A friend recently invited me to a new Meetup group for Muslim families in Bergen County. I know my husband will have little interest in this, as it is another social media network, and he says he hates social media (or at least pretends to, while he does have a Facebook, LInked In & Twitter account).
So I am attending their first book club meeting next weekend. Husbands are invited, but I won't extend this to my husband as I know he has too much on his plate for me to even ask. On the other hand, I have been overjoyed to start picking up books again. I am loving reading again, and while the baby does not make it easy, there are those rare moments where she grabs a book of her own and joins me on the sofa. Plus she has recently started "reading" out loud herself, which is a series of words she knows, intertwined with babble. But to my ears, it is music.
The first choice of the book club is "The Hunger Games" by Suzanne Collins. I have to admit a while back I read a quick summary of this book on Wikipedia and it did not interest me. In fact I would not have read it now, except that my friend Maleeha handed me her copy, so I had no reason not to. That was yesterday. Less than 24 hours and 374 pages later, I am done. Perhaps this is a recurring theme with me, but I could not put it down. Now that I think about it, it is recurring, but often has little to do with the quality of the book, just my need to know the ending NOW.
But in this case, I loved the book. I believe this book is aimed at an audience at least a decade younger than me, but since I've never really grown up, I really enjoyed reading it.
I really don't want to give much away as it is a long story, and shocking story at times. However the author has done a great job of making it real; I feel like it can happen, must happen in some part of the world. Not in my neighborhood, where survival means driving to the closest supermarket, and turning up the thermostat. But I know in other parts of the world people have to do whatever they can do to ward off starvation, a major part of this book. Could I do the same, where I pushed to struggle for my own existence? I pray to Allah that I never have to find out.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
The Screwtape Letters/ The Help
Next up on my reading list was C.S. Lewis' "The Screwtape Letters." I read the first chapter, and about half of the second, and felt I was done, I had read the whole book.
The book consists of chapters, which are actually letters written from the Devil to his "henchmen" on how to deceive and mislead men. An interesting point was made in the first chapter, and that was not to allow man think or reason, to keep his distracted and focused on trivial, worldly matters. That way there would be no room in his head for the constant reminder of God. I liked the chapter well enough.
The first half of the second chapter seemed practically identical, the same tone, the same vocabulary. That's what I decided to move on to the next book.
The next book recommended to me was "The Help" by Katheryn Stockett. I could not put this book down. It was written very well, flowing between the viewpoints of different characters, so you could almost imagine what each person went through. And that made it hard to hate anyone. Well almost anyone.
It's the story of a white woman working with the African American help in well to do white houses in Jackson, Mississippi, telling their stories. Among them are bad ones and good ones, stories where the help is treated with kindness and generosity, yet all the while maintaining their position as the help. Never ever really on the same field as their employers.
As you can imagine, the characters trying to tell these stories were at great danger of being found out, though it wasn't something stressed in the book. As I read, my heart was constantly on edge, praying for them to succeed without being caught in the act.
I'd like to be more in depth with my review, but it's been a few weeks since I finished it. I loved it, and now that I have read the book, I want to watch the movie. I am sure it will pale in comparison, but I still expect to be entertained.
The book consists of chapters, which are actually letters written from the Devil to his "henchmen" on how to deceive and mislead men. An interesting point was made in the first chapter, and that was not to allow man think or reason, to keep his distracted and focused on trivial, worldly matters. That way there would be no room in his head for the constant reminder of God. I liked the chapter well enough.
The first half of the second chapter seemed practically identical, the same tone, the same vocabulary. That's what I decided to move on to the next book.
The next book recommended to me was "The Help" by Katheryn Stockett. I could not put this book down. It was written very well, flowing between the viewpoints of different characters, so you could almost imagine what each person went through. And that made it hard to hate anyone. Well almost anyone.
It's the story of a white woman working with the African American help in well to do white houses in Jackson, Mississippi, telling their stories. Among them are bad ones and good ones, stories where the help is treated with kindness and generosity, yet all the while maintaining their position as the help. Never ever really on the same field as their employers.
As you can imagine, the characters trying to tell these stories were at great danger of being found out, though it wasn't something stressed in the book. As I read, my heart was constantly on edge, praying for them to succeed without being caught in the act.
I'd like to be more in depth with my review, but it's been a few weeks since I finished it. I loved it, and now that I have read the book, I want to watch the movie. I am sure it will pale in comparison, but I still expect to be entertained.
Friday, October 21, 2011
More book reviews on the way
I got around to reading a few more books recommended to me, The Screwtape Letters and The Help. I will review them in further detail later.
For now I have picked up what I beleive is the latest installment in the Shopaholic series, Mini Shopaholic. Thought it has not been over two or three years since I read the earlier books, I am already annoyed with the main character, Becky. I have become a mother, as had she, but she has not grown up one bit. Ugh.
For now I have picked up what I beleive is the latest installment in the Shopaholic series, Mini Shopaholic. Thought it has not been over two or three years since I read the earlier books, I am already annoyed with the main character, Becky. I have become a mother, as had she, but she has not grown up one bit. Ugh.
So the other shoe drops. Sort of.
Vacations scare me. The thought of going away and having a great time is something I always look forward to. But something nags me in the back of my mind, "how could I be so lucky?" I usually expect to return home to some sort of sickness or catastrophe, and Alhamdulilah by the grace of Allah it has not happened yet I can never let go of this (irrational?) fear.
