Fashion Serving a Greater Purpose: Pink Hijab Day 2009

"Wednesday, October 28th is this year’s Global Pink Hijab Day. Pink Hijab Day is intended to shatter stereotypes of Muslim women, as well as raise awareness and funds for breast cancer research. All over the world, Muslims participated by wearing pink hijabs, pink ribbons, and donating to breast cancer foundations."

Global Pink Hijab Day started two years ago. This time, founder Hend El-Buri is raising the bar and hoping to spread the idea of Pink Hijab Day to more places. Muslim and non-Muslim women-alike will be observing “Global Pink Hijab Day” by donning pink headscarves. This is a day intended to initiate dialog, promote education about the Islamic headscarf (Hijab), and raise breast cancer awareness.

In America, Magdalenna Garcia of Provo, Utah said “I think that Pink Hijab Day is an excellent opportunity for Muslims to participate in solidarity for breast cancer awareness; it serves as a symbol to the greater community that Muslims share the same concerns, and the hope for a cure.”

The Pink Hijab day has also spread to areas all over the world, including South Africa, Egypt, and Qatar.

“In North America we’ve had Islamic schools and MSAs participate. I hope this year that we can get more people in Muslim countries involved,” El-buri said.

Although Pink Hijab Day began with a small group of high school girls in the small town of Columbia, Missouri, the event now has thousands of participates all over the world.

Participants in Pink Hijab Day will encourage the curious to ask questions about hijab, as well as promoting breast cancer education, and donating to various Breast Cancer Foundations.

Pink Hijab Day is an independent project.

Donations for the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation are being collected. We encourage all those who wear pink Hijabs on this day or support this cause to donate $5 or more to the foundation.

Pink Hijab Day has already raised $210 and you can help them reach their goal of $1,000 by donating to Susan G. Komen’s Passionately Pink for the Cure. Get involved in your local communities; check out more on the Susan G. Komen Foundation.


Check it:PinkhijabDay.net

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.

There Is Nothing Wrong With America That Cannot Be Cured by What's Right With America

As mentioned by Hijabee in D.C. , while many tourists flooded Washington (D.C.) to attend the 4th of July celebrations, to honor America's 233rd anniversary, I, along with about 35,000 Muslims had other plans. I attended the 46th annual ISNA convention merely blocks away from the Capitol. Sprinkled with speaking greats, Imam Siraj Wahaj, Zaid Shakir, Suhaib Webb, Shaykh Hamzah Yusuf, and talent like Baba Ali, Ms. Latifa, Native Deen,  and The Great Seneca there was no shortage of Muslim pride.

To walk away from the convention broke in pocket, rich in soul, and not afraid to stand alone, I'm glad we were in the nations capitol. Just shy of of President Obamas' humble estate, we stood proudly gathered, celebrating the very ideals this country was founded on, freedom of religion, the right to assemble and the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

That was our story but, this is my story. And my story involves one of my best friends, Zahra and one of our closest family friends Saffiyah.

Part I- The Approach


The Infamous Leggings
I knew D.C. was about a 10 hr trip but, it never occurred to me that we'd actually be in the car for 8+ hrs. So when we left at about 3:3o am the sun was down, and it never crossed my mind that eventually the sun would come up.


This fact may or may not have influenced our decision to wear grey-1986 inspired-leggings. Meaning by hr 7, I was left to pump gas in a city with 1500 people in nothing but a hijab, grey leggings, and an MSA national shirt.

Fmylife.

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Part II- The Arrival



We arrived safely only to realize we had to pick up other people so we parked in a lot advertised for 6$ that apparently, "meant to say 10$" I tried telling the operator he was ripping us off by not only 4$ but, since we didn't park there, the entire 10$. "10$" he replied, "not my problem."

I made it his problem and we parked for free.

Part III- The ISNA Convention

Saturday ,we attended some lectures/made ourselves useful to society. Most of our day was spent volunteering with MSA [Muslim Student Association] and MYNA [Muslim Youth of America] and when I say volunteering.

Black Henna

 

The Bazaar this year was interesting. It was a bit weak-- which can easily be blamed on the economy/recession. But, that didn't stop me from splurging on hijabs, pins, and unnecessary accessories.

