe.

Storms wrecked ships.

Disease spread.

Supplies disappeared.

Men starved.

Many drowned.

By 1528, the expedition had collapsed almost entirely along the Gulf Coast near present-day Texas.

Only four survivors ultimately remained alive.

One of them was Estevanico.

According to Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca’s famous chronicle La Relación, the survivors spent years traveling across enormous stretches of North America while attempting to reach Spanish territory in Mexico.

Those journeys likely carried them through parts of present-day Florida, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, and northern Mexico.

That means a Moroccan man from the Muslim world may have traversed the American Southwest decades before some of the most famous European explorers arrived there.

A Muslim Presence in Early America?

This is where the story becomes historically delicate.

Modern internet retellings often dramatically overstate the claim, declaring that “Islam arrived in America in 1528” or calling Estevanico “the first Muslim in America.”

Professional historians are more cautious.

What can be reasonably established is this:

Estevanico was born in Morocco during a period when Islam shaped the overwhelming religious and cultural life of the region.

Spanish records reportedly described him as a “negro alárabe,” commonly interpreted by scholars as meaning an Arabic-speaking Black man.

But there is an important distinction between Muslim origin and confirmed religious practice.

Like many enslaved people under Spanish rule, Estevanico was likely baptized into Christianity after enslavement. Historians cannot definitively prove whether he privately retained Islamic beliefs, openly practiced Islam, or continued identifying as Muslim during his travels in North America.

Still, scholars say his existence challenges simplified assumptions about early American history.

Long before Ellis Island.

Long before the United States existed.

Long before modern debates over immigration and religion.

A man connected to the Muslim world was already moving through the deserts, coastlines, and indigenous communities of North America.

More Than a Side Character

For years, Estevanico was treated as a footnote in larger Spanish exploration narratives.

But modern historians increasingly view him as one of the most remarkable figures of the entire expedition.

Accounts suggest he developed communication skills with indigenous tribes, acted as a guide and translator, and became essential to the survival of the remaining travelers.

Some reports even describe indigenous communities recognizing him before the others because of his reputation.

In some ways, Estevanico represents a forgotten category of early American history entirely:

Muslim-adjacent.

African.

Enslaved.

Multilingual.

Mobile.

Neither conqueror nor settler in the traditional sense.

But undeniably present.

The America That Existed Before the Myth

The deeper significance of Estevanico’s story may not be whether he prayed toward Makkah in the deserts of Texas.

It may be the reminder that America’s earliest recorded history was already far more diverse than many modern people imagine.

The continent Europeans encountered was not shaped by one civilization meeting empty land.

It was a complex world of indigenous nations, African travelers, enslaved laborers, translators, sailors, interpreters, Muslims, Christians, and people moving between identities under extraordinary circumstances.

Estevanico’s story survives because Spanish chroniclers wrote about him.

But historians suspect many other African and Muslim figures passed through the early Atlantic world without ever entering official records.

Which means the Moroccan survivor from Azemmour may not have been alone.

Just remembered.

Sources:

* Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, La Relación

* Encyclopaedia Britannica – Estevanico

* Texas State Historical Association – Estevanico

* PBS – Estevanico Biography Overview

From Newspapers to Tumblr: An Old Publishing Strategy Finds New Life Online

RICHMOND, Va. - Long before social media, blogs, and online bookstores, some of the world’s most famous authors built their audiences one installment at a time.

Writers such as Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, and Arthur Conan Doyle understood a simple truth: readers are more likely to buy books from authors they already know.

Today, that centuries-old publishing strategy is finding new life on platforms like Tumblr, Facebook, LinkedIn, YouTube Posts, and personal websites.

In the 1800s, readers eagerly awaited the next issue of a newspaper or literary magazine to continue following their favorite characters. Charles Dickens famously released many of his novels in installments before they were published as complete books. Arthur Conan Doyle introduced Sherlock Holmes through magazine stories that were later collected into bestselling volumes.

The method was simple.

Build readers first. Package later.

Modern independent authors are increasingly applying the same approach online.