As I try my hardest to settle into sleep on Wednesday night (I say try because the wanna-be Beckham inside me has other plans), I cannot help but smile from excitement over the next day's plans. Storytime at the library, high tea with my best friend, followed by meeting up at Girl's Night Out, a shopping event in downtown Westfield, NJ. I know it is not a Disney cruise, or a weekend in Paris, but I know how lucky I will be to have the time to enjoy my famly, friends, and beautiful weather, living in a place with no fear of open air violence or political turbulence. Perhaps it is because I am a mommy now, but I have learned to appreciate and enjoy simple days.
We return home, and I have a fitful night, with very little sleep, not because of my daughter, but again, thanks to David Beckham. Around 6 am, I hear my mom's car alarm go off. It is still dark outside, so as I look out the window, nothing looks unusual in the driveway. An hour later, as my sister prepares to leave for work, she discovers the car window smashed and her optometry kit, full of expensive tools, stolen. It was the first and only time she had
left it in the car.
So that was the other shoe dropping. Reading this now makes me feel silly. We were so blessed that our home was safe, we were all asleep (well not I) in our warm, cozy bed, and any real danger did not befall us. So really, it was a blessing, not a misfortune right? Still I think I should plan a few dull days ahead of me, and try not too have too much fun.
As I try my hardest to settle into sleep on Wednesday night (I say try because the wanna-be Beckham inside me has other plans), I cannot help but smile from excitement over the next day's plans. Storytime at the library, high tea with my best friend, followed by meeting up at Girl's Night Out, a shopping event in downtown Westfield, NJ. I know it is not a Disney cruise, or a weekend in Paris, but I know how lucky I will be to have the time to enjoy my famly, friends, and beautiful weather, living in a place with no fear of open air violence or political turbulence. Perhaps it is because I am a mommy now, but I have learned to appreciate and enjoy simple days.
We return home, and I have a fitful night, with very little sleep, not because of my daughter, but again, thanks to David Beckham. Around 6 am, I hear my mom's car alarm go off. It is still dark outside, so as I look out the window, nothing looks unusual in the driveway. An hour later, as my sister prepares to leave for work, she discovers the car window smashed and her optometry kit, full of expensive tools, stolen. It was the first and only time she had
left it in the car.
So that was the other shoe dropping. Reading this now makes me feel silly. We were so blessed that our home was safe, we were all asleep (well not I) in our warm, cozy bed, and any real danger did not befall us. So really, it was a blessing, not a misfortune right? Still I think I should plan a few dull days ahead of me, and try not too have too much fun.
Monday, September 26, 2011
The one about the book
I vaguely remember when I had started this blog wanting to do book reviews. I am not sure when I forgot about doing that, but here goes another try at it. The other day I was hit with the realization that I have not read a book, a real book, meant for my age group and without pictures or pop-up characters, in nearly two years. At least this was an easy fix, or so I thought.
Often my eighteen month old and I fight over the use of the laptop, ipad or even my cell phone. Naturally I assumed it was because kids love screens. I hate that she wants these things so I try to limit my use around her. A book would be different, right? Wrong! Every time I sat down with my first book in two years, Noor would run over, say "I want book", taking my book to the nearest sofa and plop down to read with the book in her lap. As frustrating as it was, I must admit I was proud of her.
On Saturday we took a family trip to the local library. I recently received many book recommendations from a few friends, via facebook, so I had decided to work my way down the list. The first book was "Mornings in Jenin," by Susan Abulhawa. Fiction, which is usually what I prefer to read.
Despite the battle over the book with my toddler, I was able to read it here and there and within 24 hours I got through its' 325 pages. In truth I had trouble putting it down or thinking of anything else until I got through it. I had forgotten how time consuming reading can be when you are someone like me who has the need to know how it ends.
I started off reading the book like it was any other piece of fiction. I was immediately drawn to and immersed in the lives of the characters, spanning several generations of a Palestine family from the 1940's and onwards. I planted myself on their farm, in their home, gathering their harvest by their side.
Then in 1948, the Israeli regime began threatening their homes, their lives, their livelihoods. I was engrossed in the world of guns, violence and the fear that they lived in, interspersed with happy moments, a marriage, a child being born. As I kept reading I was unable to remind myself that I was not in Palestine with them.
Halfway into the book it hit me hard. I really was not in their world. I looked around me, suddenly thrust into my reality, four sturdy walls, a soft bed, a ceiling not ridden with holes, listening to the sound of crickets chirping outside my windows, not bulldozers or guns.
And the it REALLY hit me. This was NOT fiction. These were characters based on real people in real situations. How could I have been so numb, so stupid, as to forget that I was not just reading a piece of fiction, I was in fact reading history. The realization was heartbreaking. When I hear or see the news of Palestine in the media, I am sad for them, but watching these characters who I had placed myself next to go through the actual events put everything in a different light. I could not be the same person after reading this book.
Often my eighteen month old and I fight over the use of the laptop, ipad or even my cell phone. Naturally I assumed it was because kids love screens. I hate that she wants these things so I try to limit my use around her. A book would be different, right? Wrong! Every time I sat down with my first book in two years, Noor would run over, say "I want book", taking my book to the nearest sofa and plop down to read with the book in her lap. As frustrating as it was, I must admit I was proud of her.
