A Child's Prayer

The Messenger of Allah (PBUH) came out to us for one of the two later prayers (dhuhr or asr), carrying Hasan or Hussein. The Prophet (PBUH) then came to the front and put him down (next to his right foot) said takbir for the prayer and commenced praying. During the prayer, he performed a very long prostration, so I raised my head and there was the child, on the back of the Messenger of Allah (PBUH), who was in prostration. I then returned to my prostration. When the Messenger of Allah (PBUH) had offered the prayer, the people said: 'O Messenger of Allah! in the middle of your prayer, you performed prostration and lengthened it so much that we thought either something had happened or that you were receiving revelation!' He said: 'Neither was the case. Actually, my son made me his mount, and I did not want to hurry him until he had satisfied his wish.'" (Reported by Nasaa'i, Ibn Asaakir, and Haakim)

Sujud used to be my favourite position in prayer. I've heard many people say that this is where they feel closest to God. These days, I would definitely agree, but back in the day, I used to love peering between my legs at the person behind me, or if I was at the back, at whoever was playing or coming in. And when one is exhausted, labouring through twenty rakahs of taraweeh, it certainly was the most relaxing position.

I remember quietly racing the imam in the recitations at the beginning of the prayer. No, actually, I used to race him on everything, feeling immensely self-satisfied when I bet him, when there was a significant delay before the next move, like maybe secretly I was better than him.

I used to race everyone else, too, every time we changed positions. First to bow, first to straighten up, first to prostrate, first to sit up. First to finger tap, first to salam. Standing up first was the most fun. I felt so accomplished, when I'd stand up and look at all the other old people slowly get to their feet. Only as a kid did it make sense that coming first in the so-called race of prayers made you somehow first in the sight of Allah (SWT).

I also experimented with the finger tapping, or arranging my feet (together, apart, inverted), or even in the way I positioned myself. Sometimes in rukuh it would be a matter of how low I could bow, or if I could touch my toes. In sujud I'd try to scrunch myself up as small as possible, or flatten myself on the floor. When I was really bad, I'd like to sit like a sphinx, just stick my head up and look around, at everyone else being bottoms up.

Regardless, I did my prayers. I didn't complain. They felt good. Taraweeh especially brings you a sense of peace, I can testify to this then and now. I remember figuring out the imam's routine at my masjid - when he started on surah al-fil (my favourite!), I knew we had reached the middle of the twenty, and all the surahs that followed would be ones that I definitely knew (the first half were always the seemingly never-ending ones). Even without that trademark middle, I used to keep count by drawing lines on the velvet green carpet with my finger. Looking back, I think the other adults were secretly relieved that someone was keeping count, because every now and then they'd look at me and ask for an update. It made me feel important.

Once, during Ramadan, I was praying taraweeh beside a friend at the masjid, when her aunty came in late. My friend looked around while the imam recited on, and watched her aunt hurriedly take off her shoes, drop her bag in a corner, and bustle forward.

"Has taraweeh started?" her aunt whispered loudly, looking at her. I let my chin press against chest and bit my lip. My friend gazed at her aunt.

"Is this 'isha or taraweeh?" her aunt persisted.

My friend continued to look at her. I don't know what her expression was, but I imagine it was something along the lines of blank.

Then the imam said: "allahu akbar", and we all bowed. Her aunt kind of got it then. I had to fight off giggles. We didn't talk about it afterwards, although I'm pretty sure everyone heard this exchange. Never mind all that I was taught in madrasah up until then, it was only on that night I fully appreciated focusing your gaze on the ground while in prayer.

What madrasah really did fuel, though, were my dua. Every time they reinforced that we could ask whatever we wanted and Allah (SWT) would definitely give it to us some day, my daily prayers for the next few days would conclude by me closing my eyes, clasping my hands, and furiously concentrating on asking for a hamster.

I never got the hamster, but hey, I'll gladly take my cat over a hamster any day.

Peace in,
Laila

Ramadan Kareem!

I know this is a bit late, but a combination of illness and ohmyGodtheholidaysareendingandIhavetonnesofhomeworktodo prevented me from writing this. I also was waiting for someone else to write one of these posts, or I donno, something related, but it didn't happen...

Anyway, the point is, to all my Muslim brothers and sisters out there:

... well, I mean, the title said it all.

And to everyone else, well, how are y'all doin'? You know it's much easier to type that than say it. I mean, I just tried saying that, but, erm, it sounds weird. Whatever. It sounds about right in my head.

So for those of you who don't know what Ramadan's all about, I wrote a post about it here, and also, this is one of the first posts of Ghadeer's that I read, and I feel like it just perfectly encapsulates the atmosphere. So now that we're in the spirit, I'ma continue.