Part IV- The Spark (Light Upon Light)

Waiting for our signal to begin Shaykh Hamza Yusuf finally stood and firmly mounted the podium. He calmly began staring out across the masses of 6-56yr olds poised with precision and spoke, "Never apologize for who you are, aren't, or were," and with those words my eyes filled to the brim. How could they not? Whether is was arguments with friends, foes, professors, or prostitutes, for the past 6 months of my life I've blamed their shortcomings on my insecurities and accepted blame for the Muslim I am. I allowed my self to be every mans scapegoat and every woman's whipping boy. But, how could I? How, in good faith, could I apologize for the very religion that made me who I am? How could I back down from who I'm becoming because, I'm afraid of who I was? I swallowed the tears and wrote with fierce texture moving from my palm to the back of a program. If I gained nothing from this conference but, this moment, it would be a moment I will never forget.He continued, telling stories of animated cartoons like Pinocchio, who spent too much of his youth in fantasy island and not enough in reality, allowing the characters he was to be tempted by who he despised. And that, he says is why the problem with youth, is that it's wasted on the young. I'm far from fantasy island yet treat this life like it's permanent, allowing the whored-up sororities girls of my party-harty university in the sky to influence the woman I'm becoming.

He shared with us that July 4th is actually an Islamic holiday/Independence day, as it's the day that Jerusalem was liberated (Crusades). So much history, so much pride, and this is what I'm afraid to express almost 234 days out of the year. I'm afraid of just one name being called, or stone being thrown. But, it was in his statement, "Never apologize for your religion," that I realized I am an embodiment of this deen (religion). And so when I deny who I am physically, I'm denying who I am entirely.Nothing is more difficult, and therefore more precious, than to be able to decide. And with decisions come, again, the very foundations upon which this nation is founded, the ongoing struggle to maintain life, liberty, and that pursuit of happiness. I'm just as American as Pablo, Pedro, or Ahmed from down the way so why is it that I have to apologize for what I am, when it's everything you need.

It was in the that moment I realized, I'm taking my very life, youth, and freedom for granted. Or at least, I was. Freedom means choosing your burden, for freedom, is not enough. Every man dies, but, not every man lives. And so today my heart rings of liberty bells, and spiritual wells. I am free, not because I claim freedom, but because I practice freedom.


Trip Highlights//Inside Jokes

• Introducing Zahra to the world of Slurpees and Big Gulps
• Meeting a 35(ish) yr.old woman in the bazzar asking about whether or not I was single. I did the honest thing and replied 'yes,' to which she introduced me to her husband :|
• Loosing 2 lbs!

Best Part of D.C. Road Trip 2009

Knowing who I am; because the best part to leaving home is coming home.

When A Heart Breaks, It Don't Break Even

Boom went the thunder and lighting and ring went then phone. I lay still on the twin size bed as his sister clinched my hand tighter, afraid the tornado would take her away. Boom went the thunder and clinch went her fist, grasping at my skin, barely asleep, yet, wide awake. Crash went the wind slamming against the window pane and ring went the phone. The house, the weather, the family finally lay still, ring went the phone, "Yes, I love you" went him.

Love is in the air, the very air that I breathe. It's the very air that hung so heavy last night, sinking in deeper, knowing that after I heard love, I found hate. Many would assume that love is a positive thing but, love like change, requires both now and then. The then to this story is me. It's less the physical representation of me and more the mental. I am Muslim. He is Muslim. But, she isn't. So he loves what isn't me. He loves her, she who isn't Muslim, she who shouldn't be.

For centuries, culture has played a tug of war with those of ambition. Those souls who dare to think, or rather, love outside of the box. Think of the Boleyean girls daring to marry up for power, wealth, and status. Think of Princess Diana and her Egyptian boyfriend, or perhaps more recently with Kobe Bryant and his Caucasian girl wonder. Think of those who joined in union because of love but, divided communities, families, and lives because of the hate the union brought on. Think of Pochantos and John Smith, the tale of a man who wasn't afraid to show his parents what he loves, who he loves. Now think of yourself and what role you play into all of this.

A great friend of mine, Ms. Latifa, a Muslim slam-poet, from Atlanta, Georgia receives high acclaim for her poem 'My 9/11 story.' My favorite poem however is entitled, 'Plan B', in it she writes, "honestly, I didn't think you would marry me. Maybe Aliyah, or Zakiah, but at the community picnic the other day you introduced me to your new wife, Tamika." The poem continues, telling the story of a girl enraged by the pattern of Muslim men dating outside of their religion. And while in Islam such a merger is allowable, I, too, am enraged.