On Saturday we took a family trip to the local library. I recently received many book recommendations from a few friends, via facebook, so I had decided to work my way down the list. The first book was "Mornings in Jenin," by Susan Abulhawa. Fiction, which is usually what I prefer to read.
Despite the battle over the book with my toddler, I was able to read it here and there and within 24 hours I got through its' 325 pages. In truth I had trouble putting it down or thinking of anything else until I got through it. I had forgotten how time consuming reading can be when you are someone like me who has the need to know how it ends.
I started off reading the book like it was any other piece of fiction. I was immediately drawn to and immersed in the lives of the characters, spanning several generations of a Palestine family from the 1940's and onwards. I planted myself on their farm, in their home, gathering their harvest by their side.
Then in 1948, the Israeli regime began threatening their homes, their lives, their livelihoods. I was engrossed in the world of guns, violence and the fear that they lived in, interspersed with happy moments, a marriage, a child being born. As I kept reading I was unable to remind myself that I was not in Palestine with them.
Halfway into the book it hit me hard. I really was not in their world. I looked around me, suddenly thrust into my reality, four sturdy walls, a soft bed, a ceiling not ridden with holes, listening to the sound of crickets chirping outside my windows, not bulldozers or guns.
And the it REALLY hit me. This was NOT fiction. These were characters based on real people in real situations. How could I have been so numb, so stupid, as to forget that I was not just reading a piece of fiction, I was in fact reading history. The realization was heartbreaking. When I hear or see the news of Palestine in the media, I am sad for them, but watching these characters who I had placed myself next to go through the actual events put everything in a different light. I could not be the same person after reading this book.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Realisation
I am sitting in my car waiting for Noor to wake up so we can attend a baby shower. I browse Facebook on my phone and someone posted a status about a salah how to chart for kids.
And then it hit me. Up until now my concerns have been making sure she has enough dresses, gets her naps in, has enough playtime with other kids. But so far this has all been the easy stuff right?
As she gets older, how will I teach her right from wrong and modesty in her actions? For now prayer is a fun exercise for her, but how do I convince her it's her entry to jennah? How do I even get her to believe in jennah and the akhirah and look past this life? How can I get her to love the Quran? How do I get her to love learning?
Perhaps the when is as important as the how. When do we parents look past the tickling, play fighting, ABC 's and silly songs? I don't believe in sending our kids to preschool with $20k a year tuition either, but I have not yet decided what will be best for Noor.
I know there is no ONE right answer. And in the grand scheme of all this, it falls back on the nature vs. nurture debate, with no clear conclusion. While I continue to try to work it all out and determine what is going to be best for her,there is one thing I can do right now. I can, God willing, be the best version of me there may be (I hope). I can just be in front of her as an example. Maybe, just maybe, she will pick something up, on her own time. But I won't push it. For now we'll work on mastering wheels on the bus.
Wake up, Sameera
My dear A.A. told me once she read somewhere that sometimes you see people who have passed away in your dreams, that it means that your souls are meeting. It was a sweet and beautiful thought. We stumbled onto this discussion because we were talking about Rehab.
I wonder if it's true. I would imagine my encounter with Rehab to go like this:
"Rehab I missed you so much"
"I missed you too Meera, how have you been?"
"I am good Alhamdulilah"
"Are you sure"
"What do you mean?"
"You are the same person I left behind. How can that be? Have you learned nothing from me?"
And then I'd wake up, and feel the guilt and disappointment in myself all over again. For forgetting the lessons Rehab worked so hard to teach those around her. And losing the gifts she left for me along the way, leaving my compassion behind, forgoing any ounce of patience I may have in me for the impetuousness I am more inclined towards. And most importantly, putting my faith in Allah last in times of need, trying every possible way to ease a situation and asking Allah for help as a last resort, when it should be my first step. How could I forgive myself for forsaking her biggest gift to me: total and utter reliance on Allah. Without this, I stand no chance in this world.
Well, I won't be too ambitious, because I know I may not wake up tomorrow and start building a school from the ground up, or travel to a far away country to help feed the needy. But I will start tonight, God willing. As the Bible states "Charity begins at home." I can do this. So can you.
I wonder if it's true. I would imagine my encounter with Rehab to go like this:
"Rehab I missed you so much"
"I missed you too Meera, how have you been?"
"I am good Alhamdulilah"
"Are you sure"
"What do you mean?"
"You are the same person I left behind. How can that be? Have you learned nothing from me?"
And then I'd wake up, and feel the guilt and disappointment in myself all over again. For forgetting the lessons Rehab worked so hard to teach those around her. And losing the gifts she left for me along the way, leaving my compassion behind, forgoing any ounce of patience I may have in me for the impetuousness I am more inclined towards. And most importantly, putting my faith in Allah last in times of need, trying every possible way to ease a situation and asking Allah for help as a last resort, when it should be my first step. How could I forgive myself for forsaking her biggest gift to me: total and utter reliance on Allah. Without this, I stand no chance in this world.
Well, I won't be too ambitious, because I know I may not wake up tomorrow and start building a school from the ground up, or travel to a far away country to help feed the needy. But I will start tonight, God willing. As the Bible states "Charity begins at home." I can do this. So can you.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Vacation Plus One
I have recently started to appreciate the numerous blessings of travel. To see and experience new places and things, see how diverse our world is. To eat awesome food. Maybe the best part. Having the chance to spend the time traveling with my husband, getting to know each others' likes and dislikes, developing more patience for each other, as we work through the stresses that travel can bring. And finally to come home and appreciate all the comforts I have waiting for me. We have indeed been blessed to have the means and opportunity to travel over the course of our marriage. Not big trips all the time. But even a 1.5 hour drive to Mystic, Ct. was memorable in its' own way.