Instead of newspapers, they use social media platforms. Instead of waiting for the next weekly journal, readers return for the next post, chapter, or update.

For authors operating outside of traditional publishing houses, serialization offers several advantages. It allows writers to build an audience, test story concepts, and create anticipation before investing in book production and marketing.

A reader who follows a story for months often develops a connection to the characters long before a book is released.

That connection can become a powerful asset.

When a collected edition eventually appears on Amazon or Barnes & Noble, readers are not purchasing an unknown title. They are returning to characters they have already come to know.

The strategy has modern success stories as well.

Author Hugh Howey initially released portions of his dystopian series Wool before compiling the work into novels. Andy Weir famously published chapters of The Martian online before the story became a bestselling novel and major motion picture.

For independent publishers, serialization also transforms existing content into a long-term marketing asset.

One completed manuscript can become months of scheduled content, generating engagement across multiple platforms before ultimately being compiled into a paperback, hardcover, or eBook.

Industry observers note that the model mirrors the historical role newspapers once played in literary culture.

The newspaper stand of the nineteenth century may have disappeared, but its digital equivalent remains very much alive.

Today, that newspaper stand may simply be a Tumblr dashboard, a Facebook feed, a YouTube Post, or a LinkedIn timeline.

The technology has changed.

The strategy has not.

One contemporary example is author Abu Hudhayfah Edwards, who publishes serialized fiction and historical narratives through YouTube Posts and Tumblr before compiling many of those works into books. Stories such as After Wards, The Story of San Juan Hill, Before London… There was Brooklyn, and other Trade Winds titles demonstrate how independent writers can use modern platforms to cultivate a readership one chapter at a time.

Rather than viewing social media and publishing as separate activities, many authors now see them as complementary parts of the same process. Readers discover a story online, follow it as it unfolds, and later support the completed work in book form.

For readers, this offers something increasingly rare in an age of endless scrolling: anticipation.

The opportunity to return next week and see what happens next.

For writers, it offers a reminder that building an audience does not always require reinventing the wheel. Sometimes the best innovations are simply old ideas adapted to new technology.

Whether through Tumblr, YouTube Posts, personal blogs, or emerging digital platforms, serialized storytelling remains alive and well.

Readers interested in discovering new voices may wish to follow independent writers such as Abu Hudhayfah Edwards and many others who are continuing a tradition that stretches back more than a century.

The platforms may be different.

The readers may be different.

The Wood Wide Web: Signs Beneath Our Feet

There are forests that seem quiet.

You walk through them and hear only the wind brushing against leaves, the soft crack of twigs beneath your feet, and perhaps the distant call of a bird. Everything appears still, separate, and independent.

But beneath that silence, there is movement.

Beneath that stillness, there is connection.

Hidden in the soil is a vast network, one that scientists today call the Wood Wide Web. It is a system where trees are linked together through fine strands of fungi, exchanging nutrients, signals, and support.

For many, this discovery is surprising.

For the believer, it is something more.

It is a sign.

🌱 A World Beneath the Surface

Beneath every forest floor, there are tiny threads called mycelium. These threads belong to fungi that live in partnership with trees.

The trees provide sugars, produced from sunlight.

The fungi provide water and nutrients, drawn from the soil.

But it does not stop there.

These fungal threads connect one tree to another.

Through them, resources can move.

A tree in sunlight may support one in shade. A tree under stress may send signals that alert others. A forest, in this way, behaves not like isolated individuals, but like a community.

This is not imagination. It is something observed, measured, and studied.

And yet, even with all our instruments and research, what we understand is still only a glimpse.

🌿 Who Designed This?

Pause for a moment.

Think about what is happening here.

Trees, rooted in place, unable to walk or speak, are still part of a system that allows them to respond, share, and survive together.

Fungi, unseen and often overlooked, act as connectors, bridging distances in the dark soil.

There is balance.

There is purpose.

There is precision.

And none of it came from trial and error on the part of the creation itself.

The trees did not experiment their way into this system.

The fungi did not study engineering to build these pathways.