You see unlike marrying outside of color, or culture, in a community where religion is life, it's hard explaining why your best friends' brother lay awake at 2am, in damn near tears, over a Catholic girl from Indiana. My beef isn't with her as a person, she's nice, polite, quaint but, in many ways she's everything I'm not. At the end of the day she isn't Muslim. She doesn't hold the same beliefs, values, customs, as we do. And while it may seem that I'm jealous, I'm more disappointed than anything. Because within the Islamic community there are plenty of nice,polite, quaint, girls but, he chose her.

As Ms.Latifa so boldly states, "And this is not about her, its about the fact that you could of had any muslimah, any Zakiya, any Alliyah, but instead of you trying to keep our community intact, you want to start from scratch." I'm sick of these non-muslim chicks who don't know the struggle but, are getting all the perks, when we have been putting in all the work. How can we build our ummah if your wife is going to church? Some might say but, 'there are so many other Muslim men to choose from, why do you need him' but, in all honesty there isn't. And now we're one less.

Ms.Latifah continues, making the point that perhaps the Muslim men seek such women, because us, Muslim women, serve as a reminder, and they just don't want to be reminded. She doesn't know that verse in the Quran when you are wrong, but you know that I will find it. So, as one of those reminders, just let me remind you how much it hurts. It's not like marrying outside of color, or culture, it's religion. And it's more than acceptable as the Prophet Muhammd (saws) married a Christan women, as well as a Jewish one. And for him I can see why, he was an example that it is allowable for Muslim men to marry any woman of the monotheistic religions, conditionally speaking. If he hadn't done such, and it wasn't allowable it would provide grounds for further segregation and divisions, which is not Islam. But what about all the other Muslim men, the non-examples, the ones who insist on "starting from scratch?" What about those just like my friends brother who had every oppurtunity to create a Muslim family but, decided to leave yet another Muslim sister without a husband instead? And, I don't mean for us to sound like charity cases, or dependat upon the Muslim brothers that don't deserve us, I mean the men, not the boys. To the men let me be the one to ask why?

Boom went the rain and down fell my hopes of him not being with her.

Maybe The Jew is Right...

Question: Did Steve Carrel convert to Islam on the Daily Show?



Sweet, Another Win For the Home Team!

Check out:MRyder.net

Friday Fragments//Jumuah Jottings Post # 5- I'm Not a Princess, This Ain't a Fairytale

Despite popular myth much of reality is false. And when an angry client graced me with his cold shoulder because I wouldn't 'massage his pain' I realized I was wrong.

Now I'm not saying I should've stretched him as his actual personal trainer would have but, I could have mentally soothed his pain. Too often in my life I bandage mistakes and ignore bruised egos pulsing forward till the end. But, it was in that moment that I realized I wasn't living at all, I was functioning, coping, surviving. But, for what? Shit, you've only got one life to live...unless you're a kitty. And, I'm no pussy, and this is no fairytale. It's Friday and I'm alive, finally.


Friday Fragments//Jumuah Jottings #5

Whenever my sister (16) calls customer service reps about random complaints she usually gets her way. Then of course they turn on her and start trying to sucker her into 'NEW and IMPROVED' offers. It's beyond amusing because instead of just hanging up like normal people she begins screaming "I believe in Jesus! I believe in Jesus! (pause) Sir, my other line is ringing and it might be God. I have to go."

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Did anyone else hear about Johnny Depp converting to Islam? I say it's true and not just because I'm the one to marry him. Personally I’ve always thought that Johnny Depp and Hamza Yusuf had an uncanny resemblance. Fine, don't believe me.


Read the full story here.
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Over Heard Moments in Ptexan's Life:

Hipster teen:Are you pissing on that building?
Rich teen with faux fur coat:Welcome to the recession, buddy!

Hobo with cup of change in hand: You have any change?
College kid: Sorry, I don't have any money.
Hobo: Get a fucking job, you bum.
College kid: Fuck you! You first!
Hobo: I'm working right now, asshole.

Hot Physics Lab Instructor: "There's a little bit of failure in everyone."-- some people deserved to be hurt.
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Did You Know?!

• The only place in the universe where a flag flies all day, never goes up or comes down, never flies half-mast and does not get saluted, is the moon.
• Halle Berry’s stunt double, in the movie “Catwoman”, is a man.
• The mother of the boy Michael Jackson is accused of abusing is named 'Janet Jackson'.

