I could use a dream or a genie or a wish...

Sometimes, I come here just to remember who I used to be. I'm kind of 'in between me's', just a small town girl living in a lonely world. The problem is I missed the midnight train going anywhere. So until I find my metaphorical boarding pass, I'm just living on a prayer. But, enough about me. There are 1440 minutes so how are you today?

Opportunities Don't Come With Their Values Stamped Upon Them. But, Neither Does Ramadan.

You probably already guessed what this post was about, even before even clicking it in your reader/twitter/blogroll etc. I also assume you are expecting the usual farewell opportunities aplenty impending Eid post. But, not this year. This year is about actual change, not the 'I'm so hungry so this fast must be working sort-of change.' No, no, real spiritual change. Now, I'm by no means an Imam, Sheikha, or scholar but, I would like to consider myself Islamically intelligent enough to make at least one prayer an actuality year-round. And that prayer is "thanks". It might sound simple and perhaps irrelevant but, if all I had was one prayer for the rest of my life, thanks would be enough.


You don't have to use my prayer/du'aa or take my advice. But, all I'm saying is God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say "thank you?"

"May Allah swt accept all of our fasts, good deeds and give us the opportunity to see the blessed month of Ramadan next year again, Ameen."

Some Things Have To Be Believed To Be Seen- The Not So Ramadan, Ramadan Post

Confession of The Month:

Few really believe. The most only believe that they believe or even make believe. And I was among those who believed in belief as opposed to just believing. So here I was coming off of a summer vacation turned burden, ending with more issues than I began, and a steadily declining faith in everything, even myself.

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For those of you waiting in anticipation for my less than desirable reasoning as to the long gaps in posting here it is: life. I know, shocker but life happens. Between dealing with new personal commitments, anxiety/stress disorders, and a developing eating disorder, sometimes blogging is the last thing I have the energy to worry about. But, none of that is what this post is about. This post is about updating and optimism despite the personal struggles within.

Way back when I still believed that hearts are magnets and people cared about other people I also believed in me. But, lately belief, like my self-confidence, is ever fleeting and far too determinant upon others for survival. And there lies the problem. In my final bow to summer I accepted a position as a counselor at a camp designed for Muslim youth. So many times before I had been the camper, the dependent, the follower. I was secure in that role, having little responsibility with much freedom. But, this time was different. I was surrounded with girls ranging in age from 10-12, all looking towards me for guidance. But, how could I be their guide, their leader, their role model? How could I be everything they wanted, when there wasn't enough of me for what I needed? They'd call me pretty, or hot, smart and funny. But, all of it made me want to cry, at best. And then it was time to swim. The boys were sent off to archery, as the remaining camp of girls donned their swim attire. Some were dressed more freely than others but, all of them were gorgeous. All of them but, one.

I was that one. But, not because I didn't have the potential the others did...rather because I didn't allow that potential to escape. I created excuses at meal times, and acted as though I didn't hear compliments, I would sleep with my journal, terrified of writing what I truly felt. A friend of mine would text occasionally trying to convince me that he would love me, if I let him. And it was then that I realized I could love me too, if I let me.

Often I would make the girls go to bed early because I didn't want to face me while I was awake. When it came time for prayers I would wait till they slept and pray separately, afraid of the power of prayers, knowing I might have to face myself. Finally, I was discovered. One of the younger girls woke up and sat there so still watching me in the night, terrified of praying, terrified of eating, terrified of being. And so she climbed down off the top bunk and sat near me. For minutes, time stood still. Then she spoke, "it didn't promise to be easy..." Shocked at the words I asked, "what, what didn't promise to be easy?" "Life," she says. Life never promised to be easy. I sat thinking, wondering, how she knew that I stopped believing in the life I was creating. She admitted to reading parts of my journal, I had forgotten I jokingly said she could. She also admitted that she liked it, she liked feeling like she was "important." Important, I asked her, what gave her that notion that when I felt like I was failing at everything I was becoming, that of all things I was important. "Because, because at least your something."

Her words hit like daggers, piercing my heart, forcing me to consider that even at my very worst I was someones very best. There's far more to the story. It involves writing love notes in the rain, dancing when no one's watching, and crying while praying. But, Brianna's words are more important that any of those.I have to believe in my own ability to trust in God's ability to help me overcome the personal tribulations which threaten my very existence.

And then came Ramadan.Ramadan is the month of fasting, which is observed by Muslims worldwide, in the 9th month of the Islamic calender. It's among one of the holiest and most spiritually profound within the Islamic culture, as Muslims believe it is the time in which the prophet received revelation of the Quran from God. Ramadan is an opportunity never to be wasted. Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing that we see too late the one that is open.

