Faith 

The elders of the masjid sat down in a circle, and the old man they had chosen as their sarbarah (leader) sat at the head. The Masjid committee looked rather worried. It was jummah, Friday. On Friday they held a meeting, and opened the two charity boxes. The old man was old, but rather handsome, graceful in his white hair, a brown safari suit. Though his years had been rough, they had been unable to wither him completely. He beckoned one of the men of the Masjid to begin. 

The man started. “Our funds have finished. The renovations in the Masjid simply have to stop. We can’t afford it.”

The old man said:”The funds have finished? But how much money do you need? I’m sure we can cover the cost when we open the charity boxes.”

Usually, when they opened the boxes, they got fifty to sixty thousand rupees.

“Sahab, we need at least two lakhs and seventy five thousand rupees!”

“Let’s not stop the renovations yet. Look here everybody, don’t lose faith! Have tawwakul in the Al-Mighty’s ways. All we have to do is try. Leave the rest to Him. It is His job to do things. Let’s open the charity boxes for now. He will surley do something about this.”

All though not everybody was completely sure, they felt comforted at the old man’s speech. The boys were made to open and count the money. Out of one of the boxes, came out a taped and sealed package. They put it aside, and continued counting. There were sixty thousand rupees, as expected.

“What is that package over there?” Asked the old man.

“We don’t know sahab. We want you to open it.”

“Oh, hurry up. Let’s just get this over with.”

“No, no, we want you to open it. Who knows what’s inside.”

So the old man took the package and ripped the tape. It had several layers to it, but eventually, he got to the paper itself. As he ripped it apart, his eyes widened with surprise. Inside were new, fresh thousand-rupee notes. The committee was surprised.

“See, I told you. It is His job. All we need to do is have faith. Tawwakul. And look what he does!”

The boy were made to count the money. 

“How much is it?”    ” Sahab, it is two lakh rupees!”

The boys were then questioned. Had they seen anyone put the package there? No, but one of the boys had seen a person put a taped and sealed envelope. Did the package have any names or addresses or phone numbers? No. Then how did the package get in the box? Nobody knew.

It is strange, the works of God. The imaam thanked the anonymous gentleman who had done such a noble deed in his khutbah.

So I guess miracles do still happen. We just don’t believe anymore. Perhaps I should mention that the old man is, infact, my grandfather, MashAllah.

Pious Spouse & A Beautiful Dream

Zaaday Raah - The Caravan of Faith

I loved it so much that I am sharing it here. This is written by Imam Omer Suleiman. May Allah SWT grant us pious spouses and may we are able to lead a life in His submission together. ameen.

“Imagine…sitting with your spouse in Jannah. And then deciding what the plans would be for that day…

Should we go outside, sit on our thrones, with waterfalls of milk and honey flowing beneath us? And enjoy a cup of Jannah wine, while smelling the sweet scent of Jannah musk?

Should we go to the souq, the market place, and meet all of our old friends that we used to kick it off with in the dunya, and talk about what dunya was like, and how we all made it here, and how Allah (swt) bestowed His favor upon us?

And then your spouse says, you know what, how about we…

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Suffering 

You don’t understand my brain.

It doesn’t look at you with compassion, it looks at you and says, “Your pain is beautiful. Your suffering is art.”

You don’t understand my brain.

It doesn’t sympathise with you. It doesn’t sympathise with me. It sees the shaking hands and bounces up with joy, living in the drama.

You don’t understand my brain. It doesn’t put you to sleep. It looks at those stinging eyes and drinks those tears, cherishing every sip.

You don’t understand my brain. It doesn’t let you go a minute too soon. It gulps in the theatre. It lives through the hurt, of course never in the hurt. It makes you live it. Until you give up. And then it doesn’t let you.