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Today, a 7 year old girl randomly came up to me and told me to fuck myself. I told her to watch her language or else I'd tell her parents. Her mom happened to be nearby and actually heard this conversation, she came up to me and told me to fuck myself as well.

-FMyLife

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Sometimes I wonder what the hell I was thinking becoming a marriage and family relationships therapist. One should never begin there mornings at 10am overhearing:


Grey-haired grandma to another: "Of course, it was worse for him because she left to become a lesbian. (pause) And you can't help thinking of all that licking."

woah...at least I can't.

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Word of the Week

VOCD-"Volume Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder"
Function: Noun

A psycho-neurotic disorder in which the television viewer is beset with obsessions or compulsions or both to adjust the volume on the television to a "perfect" number, such as 15, 20, 25, etc. and suffers extreme anxiety or depression through failure to adjust the volume or witnessing an "imperfect" number (9, 16, 31).

Joe has VOCD bad it's worse than Christina Bales anger issues.


(thanks to my bff Zahra for having such strong OCD)
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The almost not-so-boss-boss asked me out to lunch on Saturday. It's not a date type of asking out though. I told him I couldn't because I didn't speak the language of cheesy pick up lines.


Then he said "So uhh..because I'm trying to make a deposit you just lost interest?"

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I absolutely loath tea and anyone who knows me knows I avidly collect satchels from all over the world. Like coffee, a good cup of tea is all in the brewing and steeping. Steep it too long and it tastes bitter; too short and you’re drinking muddy hot water. TeaCubes make it easy by placing the tea bag on a timed retractable spool. Hands free and a good cup of tea. What more could a tea lover ask for!


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One of the kids in my 4th grade had a birthday this week. I don't exactly conduce in class partys
but, her family's not so well off and she deserves something. So we had cupcakes and sparkling fruit juice. One of the boys slammed down the plastic cup exclaiming, "hey they bought the cheap stuff!" No kid we didn't, you're just used to the real stuff.

(for those of you who didn't understand he's been getting a bit tipsy before recess)
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(click image for larger view)

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Ron Paul has no alarm clock, but instead wakes every morning to the call of freedom.

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Remember the in class party? (above)

Yeah, we handed out cards. When James gave his card to Kylie he said, "I bought this card in the ghetto supermarket , that's why it smells like dead chicken."

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Does anyone ever stop to wonder why it's taking them so long to do a task? Sometimes it takes me about 20 mins just to put shoes on, no lie. Perhaps Youtube is decreasing my intelligence.

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Useless information I learn as a Marriage and Family Relationship therapist

1.)A man's beard grows fastest when he anticipates sex - That explains almost every Muslim I've ever met.

2.)Sex is the safest tranquilizer in the world. It is 10x more effective than Valium.

3.The first couple to be shown in bed together on prime time television were Fred and Wilma Flintstone.

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D- Bag of the Week

my doctor

For those say 2 of you who care about my weight endeavors I bitched the doctor out about lent to which he said "Don't blame Jesus for your fat lil missy." Apparently obesity is one sin He won't take credit for :|

Apparently my cortisol(a stress hormone) levels are so high they could build a staircase to the moon. Doctor says even if I tried starving myself or working out for hours upon hours the fat won't budge. The ONLY way to loose the 24+ lbs is by de-stressing. Yeah, hearing that stressed me out.

Untitled Evidence

♫ Why is it that we always speak in terms of rules instead of what would be beautiful? Do we worship a God of rules or a God of beauty?

I Think I Have A Problem, I Think I Think Too Much...

Stop me before I do something I'll regret. I often wonder why people use such phrases. It seems so simple if it's bad, haram, evil then avoid it. Easier said than done though. When I look back at my life and how my Islam and understandings in life have developed I can't help but frown [followed by a quick smile] upon the events that lead into who I am today. I think 'oh how foolish I was then'. Sometimes when I watch my siblings I even think to myself the famed "well, back in my day..." Hard to believe we even have a 'day'. A day when Doug and Spice Girls owned. Pluto was a planet and math was still done using pen and paper. Back then when I liked boys I bit them. Fun was considered outdoors, not in. Cell phones were 'mobiles', but only the elderly needed such. Life was good. Simple and complete was the world.