"Verily, Allah does not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves."

[Ar-Ra`d, 11]

So my Ramadan resolution is simple: Create a month worthy of repetition. I can not change everything that I am in one month but, He can. And so,I ask God/Allah not for a lighter burden, but for broader shoulders.

The Girl Is Miserable At Best...

"Sometimes it takes but, a glance."

Slowly we drove down the winding dirt road into yet another field. For the past 12 miles we have witnessed all of 5 houses and 3 farms. The last sign of civilization and society past the 21st century was the local Wal-Mart about 8 miles back. The stomach pain shoot deep into my back. I'm fasting, I'm sleepy, I'm not ready for this. I walk into the small elementary school taking in one slow deep breathe at a time. I know they've never seen one of me before.

Let's not pretend like in this Midwest Podunk town that any of these people are expecting me. I am their student teacher; this is my first day.

There are plants growing in the classroom. No, not plants in a pot. Plants growing from the floor. Second grade is taught in a trailer about 20 ft from the front of the school. The school is a one story building of resentment. Today must be everything I prayed against. What can they teach me?

Suddenly a bright eyed girl with a black hoodie on gleamed up at me "You're beautiful", she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, what?" I asked her. I was in no mood for whatever games these children intended on pulling. Sarcasm isn't appreciated especially not while I'm fasting. It's Ramadan so I lower my gaze and practice some much needed patience. "You're so beautiful and I like that", she insisted. Then, I notice she's glaring at my hijab and pointing at my face.It took me about 2 1/2 hrs with 2 subject changes to calm down. I started to accept the beauty in this run down location. They are content in it all. In a way it was inspiring.

For the remainder of my time at the school I tried avoiding the students who asked unintentionally hurtful comments and the girl in the black hoodie. The last hour before I left the teacher of the class pulled me aside to let me know that her class was ‘special.’ Many of the students were struggling if not internally then externally, if not emotionally then physically, if not academically then medically. Then she mentioned the girl in the black hoodie. The teacher noticed I had been avoiding her and said I ‘need’nt be afraid.” I asked myself why she would think I feared this odd child and her fascination with my scarf. Then it occurred to me that people only fear what they do not understand.

I decided to put my ‘fears’ aside and speak with the girl. "It’s just you are beautiful. Your thingy makes you pretty. I wish I had one too, then I could pretty." All the puzzle pieces began to come together. The girl wasn’t mocking my religion but, trying to identify with it. And, while I was so sure that she was afraid of me I came to realize the roles were reversed. My 'thingy' makes me prettier? I blush. Half of it is due to embarrassment. For the first time since I stepped into this school I now looked into her deep blue eyes to see oceans of sincerity. Half of it is due to my obvious sense of shame. I glared at these kids blaming them for the schools obvious lack of financial support. I tested their intentions, ignoring genuine comments because I 'knew' they would discriminate. I built a wall before they had a chance to offer help.

My 'thingy' does make me beautiful. It makes me different. It makes others judge me based on my insides as opposed to assuming things based on my outside. It provides me with an opportunity. It is the very opportunity I took from each of the 27 unsuspecting students.

What can they teach me?
It was only my first day and yet I think I learned more in 7 hrs than in 7 yrs.

Yours Is The First Face I've Ever Seen. I Must've Been Blind Before Thee....

Eid Mubarak!

Gag me with a shoe....Why dot Muslim women seem to think they know whats better for you than you do for yourself? Apparently Ramadan ending+ Me in heels= Halal hookup at Eid salaht. I mean we only just exited a month of purifying intentions and checking motives.What offended me most was not my khalto's* offer to 'introduce' me to her nephew. What offended me most is that she said I was 'good enough for him'. Thank you? Uh, sorry but since when did love come with a package of terms and conditions? More importantly when did I waiver away my rights? Maybe when I was way younger I didn't read the fine print my parents forever warned against and now must suffer my eternal fate.

Maybe.

Height,weight, color/race,religion, account balance, location, age, siblings, lifestyle. So many factors, so little time. I'm no Bella Swan, I need a commitment. One thing I AM sure of about my future husband (if any at all) is that he will be mine, and I will love him like the world is ending. I refuse to allow her simple factors and preferences to dominate my life. So as she moves to smile and peck a kiss on each of my perfectly blushed cheeks I say 'Thanks for your offer to rule my life but, I think I'll pass....besides, I want inter-racial babies.'