This system was brought into existence fully formed, functioning, and purposeful.

It is from the design of Al-Khaliq, the Creator.

The One Who creates without needing a model.

The One Who brings into existence without imitation.

The One Who does not learn, revise, or improve, because His creation is already placed with wisdom.

🌌 Creation Without Example

Human beings create by observing.

We take apart what exists, we study it, we imitate it, and then we try to improve it.

A builder studies other buildings.

An engineer studies machines.

A writer studies stories.

Everything we make is built on something that came before.

But Al-Khaliq is not like that.

He does not look at something and then decide how to recreate it.

He does not need inspiration.

He does not need time to figure things out.

He says, “Be,” and it is.

The Wood Wide Web is one example among countless signs of this reality.

A hidden system, unknown to humanity for most of its history, yet functioning perfectly long before it was ever discovered.

🌳 Perfection in the Unseen

We often judge the world by what we can see.

Tall trees.

Green leaves.

Flowing rivers.

But much of creation’s perfection is hidden.

Roots stretch quietly beneath the soil.

Fungi weave connections in darkness.

Water travels where eyes cannot follow.

And yet, everything is in its place.

Nothing collides in chaos.

Nothing forgets its role.

This hidden order reminds us that not all reality is visible, and not all wisdom is immediately understood.

Just as the forest has unseen systems supporting it, our lives too are upheld by things we may never fully perceive.

🌿 Lessons for the Heart and Soul

The Wood Wide Web is not only a scientific discovery. It is also a reflection.

It teaches us:

• That strength is not always loud

• That connection can exist even when unseen

• That support may come from places we do not expect

• That what appears silent may be full of meaning

A forest thrives not because each tree stands alone, but because it exists within a system designed with care.

And the same Creator who designed that system is the One Who created us.

✨ How Perfect is He

When we reflect on something like the Wood Wide Web, we are not just learning about trees.

We are being invited to think deeper.

Who created this system?

Who gave it balance?

Who ensured that it would function across generations, climates, and landscapes?

It is Al-Khaliq.

Perfect in His Creation.

Perfect in His Wisdom.

Perfect in His Power.

He creates without effort.

He sustains without fatigue.

He governs without error.

Nothing in the heavens or the earth escapes His Knowledge.

Not the tallest tree.

Not the smallest root.

Not even the thin thread of fungi stretching quietly beneath the soil.

🌍 A Sign Among Many

The Wood Wide Web is only one sign.

There are others all around us.

In the sky.

In the ocean.

In the human body.

In the passing of time.

Each one points to the same truth:

That this world is not random.

That it is not self-made.

That it is not without purpose.

It is created.

And the One who created it is greater than anything within it.

🌱 A Final Reflection

The next time you walk through a forest, pause.

Look at the trees.

Feel the stillness.

And then remember:

Beneath your feet, there is a world alive with connection.

A system working without noise, without attention, without recognition.

A system that existed long before you knew it, and will continue long after.

And let that remind you:

If such complexity exists in what we cannot see, then how much greater is the One Who created it?

How perfect is Al-Khaliq.

The Creator of all things.

The One Who brings into existence without example.

The One Whose Wisdom is beyond measure.

And the One Whose signs are everywhere, for those willing to reflect.

Significance: This highlights Allah's omnipotence and that nothing is impossible for Him.

The Arabic Phrase: Kun (كن) means "Be" (the imperative verb), and Fa-yakūn (فَيَكُونُ) means "and it is" or "and it becomes".

Surah Yaseen 36:82: "His command is only when He intends a thing that He says to it, 'Be,' and it is".

Context: It appears in passages discussing creation (e.g., of Jesus the son of Mary in 3:47, 3:59) and the resurrection.

Most people move through life effortlessly recognizing parents, children, friends, neighbors, classmates, spouses, and strangers within moments.

A glance across a crowded parking lot.

A familiar face entering the masjid.

A child spotting their mother instantly among hundreds of people.

Yet few pause to consider that this ability itself is an immense favor from Allaah.