As the weather heats up in New Jersey, people around me are heading out on "holiday". I guess our generation is still young enough that we associate summer with vacation, as if we were still in school, and with June around the corner, the "summer vacation" bell is ringing loud and clear. My brother left today with his wife for Florida. My friend A.A. and her husband are traipsing around Italy.
We were very fortunate to have just returned from London with our daughter. It was a wonderful 6 days, and I like to look through our 500+ pictures every few days. I don't always do that with vacation pictures, but something's different this time. Our Plus One. Vacations in the past always felt like something was missing. The husband and I would take pictures of each other in front of landmarks, or shyly scour the crowd for a kind stranger who would take our picture, without running away with our camera. It was awkward. And sad, to come home from vacation but look at pictures of each of us alone, as if we were on the trip by ourselves. Where was the proof of all the cool things we did together?
At least this time we had the baby in our pictures, her face capturing the excitement and adventure of our London journey. We even managed a few family pictures, courtesy of my awesome host, A.A.
I thought having a baby would make the journey more difficult, but it was not the case at all. It was nice to plan things for the three of us, and wonderful to see her enjoy herself. It made us enjoy what we were doing even more so.
So to my brother and A.A., take your next vacation with a baby, I promise it will be even more fun ;)
As the weather heats up in New Jersey, people around me are heading out on "holiday". I guess our generation is still young enough that we associate summer with vacation, as if we were still in school, and with June around the corner, the "summer vacation" bell is ringing loud and clear. My brother left today with his wife for Florida. My friend A.A. and her husband are traipsing around Italy.
We were very fortunate to have just returned from London with our daughter. It was a wonderful 6 days, and I like to look through our 500+ pictures every few days. I don't always do that with vacation pictures, but something's different this time. Our Plus One. Vacations in the past always felt like something was missing. The husband and I would take pictures of each other in front of landmarks, or shyly scour the crowd for a kind stranger who would take our picture, without running away with our camera. It was awkward. And sad, to come home from vacation but look at pictures of each of us alone, as if we were on the trip by ourselves. Where was the proof of all the cool things we did together?
At least this time we had the baby in our pictures, her face capturing the excitement and adventure of our London journey. We even managed a few family pictures, courtesy of my awesome host, A.A.
I thought having a baby would make the journey more difficult, but it was not the case at all. It was nice to plan things for the three of us, and wonderful to see her enjoy herself. It made us enjoy what we were doing even more so.
So to my brother and A.A., take your next vacation with a baby, I promise it will be even more fun ;)
(Noor seeing the world through her own eyes at the Museum of Science)
Monday, May 23, 2011
English Fish and Chips in the Garden State
Since being back from London, I have been craving fish and chips. We had it once, and it was quiet delicious. So I scoured the internet for a traditional recipe, hoping for something to recreate the light, crispy, non-oily batter I was treated to in London at Ahmed and Areeg's favorite chip shop. As it had happened many times before, I found what I was looking from one of my favorite Food Network chefs, Tyler Florence.
I tried to be as authentic as possible, so my fish was accompanied by chips (a.k.a. American fries) and mushy peas.
Here is how you can recreate the meal.
Let's start with the chips, which was handled beautifully by my sister. I was skeptical at first when I heard her method, but they turned out delicious.
Peel and slice potatoes into finger sized pieces, about 1/2 inch thick, by 2 1/2 or 3 inches long.
Add to deep fryer, or pot filled with oil you want to deep fry in, WHILE the oil is cold. Turn stove on medium and let potatoes cook several minutes, until almost cooked through.
Turn heat up to medium high, and cook a few minutes more until chips are brown and crispy. Drain on paper towel and season with salt.
On to the fish, courtesy of Tyler Florence, from Food Network. This recipe makes a ton of batter, perhaps enough for 8 pieces, so cut in half if you need to.
Ingredients
Vegetable oil, for deep frying
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 (12-ounce) can soda water
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 (8-ounce) cod or haddock fillets, cut in 1/2 on an angle
1/2 cup flour, for dredging
*Tyler uses rice flour here, instead of regular, but I did not have. I thought mine was still great with the substitution.
Directions
Heat 3 inches of the oil in a deep fryer to 375 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, salt and pepper. Combine soda water and egg and pour into the flour mixture. Whisk to a smooth batter. Spread the flour on a plate. Dredge the fish pieces in the rice flour and then dip them into the batter, letting the excess drip off. Fry the fish and chips for 4 to 5 minutes until crispy and brown. Drain on paper towel, and serve immediately.
One last thing: the mushy peas. The real English mushy peas are some sort of dried peas, soaked overnight...blah blah blah. I bought home a bag of frozen, organic peas, cooked it on the stove top for just a few minutes.
They would have been delicious as is, but I wanted mushy peas so I mushed them. They were still delicious.
Bon appetit.
I tried to be as authentic as possible, so my fish was accompanied by chips (a.k.a. American fries) and mushy peas.
Here is how you can recreate the meal.
Let's start with the chips, which was handled beautifully by my sister. I was skeptical at first when I heard her method, but they turned out delicious.