I've only been on the blogosphere for two Ramadans, so I don't know if I can actually call this a 'tradition' yet, but both years I set myself a theme. I already had it in mind what I wanted to do this year, but for the aforementioned reason of ohmyGodtheholidaysareendingandIhavetonnesofhomeworktodo, I felt like I couldn't do it because I hadn't done enough research to do this... topic... justice. So insha'allah, I'm saving it for next year.

But I just can't let Ramadan go without Something, you know? So I just decided I'll put up random stuff every week or so. Maybe. I don't know.

Well, whatever, I was just looking for an excuse to share this video:

(OH, um, just in case you get ideas by that title, it's not in any way putting down Jesus or anything. I mean, duh, we believe in him too. Maybe differently, but still with the same respect we give Muhammad (SAW) )

Okay, I confess, I sort'vemaybe am a littlebitinlove with him. His name is Kamal Saleh, and this year he was at the annual Mercy Mission/Al Kauthar conference - this one being 'Twins of Faith'. I, however, knew him from earlier on from this video my older sister's non-Muslm friend showed us - one on love and marriage. I was star-struck then, but even more so when that awful 'Innocence of Muslims' video showed up. If you check out my 'Better View' page (does anyone check that out?), I put his response video up there then. I just love that he has all the right words, all the right knowledge. Me? I was on the verge of posting my own response to that video, but I knew I'd just go insane with rage, and it'd come out a little like this:

... and we had enough crazy Muslims on the loose.

So I let Kamal do his thing and I fell in love with him. The best part, the best part is - I didn't actually go to the Twins of Faith thing, because it was too expensive for us this year, and I didn't volunteer because I thought school would be busy (which it wasn't -_-'). But he was here this year, and my sister got the DVD as a volunteer, and he was just so bashful, in a way, on stage, like, he looked so nervous and gentle and AAAAAGH 

I'MGONNADIE.

Yeah. So now I'm showing you that video, because I think it's just so lovely again, and I wish I could speak so reasonably like that, so eloquently, so knowledgably (that a word?).

Also, I heard this conference (the Mercy Mission/Al Kauthar one - I can never tell which one) touched down in Dubai and Pakistan! You GUYS. Go check it out and when it happens x) If it's the same as the ones here, well, they're superdy awesome.

Just some random scenes from this Ramadan:

Haloomi does her first ever full day fast:
My mother has just come home from work, and we're setting the table for iftar. She's flicking through some letters.
"Ma, Haloomi didn't break her fast," I say.
"Mhm," she says absentmindedly. "It's okay. It's just her first one. She's still little."
"Ma," I say. "She didn't break her fast."
She freezes. Looks up at me slowly. Stares. Gawks.
"Are you sure? Really? Truly? Are you sure she's not lying?" All the words tumble out at once, and I'm all like way to have faith in your kids.
But I'm pleased, because Louise has come over for iftar with her girls, and I can hear my mother speaking proudly, and it makes me proud because these are the things she won't say to our face. For example:
To me: Why don't you ever study? You're so lazy! Do you know soandso's daughter/son wakes up at 7am to study, and doesn't stop studying even past midnight? But look at you, reading, sleeping at 10! Shame, shame, shame!
To her friends: Yeah, my Laila, she's so organised, she always brings home good grades, masha'allah, she wakes up on time, and sleeps on time, and she does all her study within organised times, and she's trying to be healthy too...

So when I hear her bragging, it makes me so happy :)

My mother babys my older cousin, who's like twentysomething:
If there's food on the stove, all cooked, it's just expected that we (my sisters and I) come and serve ourselves and eat up on time. My cousin, on the other hand, has to be told. She needs to wake him up to go to work or uni, but I have to set my own alarm. It's no big deal, but she just treats him like her ickle baby, and I'm like, woman, if you miss babying, have another kid - your nephew is a MAN. Stop spoonfeeding him.
So the other night, she was at work and she was to come home after iftar. She told us to pack some food for my cousin before he went to work. He was all like 'nah, I'll have it when I come back.' I packed it anyway, I put it on the table, I told him to humour me, humour my mother, but he just waved us off. My older sister was like 'what're we going to do? Mother's going to kill us.'
I was like, 'Leave it on the table so she can see that we did our bit.'
So mother comes home, and I point it out, and tell her just that. She stares at it for a moment, then looks at us with disbelief. 
"Are you serious?" she snaps. "That's all you packed him?"

And now I'm going to go and not stay up late reading thus resulting in my waking up late and doing everything late so that homework starts at 4pm and even then I'll be watching Superwoman videos. No, no. That will not happen.

Wishing y'all happy days (Y'ALL. It just sounds so BIZARRE.) and lots of hugs. And patience and yummy food. 

Peace in,
Laila