Category Archive

I’ve officially been a muslim for one quarter of my life now, alhamdulilah.  On this morning, 1/4 of my life ago, I awoke before fajr, earlier then I’d ever arisen as a college student.  I stumbled to the bathroom to attempt ghusl and returned to my dorm room.  I pulled out one of the scarves I had purchased from alhannah, clumsily fashioned it to my head and stood at the foot of a prayer rug I hoped was facing towards Mecca.

I had been exploring Islam for more than a year, and subconciously had considered myself a muslim for months.  Using cards a kindly sister in Texas had sent, I prayed fajr for the first time, and in doing so, submitted myself to Allah (swt) with my whole heart and concious.

Over the years, I have not always been the most attentive slave of the Most Merciful.   Please make dua for me that I will improve as I continue forward on the straight path.

Oh Allah, may your Mercy towards me prevail over Your Wrath!

Oh Allah, allow me to draw nearer towards You walking, so that You may come to me running!

Oh Allah, on this Thursday when the gates of Paradise are open, please forgive me my transgressions and protect me from future ones!

Oh Allah, make me one of your friends.  Help me to draw nearer to you with obligatory acts, and even nearer with superogatory works, so that I may be one of those You love!

Oh Allah, make me one of those You love, so that You are my hearing with which I hear, You are my seeing with which I see, You are my hand with which I strike and You are my foot with which I walk!

Oh Allah, make me one who, when I commit a sin, immediately run to you and beg your forgiveness!

Oh Allah, make me one who stands the last third of the night in prayer!

Oh Allah, let me die with la ilaha il Allah on my tongue and in my heart!

Oh Allah, make me one of the people of paradise!

Ameen.

An updateon the Episcopal Priest(ess) who claims to be both a muslim and a christian.

Wolf has affirmed that determination, barring Redding from functioning as a priest for the next six months.

According to church law, unless Redding resigns her priesthood or denies being a Muslim during those six months, the bishop has a duty to defrock — or depose — her, as the process is formally known.

…

While she does not regret going public about her embrace of Islam, she does acknowledge being naive about the controversy her announcement would stir up.

“I can definitely be a Pollyanna,” she said. “It never occurred to me it was something to be in the closet about. I just thought it was great.”

Getting to know Islam was “like falling in love,” she said. “You want to share it, you want to get on a rooftop and start shouting.”

The article discusses the Episcopal church’s reaction to this synchronism of faith, but nothing about the muslim view.  And as much as I feel for the sister, if you fall in love with Islam, you fall in love with Allah (swt) and with Muhammad (swt).  Seriously, WWMD (what would Muhammad do)?  Christians and Jews who converted under the Prophet (saws) often still maintained their kinship ties with their christian and jewish families, but they didn’t practice those faiths anymore. 

Question:

When someone decides to convert, should they do so right away? 

I’m not talking about someone who just started reading about Islam and who’s interests are peaked.  No, this is someone who has decided to convert after careful consideration and they’ve set a date to do so, a few days, a few weeks, or a few months in the future.

My gut feeling is to say “Don’t wait!”  We don’t know how much time we’ve been given here.  We might not make it to tomorrow morning, let alone the date you’ve set to convert.  But then, what if you’re alone at that instant?  Do you call up some muslim friends and ask for them to come over?  But what if you die before they arrive?  What if you don’t have any muslim friends on hand and the people at the mosque want to do it on a date in the future?

I’d say do it now, in front of Allah (swt), and then get some witnesses later and do it all over again.

Shout out to my soon to be sister (inshaAllah) Terrie!  Congrats girl!

Greetings from backhomelandia aka cheesecurd central aka the land of 10,000 Prius. As has become a tradition, I trek across the border to spend the extended memorial day weekend with family.

First up was a visit with my grandma in the land of 10,000 Prius aka Madison, Wisconsin. Seriously people, I should have counted. 3 minutes didn’t pass while we were driving about town when I didn’t see one of these little hybrids zipping around.  Ah, my people, my hippy dippy tree hugging people, how I love you.

And now, we shall digress, but I promise this will come back to my grandma and my weekend…

…growing up, I never wanted to rock the boat.  I was terrified of upsetting people, so I always laid low and tried to avoid conflict.  I ordered always ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, so as not to be a burden on my parents.  I never asked to go out, because I didn’t want to bother my parents for a ride.  I only hosted parties on my birthday and later when my mom saw that I was a hermit and insisted that I invite friends over.  I played oboe in junior high, which requires reeds that needed to be purchased every so often.  However, I hated to ask my parents for money, so I went away to band camp with one old reed.  It broke 2 days in and I had to beg the oboe teacher to make me one.  I came away looking like a fool, all because I didn’t want to upset my parents by asking for money to buy new reeds.