Peel and slice potatoes into finger sized pieces, about 1/2 inch thick, by 2 1/2 or 3 inches long.
Add to deep fryer, or pot filled with oil you want to deep fry in, WHILE the oil is cold. Turn stove on medium and let potatoes cook several minutes, until almost cooked through.
Turn heat up to medium high, and cook a few minutes more until chips are brown and crispy. Drain on paper towel and season with salt.
On to the fish, courtesy of Tyler Florence, from Food Network. This recipe makes a ton of batter, perhaps enough for 8 pieces, so cut in half if you need to.
Ingredients
Vegetable oil, for deep frying
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 (12-ounce) can soda water
1 large egg, lightly beaten
2 (8-ounce) cod or haddock fillets, cut in 1/2 on an angle
1/2 cup flour, for dredging
*Tyler uses rice flour here, instead of regular, but I did not have. I thought mine was still great with the substitution.
Directions
Heat 3 inches of the oil in a deep fryer to 375 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, salt and pepper. Combine soda water and egg and pour into the flour mixture. Whisk to a smooth batter. Spread the flour on a plate. Dredge the fish pieces in the rice flour and then dip them into the batter, letting the excess drip off. Fry the fish and chips for 4 to 5 minutes until crispy and brown. Drain on paper towel, and serve immediately.
One last thing: the mushy peas. The real English mushy peas are some sort of dried peas, soaked overnight...blah blah blah. I bought home a bag of frozen, organic peas, cooked it on the stove top for just a few minutes.
They would have been delicious as is, but I wanted mushy peas so I mushed them. They were still delicious.
Bon appetit.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
The one regret from my London journey
The title is misleading really. I have few regrets, as my friend Areeg saw to it that we experienced everything there was in the city. It was a busy and tiring few days but it was worth it. From the Tower of London, Harrods, and onwards to the wonderful, amazing (and free) museums, my feet were not happy, but I was.
Especially when I saw what a wonderful time my daughter had. This was Noor's third vacation. At the ripe old age of 14 months, Noor had several stamps in her passport. London was probably the most child friendly city I have ever been in. From old gentlemen, to teenagers, everyone seemed to love and appreciate kids, always turning to smile and play with Noor, and Areeg's daughter Sulafa. At one point a woman and her son were running to catch their train, when they caught Noor's eye. They both stopped to play with her and make her smile, before they went on.
And what a kind city it was. At one point I waited at the top of a stairwell for my husband to help me bring the stroller down, 6 (yes SIX, I counted) people asked me if I needed help bringing it down, including one man who was limping himself. It was a great renewal of faith in the kindness of strangers.
We were fortunate to visit the Mosque of Central London, while not an impressive building from the outside, it was quiet different on the inside.
The East London Mosque on the other hand had a great presence on the outside. But the inside left much to be desired.
At times it felt like we were not in London, but an Arab country. Walking through the parks, we would see groups of women in flowing jilbabs, congregating on the grass, enjoying a picnic lunch. At one point we saw a few girls with a portable hookah in the gardens at Regent's Park. This next picture shows a storefront we walked past a few times. In the midst of expensive hotels and pristine residential buildings on the posh Cromwell Road, it seemed both out of place and right at home at the same time.
So back to my one, teeny, tiny, forgettable regret: I did not eat enough. I wasn't sure what to expect when it came to food, as London does not have a reputation for good food. Though food was an afterthought on our trip, as we were too busy trying to make it to all the sites, I quickly caught onto the fact that while British food was not so desirable, the ethnic food was simply amazing. Especially anything with lamb. I am not a big chicken person, so I can't say if that was as delicious, in fact I did not have chicken once in six days.
We had some fantastic meals, delicious Arab and Pakistani food, classic fish and chips, mushy peas, good sushi. We became addicted to the flat white, a delicious concoction between a cappuccino and a latte, with two shots of espresso. And spent the entire week devouring delicious croissants and pastries, which were as delectable as you would find in the best bakeries in NJ/NYC. Except in London you could find them on any street corner. And how could I forget my first taste of French macaron, amazing cookie type creations. Thank you Areeg for introducing us.
(not my own picture)
But I know I missed out on what is apparently an amazing ethnic food culture. I thought perhaps it was just us who loved the food in London so much, after hearing the opposite from friends. But then my husband told me about an article, where the great Joël Robuchon himself, a man with 25 Michelin stars to his credit, shared my enthusiasm for London cuisine. In an exclusive interview with a London newspaper, The Standard, he said said he 'would argue that London is very possible the gastronomic capital of the world.' If you know who Robuchon is you would know the gravity of that statement. I hope to one day be able to return to London, this time to take the foodie tour of the city. Until then, my mouth waters.
Especially when I saw what a wonderful time my daughter had. This was Noor's third vacation. At the ripe old age of 14 months, Noor had several stamps in her passport. London was probably the most child friendly city I have ever been in. From old gentlemen, to teenagers, everyone seemed to love and appreciate kids, always turning to smile and play with Noor, and Areeg's daughter Sulafa. At one point a woman and her son were running to catch their train, when they caught Noor's eye. They both stopped to play with her and make her smile, before they went on.
And what a kind city it was. At one point I waited at the top of a stairwell for my husband to help me bring the stroller down, 6 (yes SIX, I counted) people asked me if I needed help bringing it down, including one man who was limping himself. It was a great renewal of faith in the kindness of strangers.
