Falling Out Of Love At This Volume

What is the point of all of it? Your actions are robotic. Monotone. Without soul.

You wish you could be like that person praying next to you in taraweeh who sobs during every prostration. You want to be the one passionately pleading with Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) with humility. Your hope is that you can be that person whose heart is broken before God. You know what, though? You, too, are special to Allah (swt).

You who recites the Qur’an because you know it is good.

You who prays because Allah (swt) commanded you to.

You who attends lectures on Islam because you want to feel closer to Him.

The Prophet ﷺ told us that the person who recites the Qur’an and struggles with the recitation receives twice the reward: for their recitation and for their effort and struggle. He who struggles to be devoted in prayer gets twice the reward: for the parts that he was devoted, and for his struggle to stay focused.

As long as you are trying, Allah (swt) is with you.

The fact that you get up to pray qiyaam (night prayer) even though you feel nothing is appreciated by Allah (swt). When you mouth the words to your du`a even when your heart is numb, Allah (swt) knows how you feel. And you are rewarded for that. Do not think that this will go to waste.

Allah (swt) gets it. Because you are not worshipping a feeling. You do not bow down solely for that ‘high’. You prostrate only to the Lord of the feelings and the One who is the Most High. You submit to Him – through your prayers, fasting and supplication – because you know you have a Merciful, Just, Appreciative, Forgiving God, Who has the power to give life to everything that is dead.

Including your heart.

You know you have a Nurturing, Patient, Generous, Subtle and Kind Lord who can bring back whatever is lost.

He can bring you back.

So to the heart that is numb: Do not give up just yet. Your heart is on a journey. You are first and foremost worshiping your Lord. And He has promised you: “And those who strive for Us – We will surely guide them to Our ways. And indeed, Allah is with the doers of good.” (Qur’an, 29:69)

As long as you are doing good, Allah (swt) will guide you and He is with you. Do you know what that means?

Allah (swt) being with someone means more care, honoring and preference for that person.

And you know what else? Allah loves what you do. He tells us:

“Indeed, those who have believed and done righteous deeds – the Most Merciful will appoint for them affection.” (Qur’an, 19:96)

Allah will not only love you, but He will show that love for you. He will bestow His affection upon you, and your heart will feel it.

So keep trekking. Your heart will open – He is, after all, al-Fattah. Al-Fattah is He who opens whatever is closed; your heart included. You might wonder when and how, but just know that it will happen. It could be on the last night of Ramadan or it could be a month after Ramadan – your heart will open, God willing. The daily exercise you do might not look like much, but you will inevitably see the results if you persevere. Similarly, your good actions slowly chip away at what has been hardening your heart and, eventually, you will feel.

And if it gets too much, just talk to Allah (swt). Tell Him how you feel, and tell Him how you want to feel. Do it every night, and every time you feel empty. God is there; never underestimate your turning to Him. ‘Turning to Him’ does not just mean prayers and supplications; you can just tell Him what is in your heart.

My current job has me working with children, which is kind of a weird shock after years in environments where a “young” patient is 40 years old.  Here’s my impressions so far:

Birth - 1 year: Essentially a small cute animal.  Handle accordingly; gently and affectionately, but relying heavily on the caregivers and with no real expectation of cooperation.

Age 1 - 2: Hates you.  Hates you so much.  You can smile, you can coo, you can attempt to soothe; they hate you anyway, because you’re a stranger and you’re scary and you’re touching them.  There’s no winning this so just get it over with as quickly and non-traumatically as possible.

Age 3 - 5: Nervous around medical things, but possible to soothe.  Easily upset, but also easily distracted from the thing that upset them.  Smartphone cartoons and “who wants a sticker?!!?!?” are key management techniques.

Age 6 - 10: Really cool, actually.  I did not realize kids were this cool.  Around this age they tend to be fairly outgoing, and super curious and eager to learn.  Absolutely do not babytalk; instead, flatter them with how grown-up they are, teach them some Fun Gross Medical Facts, and introduce potentially frightening experiences with “hey, you want to see something really cool?”