It is with this background that I’ve approached my conversion vis a vi my family.  Not wanting to rock the boat, I didn’t tell anyone I had converted.  I was waiting, waiting, waiting for the right time.

I transfered schools a few months after I converted, and there I wanted a fresh start.  Part of that fresh start was being known as a muslim on campus.  And part of that was donning the hijab.  One small problem – my sister went to the same university.   Granted, there were tens of thousands of students, so the chances that I would run into her were small.  I worked my way into the traditional hijab, and switched to a bun style when I had lunch with my sister.  One evening, we went to see a lecture by Ben Stein.  I wore my undercover bun style hijab, and when we went up to get our books signed, Ben Stein asked me if I wore a scarf for religious reasons.  I said yes without even thinking.  Crap, I was caught.  He asked me what my religion was, and I meekly said Islam.  He must have thought that I was nervous, as he is jewish, so he smiled warmly and told me that his best friend as a child had been muslim.  Ah, but it wasn’t him I was worried about.  No, I was worried about disappointing my sister.  She turned out to be cool with it, except for the occasional digression into “OMG, what happened to you?  You used to be such a feminist, blah blah blah.”

My parents suspected something obviously, as I started to cover my hair with bandanas when I was at home.  Eventually, they snooped in my email over christmas break, found the evidence and confronted me.  I sat on the couch, crushed through the confrontation, feeling like crap that I had disappointed them.  For years, I was ashamed to show my Islam around them.  They pretended it didn’t happen, and I didn’t do anything obviously Islamic in front of them.  Gradually, I started to be obviously “muslim” in front of them, even to the point where my mom gave me a beautiful scarf for christmas (ah, how to confront them about the fact that I no longer want to celebrate christmas.  but that’s another story).

Circling back now to my grandma – how to tell her that I converted to this religion that she knows nothing about, beyond what she has seen on television from terrorists?  My solution – don’t tell her.  Sound familiar?  She knew something was up when I started covering my hair when I visited during college, but she didn’t say much aside from commenting on my change in wardrobe.  She didn’t even say anything when she came to visit last October during Ramadan and we took her to an iftar at the local masjid and I went to pray.

No, it wasn’t until this weekend when she actually outright asked me if I had “converted to the muslim religion.”  SubhanAllah, here I am more than 6 years beyond my conversion, and when asked outright, I hang my head and meekly say yes.   Suprisingly, she doesn’t say anything about terrorists, or muslim men treating women like shit.  No, she continues to focus on my dress.  I’ve taken to wearing skirts instead of pants, and will now cover my hair in a more conventional muslim-ish fashion when I go to visit.  That’s what bothers her – not the fact that I don’t celebrate christmas or easter, nor that I no longer believe Jesus (as) is the son of God – no, she wonders why I don’t wear pants and why I cover my hair.   It could be worse.  God bless her.

But even then, confronted with such a mundane little triffle, I can’t express myself well in this regard.  When I speak with people I’ve met after my conversion, it’s very easy for me to explain my choice in dress.  Covering my hair is an act of worship, and it identifies me as a proud, strong, intelligent muslim woman.  I humble myself in front of my Lord every time I put it on, and I shatter stereotypes in my interaction with Joe Schmoe at the office.

But with my family, it’s different.  We never talked about God…never EVER.  We went to church on Sunday, and that was it.  Oh, we went to sunday school, got confirmed, but as a family, we never discussed the Almighty.   That child who was afraid to ask for $3 for a reed lest she upset her mom is still very much in control when it comes to interacting with my family.  Even with my dear sweet grandmother, I cannot work up the nerve to challenge the status quo, to bring God into our discussions, and to express my devotion to Him in my choice of dress.

SubhanAllah, I’m so ashamed.  I’m 26 years old, and I’m more afraid of my family than I am of Allah (swt).  That scared little child inside of me won’t go away overnight, but inshaAllah, she needs to start heading out of town.   I shouldn’t be ashamed of my deen and it’s requirements.  If I cover my head, so what?  If I stop and pray 5 time a day, so what?  If God is a real and important part of my life, and I want to talk about Him, so what?  inshaAllah inshaAllah inshaAllah I am going to quash this shame, and be proud of my faith, with everyone.

Whew, that was more than I’ve talked about hijab in a long time.  I wear it, but I don’t obsess about it.  Heck, I’m even pulling back on my online window shopping sprees.  No more hijab talk for awhile inshaAllah.

