There was a janazah, it was a Friday in Ramadan,the last odd nights, people gathered … the Muzin called out, “Salah for the deceased”.
A filled masjid, early hours of Fajr, in the city of the beloved Prophet Muhammad SallAllah hu Alihye Wasalm. Madinah Al Munawarh… the city of light, the light of guidance.
Thousands attended that janazah, of unknown men and women ( for the sea of people attending, they were nobodies).
She made a silent dua, “Ya Allah allow me this station too, allow me to be blessed with this kind of an exit from this dunya, ameen.”
A wonderful way to the ending, but what was the means to that?
What did these blessed souls do to deserve meeting their Lord probably on Laila Tu Al Qadr?
Were they scholars? Were they callers to the deen? What did they do differently?
She held on to those questions. Walked slowly passing by jannah Al Baqi, the resting place of many beloveds of Allah Subhanahu Wa Tala.
And she heard a voice, “These were people of Taqwa .Nothing more, nothing less. They were the ones who didn’t get off on any other station in life.They went for the long haul. The small stops didn’t entice them.”
She returned home. Got busy with children, family , responsibilities. She did her best. Her salah was a rush when children were younger. She still had to make the missed fasts. Her Quran was bare minimum. A podcast of Tafseer here, a course of seerah or Tazkiyah there. She thought she was trying, everyone says, “It’s all about the intention. I am trying my best. I have the best intentions.”
Fast forward, children all adults, busy with their families and she sees them all repeating her cycle. Everything spiritual was a rush. Ibadha, Quran sitting with Allah contemplating happened either in Ramadan or when a calamity struck.
She remembered the Janazh she had attended a long time ago. She remembered her dua and a sea of restlessness emerged.
“Ya Allah, call me to the city of your beloved. Ya Allah allow me the station I had once asked for. Ya Allah I sincerely ask only You.”
And then …. she left, she left the earth to meet her Rab.
She left a letter for her children. She thought if not me then maybe them.
My beloveds, my pieces of heart.
How I wish I could go back in time and pause. Pause at the time when I missed as salah because I was busy with your team practice, school recital, selling girls scout cookies.
My qibla, my center was serving my children and family.
I am not blaming any of you. You did not know any better. I was supposed to teach you the right qibla. I was supposed to be mindful of my heart, my ibadah, my intentions my real life goals.
I don’t regret loving you all, but I must say I am ashamed I loved you more than your and my Creator. I forgot, time would be merciless.
I forgot that you would leave me one day, which sounds silly, as I was actually preparing you all for that same purpose. Preparing you to become independent, to start your own nests.I thought I would do it all in one go. Once I retire. But I never did.
You were all gone and then I baby sat my lovely little grandchildren. The younger years came flowing back to me. The babies on my backs, the rush to quickly attend them. Being greedy to spend playful hours with them.
I thought if I volunteer, it will be a fast track to the station I want to be at. But the heart got corrupted. People are difficult! Working for the sake of Allah is not an easy path. My intention got lost in the elections and the committees and the power struggles to do what I thought was best.
I missed that station again.
I started my Qiyam but my knees don’t allow me sajud anymore. Remember how I used to do gymnastic and swimming lessons with you all. I wish I had that energy left in me for my sajuds.
None of you asked me to do any of the things I did. I did those out of a sense of obligation, purpose, love and ego.
I wanted to give you the best of the best. In my mind I told my self, that’s ibadah too. Serving your family.
And then my services began to fall short. I couldn’t recall names, times, places. I would miss or overdose on medication. From a useful person to a useless nuisance the journey was tiring.
By the time you all are reading this, I must have met my Rab. It scares me. I did what I thought best at the moment, but I know deep down I didn’t. I thought I had time. I thought I will be able to do the last sprint. I couldn’t.
My dear ones, my hearts aches to see you repeat the cycle. Worshipping the means and not the One who grants. At least not in a mindful way. Your jobs, children, spouse, status are all important and Allah has been merciful to all of you, Alhamdulilallah.
I used to think that when you see your children living the life you had wished for and made an effort and dua for, you die in peace.
But I am far away from peace, I am restless. I missed the most important station. I let it slip.
I am hopeful in the mercy of The Most Merciful. He has alwasy answered my duas, He has shaded me with sakina and granted me the loftiness in this world. I am ever grateful.
Surely His promise is true.
I know now, why Asia is the only women whose dua to be close to Allah Subhanahu Wa Tala in Jannah in encapsulated in the Quran.
I understand now, why Hajar’s struggle to run between the hills in the hot desert has become a form of Ibadah for the world to continue until the end of times.
I see the strength of Fatimah with her blistered hands having tawakal when her father gives her words of tasbih instead of house help. She must have prayed the tasbeeh with tawakl and taqwa on those blessed blistered fingers…
How I pray to be in their company, the blessed mothers Khadijah and Ayehsa. The most honorable Maryam Aleyhe Salam.
I am gone my sadaqah jariyah. Bi izn Allah, I have hope. I make dua to see you among the likes of Muqarrbeen and Mukhliseen.
Don’t miss your station like I did. I don’t want that restlessness to envelop you. I pray that may someone passing by Jannah Al Baqi, in Ramadan, during the last ten nights prays upon your Janazah in the Prophet’s masjid ( Ameen).
How blessed are those who meet their Rab as peaceful souls.
I love you, the only worship I did without fail was loving you. Loving you all with the last ounce of patience I had in me.
I wish I had loved Al Wudud, the way I loved you.
To the kind soul reading, may your love for Al Wudud overcome any other. May Al Ghani grant you with peace and satisfaction in the worldly affairs. May you be among the ones in highest stations with the prophets and Allah’s beloved, Ameen.
Love,
A humble servant of God.