We were fortunate to visit the Mosque of Central London, while not an impressive building from the outside, it was quiet different on the inside.
The East London Mosque on the other hand had a great presence on the outside. But the inside left much to be desired.
At times it felt like we were not in London, but an Arab country. Walking through the parks, we would see groups of women in flowing jilbabs, congregating on the grass, enjoying a picnic lunch. At one point we saw a few girls with a portable hookah in the gardens at Regent's Park. This next picture shows a storefront we walked past a few times. In the midst of expensive hotels and pristine residential buildings on the posh Cromwell Road, it seemed both out of place and right at home at the same time.
So back to my one, teeny, tiny, forgettable regret: I did not eat enough. I wasn't sure what to expect when it came to food, as London does not have a reputation for good food. Though food was an afterthought on our trip, as we were too busy trying to make it to all the sites, I quickly caught onto the fact that while British food was not so desirable, the ethnic food was simply amazing. Especially anything with lamb. I am not a big chicken person, so I can't say if that was as delicious, in fact I did not have chicken once in six days.
We had some fantastic meals, delicious Arab and Pakistani food, classic fish and chips, mushy peas, good sushi. We became addicted to the flat white, a delicious concoction between a cappuccino and a latte, with two shots of espresso. And spent the entire week devouring delicious croissants and pastries, which were as delectable as you would find in the best bakeries in NJ/NYC. Except in London you could find them on any street corner. And how could I forget my first taste of French macaron, amazing cookie type creations. Thank you Areeg for introducing us.
(not my own picture)But I know I missed out on what is apparently an amazing ethnic food culture. I thought perhaps it was just us who loved the food in London so much, after hearing the opposite from friends. But then my husband told me about an article, where the great Joël Robuchon himself, a man with 25 Michelin stars to his credit, shared my enthusiasm for London cuisine. In an exclusive interview with a London newspaper, The Standard, he said said he 'would argue that London is very possible the gastronomic capital of the world.' If you know who Robuchon is you would know the gravity of that statement. I hope to one day be able to return to London, this time to take the foodie tour of the city. Until then, my mouth waters.
A new project
My newest project is to write proper, picturesque food blog entries. Please send your critiques my way.
Mercimek Corbasi - Turkish Lentil Soup
I find that lentil soup is almost as universal as rice and meat dishes around the world. There is adas in the Middle East, daal in the South Asian cuisine and in Turkey, Mercimek Corbasi, one of my favorite soups, when made well. I have tried this recipe several times and it always comes out delicious, and always the same. Having a recipe turn out the same way every time is not a gift of mine, so I respect this soup for tasting the same every time. I also appreciate that the soup is made with water, as I do not always have chicken broth on hand and do not like to use dried bouillon cubes, they don't seem entireley natural.
I also made a few tweaks to the original recipe, such as turning down the spice level, but that's entirely up to the cook. I also added one of my favorite ingredients of all time to the recipe, Turkish red pepper paste. It's a delicious, subtle and versatile flavor and I add to almost anything, from meat marinades to curries. I would definitely keep a jar in the house if I were you.
Mercimek Corbasi - Turkish Lentil Soup
Ingredients (servings 6)
- 1 medium sized onion, diced
- 1 medium sized carrot, finely chopped
- 1 medium potato, finely chopped
- 1 cup red lentil
- 6 cups water
- 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes (more or less to taste)
- 1 tsp cumin
- 1 tsp black pepper
- 1 tbsp dried mint
- Salt to taste
- 1 teaspoon red pepper paste
- 2 tbsp olive oil
- 1 tbsp flour
- 1 ½ tbsp butter
Heat olive oil in a pot. Sauté onion, until soft, less than 5 minutes.
Add carrot and potatoes. Saute another 3 minutes.
Wash red lentil, drain and add it to the pot. Saute it for 3 minutes.
Keep stirring. Add spices and salt to taste (go easy on salt, as you can add later). Add the red pepper paste now as well.
Add six cups water, and bring to a boil. Let it cook until the vegetables and lentils get soft enough.If they can easily be mashed when you press with a spoon, it’s done. It takes about 30 minutes over medium heat.
Do not cover the pot during this time as it can rise and overflow.
In a small pan, melt the butter. Add flour and mix it continually. When it becomes creamy, pour it into the pot with lentils.
Depending on how thick you want the soup, blend the soup in a blender, or with a stick blender.
Cook for another five minutes.
Traditionally, this soup is always served with lemon wedges. I also melted a teaspoon of butter, and added to it a tablespoon of olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon dried mint, 1/4 teaspoon paprika. It didn't put it over the top in deliciousness, but it looked pretty on top.
Mercimek Corbasi - Turkish Lentil Soup
I find that lentil soup is almost as universal as rice and meat dishes around the world. There is adas in the Middle East, daal in the South Asian cuisine and in Turkey, Mercimek Corbasi, one of my favorite soups, when made well. I have tried this recipe several times and it always comes out delicious, and always the same. Having a recipe turn out the same way every time is not a gift of mine, so I respect this soup for tasting the same every time. I also appreciate that the soup is made with water, as I do not always have chicken broth on hand and do not like to use dried bouillon cubes, they don't seem entireley natural.
I also made a few tweaks to the original recipe, such as turning down the spice level, but that's entirely up to the cook. I also added one of my favorite ingredients of all time to the recipe, Turkish red pepper paste. It's a delicious, subtle and versatile flavor and I add to almost anything, from meat marinades to curries. I would definitely keep a jar in the house if I were you.