Today is a new dawning however. Pluto is gone and so are the bare necessities. Lion King is no longer a simple film about lions.It's considered inappropriate and laced with racial and sexual innuendos. You can't trust pen and paper. You can't trust the elderly either.I don't bite anymore but it seems they do. And cell phones=drama.

Boys. **sigh**

Long story short I loathe females who carry on with males in ways that could become easily misinterpreted. "It's haram I know but, we have good intentions." Apparently I'm the resident Gender Relations expert. I'm all for helping but, can someone, anyone, explain to me how you have a haram relationship for 'the sake of Allah (swt)'. Tell me how it's haram in a halal way. Tell me how you are 'just friends'. Tell me you know it's wrong and you are STILL going to do it. At least than you'd save the sin of lying. And, I can't completely say that I am not guilty. Sometimes though I want someone to yell some common sense at me. Because lately common sense isn't so common.

“Between men and women there is no friendship possible.There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.”

One of my now three best friends is male. was....male. He hasn't spoken to me for almost a month today. Suddenly no text, phone calls, IMs, visits on campus not even the occasional nuisance of a forwarded email. I can't help but think it's my own doing. Maybe the Facebook prank was a bit much. But now, there's nothing at all.To me he's dead or maybe it's the other way around. I miss him honestly. And part of me thinks it's good he's 'gone' maybe a sign. But, all of me knows better. He's trying to prove something. I wish I knew what though.

I wish his 15yr old brother wouldn't text me Lil' Wayne lyrics during ju'm3ah. I wish he didn't text calling me a slut. I wish his 'crew' didn't look at me so disappointed.More than that though I wish he would use his words instead of others assumptions. I wish I'd stop counting the days, and make the necessary change to have my buddy back. I wish that the people around me would stop saying it's because to him I'm more than a buddy. I wish I'd stop wishing.

I know what to do but, after reading this I think it'd be alot easier to 'accidentally' text him. I could 'accidentally,text everything I believe. 'Accidentally' I could express everything I know. Or I could accidentally give him a reason to block me from his existence.

This isn't the first time he's done the ignore-me game. He waits until I can't stand it and want to have a meltdown. Our battles should stop being repetitious forms of poetry. But, maybe that's the attraction. I'll just write this down with hopes that he'll understand. I can no longer be disciplined by the frustrations of an insecure man. Real friends will be there regardless.

Or at least I hope so.

I Close My Eyes So That I Can See...

"Let the miracles rush in"
[[actual photo]]

The rain trickles down my nose and I feel my cheeks flush hot red. I run inside my room, it's temperature is a minty shelter of heat. I stand on my tippy toes glancing from the pier and see the bright parade of umbrellas which seemingly march on their own, like little ants across the campus square.Each of the different colors makes the sidewalk seem so alive, happy, and liberated. I push my bed into the very center of my room,just cause I can, and there I sit, still moist from the rain, and there I hide. I bury myself deep beneath my fluffed and pampered sheets. Then, I smile. I giggle and think 'now, I'm safe'.

It's precisely days like this where the rain won't stop and the wind sings a song I want hot cocoa. It's the minutes slowly ticking by with such precision that I remember. It's the world that matters not it's people. It's times I like this I wish I could capture forever. It's these type of seconds that I wish I was married. Married not for the title or the commitment but just so I would have a partner to get lazy with my love.

I went on a trip last weekend, spelunking. Although I must admit it wasn't my ideal weekend, I give the coordinator my undying gratitude. No pun intended. Even now as I try scanning my vocabulary of SAT prep words I find none that describe what happened that fatal evening in Marengo Caves. The short version however, is that I attended a youth training seminar about God's miracles and life after death. We went through every step of the 'dieing' process ..but not verbally. We lay in mock graves, listened to about 10 minutes of tears and condolences from our 'family and friends'. Then the 'coffins' were lowered. Silently we sat listening to a CD were we were asked every question imaginable regarding our actions/deeds/and intentions while on this Earth. I've never been so touched. Even I the concrete angel who never exposes delicate emotion....cried.

It's different once you're gone. All I could remember were all things I meant to do. Every time I meant to say something. Knowing as I lay in those tight spaces that there was a chance I may not escape, the regret poured in. Now almost a week has passed since I got back from that fateful weekend. Still everyone wonders why I have a sudden pep in step and giggle in my voice. My friends all have their guesses: a raise at work, good grades, new car, some even guessed a new love. The truth is I found a new love, Islam. And,you would too if you had died.