Still to come in my backhomelandia series:

• my sister and (no) God
• couldn’t the husband convert to be lutheran?
• on a (salat) roll, and I feel fine
• and perhap more, seeing as how I have 2 days left before I head back home

Alhamdulilah, I’ve never had addiction issues with alcohol.   I made shahada and that was it – no more booze -except for the occasional slip up with some sneaky vanilla extract or wine used to cook food that I wasn’t aware of.  I converted early in my college career, before I could legally drink.  I went to school in Madison, regularly ranked the Number 1 Party School in the country for the amount of alcohol that flows freely among the student population, so temptation was everywhere.  Alhamduililah, I stayed strong.  By not drinking, I saved a ton of money and didn’t do anything stupid like falling off a balcony.

If I can withstand the temptation of alcohol, why can’t I do the same with television?  I’ve had brief flirtations with quitting the television.  I don’t sit down and watch it for 5 hours at a time on Saturday and Sunday anymore.  But it’s still there, taunting me, calling me, and inevitably, I succumb.

Last night was the House season finale.  Highlight for spoiler *Wilson is lying next to Amber in the last few hours of her life.  She tells him she’d like to go to sleep now, he kisses her, and then he leans over and turns off the bypass machine*  I’m snuggling up next to my husband, sniffling away and trying to hold back tears.  

This morning, I was listening to my NPR podcasts as usual when this story came up.  In it, a Chinese couple desperately clings to the hope that their son is alive, only to have those hopes shattered.  You hear real grief, real anguish, real pain.  The NPR reporter is struggling to control her emotions throughout the entire report.

Then it hit me BAM!  There is so much suffering in this world, why on earth am I getting weepy over some fictional television characters?  Why on earth would I want to spend the precious few minutes I have here on earth entertaining myself with the idiot box?  Aren’t there better things to do with my time?

Granted, I probably won’t be able to give TV up cold turkey.  But I’m going to keep this incident in mind.  The next time I feel myself getting weepy over someone who doesn’t even exisit, I’ll check myself and go do something else inshaAllah.

…learned about Islam before I met muslims.  It’s a phrase that has become popular among some converts in recent years, and this weekend, it was more evident to me than it has been in a long long time.  I just celebrated another year as a muslim last week, and sometimes, it seems like nothing has changed.

When I began to investigate Islam, I ordered a Quran from half.com.  I picked another up from the local new age store in my town.  I got another free from the Saudi Embassy, and rescued two from the “books we wanted to sell back but the bookstore wouldn’t take them” box at the university bookstore.  I was on a spiritual quest, and knowing some muslims on a social level at school led me to include islam in my search.  I was picking up sacred texts from other religions as well, but there was something unexplainable in the Qur’an that kept leading me back to it, compelling me to aquire as many as I could find.

I branched out, checking out every book on Islam that the university library had to offer.  Farid Esack’s On Being Muslim had a profound impact on me.   I read through every article on the Modern Religion and Islam for Today.

Oh, I interacted with muslims too, mainly online.  But the main push towards my embrace of Islam came not through my conversations with them, but instead came from my reading of the Qur’an.  Here was what I had been looking for.  I lost faith in Christianity after I studied the history of biblical composition my freshman year of college.  I could no longer hold that collection of books as God inspired.  They’d been messed with too much, disperate pieces taken and mashed together, books chosen by a council of men, rather than something given by the son of God. 

In my search, I wanted a text that was revelation, something that was from God and that had been preserved.  I found that in the Qur’an.  Here God had revealed a text to a man who, I would later find, set an excellent example for man’s conduct with one another, with God and with the earth.  That text was memorized and passed down, perfectly preserved until this very day.   Alhamdulilah, thanks be to God, I had found my path!

After I converted, it was a few more months before I had an opportunity to interact with muslims in the real world.  I transfered schools, and while at the summer orientation, I plucked up the courage to visit the islamic center near campus.  I attempted to put a scarf on, akwardly, and walked through the front door.  big.  mistake.  A big burly man with a bushy beard rushed towards me, arms waving, sisters through the back, sisters through the back!

I stumbled out the door, tears clouding my vision.  I made my way around to the back, only to find the sisters door locked.  I sat dejected next to the door until a woman came up and punched in the code – without saying a word to me.  I entered after her, hastily prayed zuhr and got the heck out of dodge.