Mercimek Corbasi - Turkish Lentil Soup
Ingredients (servings 6)
- 1 medium sized onion, diced
- 1 medium sized carrot, finely chopped
- 1 medium potato, finely chopped
- 1 cup red lentil
- 6 cups water
- 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes (more or less to taste)
- 1 tsp cumin
- 1 tsp black pepper
- 1 tbsp dried mint
- Salt to taste
- 1 teaspoon red pepper paste
- 2 tbsp olive oil
- 1 tbsp flour
- 1 ½ tbsp butter
Heat olive oil in a pot. Sauté onion, until soft, less than 5 minutes.
Add carrot and potatoes. Saute another 3 minutes.
Wash red lentil, drain and add it to the pot. Saute it for 3 minutes.
Keep stirring. Add spices and salt to taste (go easy on salt, as you can add later). Add the red pepper paste now as well.
Add six cups water, and bring to a boil. Let it cook until the vegetables and lentils get soft enough.If they can easily be mashed when you press with a spoon, it’s done. It takes about 30 minutes over medium heat.
Do not cover the pot during this time as it can rise and overflow.
In a small pan, melt the butter. Add flour and mix it continually. When it becomes creamy, pour it into the pot with lentils.
Depending on how thick you want the soup, blend the soup in a blender, or with a stick blender.
Cook for another five minutes.
Traditionally, this soup is always served with lemon wedges. I also melted a teaspoon of butter, and added to it a tablespoon of olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon dried mint, 1/4 teaspoon paprika. It didn't put it over the top in deliciousness, but it looked pretty on top.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Mother, not martyr
From Suhaibwebb.com. I love the title. I heard from one of my favorite mommies, H.A., with some comments on this article, particularly about how it is difficult for mothers to take this "advice" without having the right support system. What do you think? What do you need from your men to put this into practice and not lose yourselves? I will post my thoughts later.
---
Being a mother is certainly not easy. As Allah describes in the Qur’an, “…in travail upon travail did his mother bear him, and in years twain was his weaning…” (31:14). These travails are often referred to as pregnancy, birthing and nursing. But that is just the beginning.
Mothers are in the daily “trenches” of changing diapers, helping with homework, cooking dinner, disciplining and running between work, picking kids up from school, and soccer games. These daily acts of service to her family can encompass her so completely that she loses balance and perspective of herself. When a woman loses the deeper spiritual significance of motherhood, she may feel that the duty of a mother is to martyr herself for her family by putting everyone else’s needs ahead of her own. But carrying all the burdens and difficulties is not the path to being a good mother. In fact it only depletes a woman, and may even build resentment, making her think that her children and her family “owe” her, as payback for her “martyrdom.”
As the Prophet Muhammad ï·º (Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him) taught us that: “A person’s wealth shall not decrease with charity.” What better charity is there than the charity of a mother helping her family? However, as with all forms of giving, the reward is in the giving, not in what is paid back to us by those we give to. Indeed all forms of giving benefit the donor, when done right.
Motherhood is a journey that allows one to witness the growth of a child as well as instill growth in women by making them stronger and wiser. Allah blesses women with children and in turn mothers make a promise to Allah to nurture children into adulthood. Through the process of parenting children, one realizes that it is also about role modeling a balanced and healthy lifestyle to children. Being a mother is not being a martyr. Rather it is respecting the trust and responsibility of raising children as well as respecting yourself as a strong woman. Children will respect their mothers as women who service their families for the sake of Allah. The responsibility of motherhood makes a woman grow stronger physically, mentally and spiritually because she is tested in all areas. She learns to stretch herself to serve those around her with the ultimate purpose of pleasing Allah, while at the same time not losing herself. A mother should not simply become weaker through her giving, but stronger and more balanced.
Here are six ways mothers can find balance and stay focused in order to get through the tough days of parenting as well as enjoy the journey of motherhood:
1. “I will remind myself daily that my time with my children is precious.” Childhood will end one day and my “baby” will soon be an adult. Our children are changing daily and maturing into an adult. Parenting is celebrating the everyday moments more than focusing on the milestones of our children’s life. Spending quality time with our children and making time to communicate and share with our children is what will be remembered. The mundane activities in our life are the ways we connect daily with our children, so we need to see them more as experiences of connection rather than activities we just need to get through and move on to the next.
2. “I will take care of myself.” Physically, mentally and spiritually. By constantly giving attention to our children and husband, we many times forget to take care of ourselves or we put our needs at the bottom of the list. Some mothers don’t even put themselves on the list at all. But as mothers we can only give as much as we have, and if we do not refill our own tanks then we will have nothing left to give. Taking care of our bodies through exercise is vital for our physical health as well as boosting our overall mood and energy. Spending time exercising is not selfish, unnecessary or extra. It must be seen as a priority in order to be able to do our duty as a mother. Taking care of our mental and spiritual self is also vital because this is the area that is most challenged and drained from us when raising our children. The intention of our daily prayers is to help us refocus and slow down our hectic lives, especially as mothers. Since women are the “heart” of a household, we must find inner peace in order for the family to feel in balance. Finding and sustaining self-confidence and happiness will manifest to our children and husband.