Age 11 - 14: Extremely variable.  Can be very childish or very mature, or rapidly switch from one mode to the other.  At this point you can almost treat them as an adult, just… a really sensitive and unpredictable adult.  Do not, under any circumstances, offer stickers.  (But they might grab one out of the bin anyway.)

Gold-digging ant is an animal from Medieval bestiaries. They were dog- or fox-sized ants that dug up gold in sandy areas. Some versions of the Physiologus said they came from Ethiopia, while Herodotus claimed they were located in India.

In Histories (Book 3, passages 102 to 105) Herodotus reports that a species of fox-sized, furry “ants” lives in one of the far eastern, Indian provinces of the Persian Empire. This region, he reports, is a sandy desert, and the sand there contains a wealth of fine gold dust. These giant ants, according to Herodotus, would often unearth the gold dust when digging their mounds and tunnels, and the people living in this province would then collect the precious dust.

French ethnologist Michel Peissel claims that the Himalayan marmot on the Deosai Plateau in Gilgit–Baltistan province of Pakistan, may have been what Herodotus called giant “ants”. Much like the province that Herodotus describes, the ground of the Deosai Plateau is rich in gold dust. Peissel interviewed the Minaro tribal people who live in the Deosai Plateau, and they have confirmed that they have, for generations, collected the gold dust that the marmots bring to the surface when digging burrows. The story was widespread in the ancient world and later authors like Pliny the Elder mentioned it in his gold mining section of the Naturalis Historia.

Herodotus may have confused because he probably did not know any Persian and thus relied on local translators when travelling in the Persian Empire. Herodotus never claimed to have seen the “ant/marmot” creatures, he simply reported what other travelers told him.

I could not bring myself to look him in the eye as I gave him an imperceptible nod yes.

At that moment my sweet, innocent, loving son said, “If they know they might call Donald Trump?”

As my heart shattered into a million pieces I just muttered to him, “No bubby, no one is going to call Donald Trump, it will be fine let’s just not discuss such things in the store, ok?”

This is the fear that the election has instilled in my children, in my family. This is the reality of America, in which my reaction to the store knowing our faith is to frantically shush my child.

But there is something else you should know. This fear is not new. It did not manifest at the end of the election, or upon results being announced.

This fear existed 2 years ago, when I was refused service at a gas station in Southern Georgia, stared at suspiciously as I walked back to my car, afraid. On the drive back home from that trip, I made sure I had a knife. Just in case.

This fear existed 18 months ago, when I went to pick my children up from their Islamic daycare only to find it in flames. The school burned to the ground. I watched it burn, clutching my children and sobbing.

This fear existed a year ago, after the Paris attacks, when I was harassed in stores, when a man in a pick up truck slowed his truck to a crawl to follow me glaring in the dark Target parking lot, as I tried to usher my children to our car. The whole drive home I wondered if I needed to take off my scarf. I convinced myself the backlash would pass quickly.

This fear existed 6 months ago, when Trump secured the Republican nomination, and suddenly my Americanness was called into question. When some of my closest friends began to wonder if their visas would be taken away. When we began to nervously joke amongst ourselves that we could handle internment camps, as long as they don’t take our wifi.

This fear peaked 2 months ago, when 4 of my local mosques caught fire within weeks of one another. This fear was exacerbated by authorities ruling every fire an accident, even those in which racist graffiti was found. This fear was confirmed by the FBI intervening in the investigations. It was in this fear, and the overwhelming evidence that our local authorities had no desire to protect our community, that I took off my scarf. In that moment, I was forced to trade my identity for my security. And my faith in America was traded with it.

I am from a very patriotic family. My great grandfather was a career officer in the US Army. As was my grandfather. My uncle was an SF officer. My father served for 10 years, deploying for the first gulf war weeks after my birth. I enlisted in the US Army when I was 17 years old. My husband traded the first 4 months of his eldest sons life for a tour in Iraq. My family and I have given more to this country than most Americans will ever understand. By choice.