I’d like to say that this was an isolated incident and that my experiences with muslims from then on only helped to strengthen my iman and help me to learn the deen.  Alas, it was not to be.  Although I’ve had stints of activity in the muslim community, for the most part it’s just been me, my books and the internet.   Oh, and the husband

This past Saturday, a local masjid had it’s grand opening, a whole day of lectures with 20 imams and sheikhs.  The husband and I went about halfway through the day.  I was reluctant to go, as I’d been to the masjid a few months earlier and wasn’t a fan of the sisters’ accomidations – a tiny room in the back, accessable only by going around the back and taking off your shoes in a garage.   Despite my misgivings, I bucked up and went.  MashaAllah, it was both a mistake and a blessing.  Sisters were packed wall to wall, talking and yelling at each other across the room.  I tried to make my way to be near a speaker, but it was hopeless.  I couldn’t hear a word of the lecture.  Some sisters were trying to quiet the others by hssst-ing at them.  Eventually, I got so frustrated, I got up and shouted, sisters, please, please be quiet so we can hear!  Didn’t work.  I left, dejected once more.

I called the husband and told him I was going to sit in the car and wait until he was done eating so we could leave, which I did.  Alhamduililah for my ipod and Sh. Hamza lectures.  At least my time wouldn’t be a total waste.  Just as I settle in, what to I see out my window?  A small somali child, running bare foot up the middle of the road and almost getting run over by a car!  I leapt out of the car and tried to call the child to me, but he ran right past.  I hurried after him (not an easy thing to do in a skirt and clogs), and eventually coaxed him into my arms.  Meanwhile, a guy at the laundrymat had seen the kid run by and had called the police.  I knew the kid was from the mosque, so I sent several sisters who walked by to find his mother while we waited.  5 minutes pass…no one came.  10 minutes pass…no mom.  15 minutes…the policewoman arrives.  I explain that I think I know where the child came from and she says that she’ll walk us over to the mosque to find the child’s mom.

So off we go, child drooling fruit juice all over my shirt, a non muslim man carrying his laundry and a police woman.  As I enter the sister’s section, someone snatches the child from me and runs inside without a word.  Umm, hello?  Don’t you want to know why I have this child?  No thank you?  I ran in after the sister and told her that her brother (still no mom to be found) had almost been run over and that she needs to watch him more carefully.  She looks at me blankly and slips away. 

Now I turn to the brothers doing security outside the masjid and try to explain what had happened and that could they please watch for any children escaping outside?  What did I get?  Yelled at, that’s what.  Dude, I know the sisters need to watch their kids, all I’m asking is that since you’re out here, please just watch for kids, since this one obviously slipped past you and almost became a road pancake.

At this point, I return to the car and call the husband.  The tears begin to flow and he dashes out to find out what happened.  Blubbering, I tell him the story, and he stalks back to the masjid.  A few minutes later he’s back, with the imam of the masjid in tow.  The imam apologizes for the guard’s rude behavior and begs me not to judge the masjid by this one incident.  I try to smile and tell him that inshaAllah I’ll come to another event in the future.

But, deep inside, I know that it will be a long time before that happens.  I don’t blame this masjid.  It’s not their fault.  It’s a general disease infecting our ummah.  Thank God I found Islam before I found muslims.  I can’t imagine if I was a non muslim and had gone to the mosque on Saturday to learn about Islam.  I would have booked it out of there so fast and probably never looked back.  I can’t imagine what the non muslim man who called the police when he saw the child running down the road must think about muslims and Islam.  I know what some non muslims think when they see muslims rioting in the street, burning embassies and commiting acts of terrorism.   

Alhamduililah I found the Messenger of Allah (swt) before I found those who claim to follow his Sunnah.  Thank God I have the life of the beloved Meseenger (saws) to look to when I need a role model in my faith.

Thank God I found the Allah (swt) before I found those who claim to follow Him (swt).  Who knows what I would be now if that had happened?

“Oh you who believe! Seek help with patient perseverance and prayer, for God is with those who patiently persevere.” (2:153)

When I embraced Islam, I didn’t tell my parents. I didn’t know how I could explain to them my choice, especially in the post 9/11 world where the general perception of Islam was negative. I wish I could have told them on my own terms, at a time of my choosing, but Allah (swt) is the best of planners. While visiting my parents during a school break, I logged into my email and forgot to log out. My parents were worried, as they suspected I was getting serious with someone I had met online (my future husband), so they snooped in my email, and found out both about the future husband and my conversion to Islam. They confronted me about both, and unfortunately, I could do little more than stutter.

Since then, their attitude has been to pretend it never happened. When I visited, I wore my hijab up, hippy style, so as to not draw attention to myself as a muslim in public. I hid my salat from them, never letting on when I prayed, and often skipping prayers when I couldn’t get away (astaghfirullah). I left some articles and a book with them, but that book sat next on the nightstand for years, never moving, getting covered in dust until it disapeared. I don’t know if they ever read it.