Neurologists refer to the human ability to recognize faces as facial recognition processing or face perception. The human brain possesses a remarkable ability to distinguish subtle differences in nose structure, eye placement, jaw shape, skin tone, facial proportions, and expressions with astonishing speed and accuracy.

We do this constantly.

Effortlessly.

Without thought.

But not everyone experiences the world this way.

Prosopagnosia, commonly called face blindness, is a neurological condition that affects a person’s ability to recognize faces. Some individuals struggle to identify coworkers or neighbors. Others may fail to recognize close relatives, lifelong friends, or even their own reflection under certain circumstances.

Face blindness does not diminish the dignity of those afflicted by it. Rather, it serves as a reminder to the rest of humanity that even the abilities we consider ordinary are extraordinary mercies when they are absent.

Many human beings can instantly distinguish one person from another in large gatherings. Yet those same people may struggle to identify one pigeon from another, one ant from another, or one dolphin from another. To us, many creatures appear visually repetitive.

But within their own species, distinction exists.

A mother bird recognizes her offspring.

Orcas identify members of their pod.

Ant colonies distinguish intruders from their own.

The Creator gave every living thing capacities suited to its reality.

Human beings were given the remarkable ability to recognize one another through facial distinction, memory, and familiarity. This recognition allows families to form bonds, communities to function, friendships to deepen, and societies to exist with trust and accountability.

Allaah says:

“And the earth He laid out for all beings.”

(55:10)

وَٱلْأَرْضَ وَضَعَهَا لِلْأَنَامِ

Then repeatedly throughout the same chapter comes the question:

“Then which of your Lord’s favors will you both deny?”

(55:13)

فَبِأَىِّ ءَالَآءِ رَبِّكُمَا تُكَذِّبَانِ

Perhaps among those favors is this quiet ability most people rarely stop to notice: the ability to recognize one another.

To know the face of a mother.

To distinguish one child from another.

To identify a friend from afar before a single word is spoken.

To recognize emotion before language.

To detect grief, joy, exhaustion, sincerity, age, fear, and affection within moments through facial expression alone.

Modern neuroscience continues uncovering the sophistication of the human brain’s facial recognition systems. Researchers have identified regions such as the Fusiform Face Area that help humans process and distinguish faces rapidly. But while science may describe mechanisms, it cannot fully measure the social, emotional, and spiritual significance carried within the human face itself.

The human face carries memory.

Identity.

Lineage.

Belonging.

History.

Aging.

Mercy.

Responsibility.

And Allaah says:

“O humanity! Indeed, We created you from a male and a female, and made you into peoples and tribes so that you may know one another. Surely the most noble of you in the sight of Allaah is the most righteous among you.”

(49:13)

يَـٰٓأَيُّهَا ٱلنَّاسُ إِنَّا خَلَقْنَـٰكُم مِّن ذَكَرٍۢ وَأُنثَىٰ وَجَعَلْنَـٰكُمْ شُعُوبًۭا وَقَبَآئِلَ لِتَعَارَفُوٓا۟ ۚ إِنَّ أَكْرَمَكُمْ عِندَ ٱللَّهِ أَتْقَىٰكُمْ

Human diversity was not created without purpose.

Difference itself serves recognition.

Recognition serves relationships.

Relationships serve communities.

And communities allow humanity to come together, know one another, cooperate, marry, raise children, preserve family ties, show mercy, and build civilizations.

Perhaps that is why conditions like Prosopagnosia quietly remind the rest of humanity not to take ordinary mercies for granted.

The ability to recognize a father’s face in old age.

To distinguish loved ones in a crowd.

To remember faces connected to laughter, sacrifice, grief, patience, and love.

These are not small things.

They are among the subtle favors through which human beings come together and know one another.

And ultimately, all of humanity returns to the same origin.

Allaah says:

“O humanity! Be mindful of your Lord Who created you from a single soul, and from it He created its mate, and through both He spread countless men and women. And be mindful of Allaah, in Whose Name you appeal to one another, and honor family ties. Surely Allaah is ever Watchful over you.”

(4:1)