At family holiday gatherings, I argued with my uncles about civil liberties and the war in Iraq, which would inevitably lead to discussions on Islam. My parents said I embaressed them, and that I shouldn’t talk that way.

Every once in awhile, my mom would point out a cource offering or a book on native american spirituality, hinduism, buddhism, etc. “Wouldn’t you be interested in that?” They would be happy if I was anything other than a muslim. It didn’t matter that as a religious studies major, I had already gotten a decent introduction to most world faiths and that I was content in my choice. All the open mindedness they had raised me with disapeared once the aarabs and muzzie terrorists got involved.

So, I remained an undercover muslim when my parents were around. They knew I was muslim, but prefered to pretend otherwise. With patience and prayer, I continued, praying that one day my parents would accept my choice. I tried to remain on good terms with them, per the advice of the Prophet (saws):

Asmaa’ bint Abu Bakr was the Prophet’s sister-in-law. She was the daughter of his closest companion and the sister of Aisha, his wife. Her mother, however, did not become a Muslim for quite a long time.Asmaa’ states: “My mother came to me during the time of the Prophet (saws), hoping to get something from me. I asked the Prophet (saws) whether I should be kind to her. He answered: “Yes,” (Related by Al-Bukhari, Muslim and others).

And now, alhamdulilah, a small break through! Truely Allah (swt) is the best planner. My mother is a teacher, and was given an opportunity to travel around her state with other educators on a summer trip. She was originally not going to go, but decided at the last minute to take the trip. One of the stops was a (benedictine?) monastary, where 3 speakers – a jew, a christian and a muslim – gave a presentation on the similarities between the faiths. Alhamdulilah! I think this was the first time my mother had ever heard about Islam from a muslim source. The muslim speaker apparently impressed her, because she sought out his wife after the presentation for a chat. She mentioned her daughter was married to an Egyptian immigrant. The woman, herself an immigrant from Egypt who had been in the US for 37 years, immediately invited my husband and I to visit her home and said that they could be like a family for us. I am not sure what else they talked about, but I got the distinct impression that my mother liked this woman.

Alhamduilah, I had been unable to reach my parents and Allah (swt) found another way to reach them. Make dua for my family.

I left Wisconsin, my birthplace, in the summer of 2001, being at the time the age of 19, with the intention of searching for spiritual meaning in my life.

I set out alone, finding no companion to cheer the way with friendly intercourse, and no party of travellers with whom to associate myself. Swayed by an overmastering impulse within me, and a long-cherished desire to visit those glorious sanctuaries, I resolved to quit all my friends and tear myself away from my home…

…ok, ok, so I didn’t actually leave Wisconsin, but I did log onto the world wide web and began the online spiritual journey that I still find myself on today. Also, I didn’t actually dump all my friends. In fact, I found quite a few new ones along the way (one of whom I married, hi sweetie *waves*).

Anyways, back to my narrative, in August 2000, I found myself at a Lutheran University, enrolled in the honors college. Little did good lutheran parents know, but the curriculum taught to smart little freshmen often had a very negative impact on their faith. Throughout the school year, my faith gradually weakened to the point of near shatterable fragility.

In the midst of this all,I signed up to by a counselor at a youth camp I had frequented as a child…a christian youth camp. Freshman year ended, and off I went, faith dangling by a thread. Lots happened, and the little faith I had left in Christianity and the Bible shattered. I found myself on half.com, ordering a number of religious books, including a copy of the Qur’an.

I returned to the lutheran university for my sophmore year and threw myself headfirst into the world of online religious content. I explored buddhism, universalism, christianity, the baha’i faith, wicca, paganism, you name it, I probably read about it. I signed onto ICQ and yahoo chatrooms, and met people of a wide variety of faiths.

Along this journey, I found myself sticking more and more to one particular branch in the road – Islam. I will inshaAllah expand this section when I have more time. Suffice to say, after reading about Islam online and talking with muslims (including the one who would eventually become my husband alhamdulilah), at a certain point, I knew I believed La ilaha il Allah, Muhammadur rasul Allah. Even after accepting Islam, I continued to journey around the muslim ummah online. And alhamdulilah, it grows everyday, so there’s always something new for me to find.

In this humble blog, I hope to document the internet resources that have been helpful to me over these last years as a seeker and then as a believer, and those that I continue to find and use as I seek to become a muminah, inshaAllah ta’ala.

I will most likely revise this entry from time to time, as I have more time to devote to reflecting on the happenings and whatnot of my conversion.