3. “I am not a perfect mother.” Many Muslim mothers have extremely idealistic views of parenting or high expectations of themselves as mothers. Our children do not need us to be perfect and they actually will easily forgive us when we acknowledge our mistakes and show our imperfections. We must accept that we will make mistakes which will be opportunities for us to grow and become smarter moms for future challenges. We need to forgive ourselves and release ourselves of the burden of striving for perfection. We need to eliminate the thinking that other moms have attained perfection and they do everything right. We can only do the best that we can with what we have and we should focus on the things that matter – our relationships with them. Dinners won’t always be amazing, the dishes won’t always be clean, and laundry will pile up, but when our kids become adults they won’t remember any of that; rather they will remember the time they spent and the conversations they had with us.
4. “I will make my marriage a priority.” Children place a huge strain on a marriage, especially for mothers of young children. Many mothers focus entirely on the needs of their children and in the process neglect their relationship with their husband. Physical and emotional exhaustion leave women with little energy left to give to their husband and this attitude of “nothing left to give” can cause disconnection in the marriage. It is vital that we find balance in our marriage alongside parenting because not only is it good for our children to witness a healthy relationship, but it is also good for our mental health. The companionship of a spouse is one that will supersede our relationship with our children, especially as children grow older. We must maintain a loving connection to our spouse so that we can grow old together and be further bonded to one another after the children are grown and married. This means we can’t put our marriage “on hold,” rather we must maintain a bond of friendship and love through the trying times of parenthood. It is vital we spend time alone with our husband so that we can see each other through the lens of a spouse and not only as a caregiver to our children. Going on “date nights” and weekend outings as a couple is vital for the bond to be maintained and sustained.
5. “I will value my friendships.” Connecting and sharing with other women helps us to realize the commonality in our struggles as mothers and women. Having sisters and girlfriends in our life makes us stronger because these relationships nurture us emotionally and help us manage the stress in our lives. Our girlfriends and sisters have a special place in our lives that even our husbands cannot fill or replace. Making time to connect with our friends will help us feel happier and recharged so that we are able to give to our children and husband. Talking to and going out with girlfriends is vital for mothers to boost their connection to other women. It will improve our moods and fill our tanks so that we can give to our children and better connect with our husbands.
6. “I will prioritize family dinners.” Eating together as a family is a daily activity of bonding. Routines in children’s lives can foster a deep sense of security. Creating traditions such as eating together is meaningful to our daily lives because it is a time the family comes together to share their day and connect with one another. Research has shown children who regularly have dinner with their families are more likely to do better and make good choices with regard to friends, drugs and sex. Bringing everyone together daily will create a more communicative family dynamic, and the tradition of food, conversations and joy will be the memories that everyone will cherish
---
Being a mother is certainly not easy. As Allah describes in the Qur’an, “…in travail upon travail did his mother bear him, and in years twain was his weaning…” (31:14). These travails are often referred to as pregnancy, birthing and nursing. But that is just the beginning.
Mothers are in the daily “trenches” of changing diapers, helping with homework, cooking dinner, disciplining and running between work, picking kids up from school, and soccer games. These daily acts of service to her family can encompass her so completely that she loses balance and perspective of herself. When a woman loses the deeper spiritual significance of motherhood, she may feel that the duty of a mother is to martyr herself for her family by putting everyone else’s needs ahead of her own. But carrying all the burdens and difficulties is not the path to being a good mother. In fact it only depletes a woman, and may even build resentment, making her think that her children and her family “owe” her, as payback for her “martyrdom.”
As the Prophet Muhammad ï·º (Allah’s peace and blessings be upon him) taught us that: “A person’s wealth shall not decrease with charity.” What better charity is there than the charity of a mother helping her family? However, as with all forms of giving, the reward is in the giving, not in what is paid back to us by those we give to. Indeed all forms of giving benefit the donor, when done right.
Motherhood is a journey that allows one to witness the growth of a child as well as instill growth in women by making them stronger and wiser. Allah blesses women with children and in turn mothers make a promise to Allah to nurture children into adulthood. Through the process of parenting children, one realizes that it is also about role modeling a balanced and healthy lifestyle to children. Being a mother is not being a martyr. Rather it is respecting the trust and responsibility of raising children as well as respecting yourself as a strong woman. Children will respect their mothers as women who service their families for the sake of Allah. The responsibility of motherhood makes a woman grow stronger physically, mentally and spiritually because she is tested in all areas. She learns to stretch herself to serve those around her with the ultimate purpose of pleasing Allah, while at the same time not losing herself. A mother should not simply become weaker through her giving, but stronger and more balanced.
Here are six ways mothers can find balance and stay focused in order to get through the tough days of parenting as well as enjoy the journey of motherhood:
1. “I will remind myself daily that my time with my children is precious.” Childhood will end one day and my “baby” will soon be an adult. Our children are changing daily and maturing into an adult. Parenting is celebrating the everyday moments more than focusing on the milestones of our children’s life. Spending quality time with our children and making time to communicate and share with our children is what will be remembered. The mundane activities in our life are the ways we connect daily with our children, so we need to see them more as experiences of connection rather than activities we just need to get through and move on to the next.
2. “I will take care of myself.” Physically, mentally and spiritually. By constantly giving attention to our children and husband, we many times forget to take care of ourselves or we put our needs at the bottom of the list. Some mothers don’t even put themselves on the list at all. But as mothers we can only give as much as we have, and if we do not refill our own tanks then we will have nothing left to give. Taking care of our bodies through exercise is vital for our physical health as well as boosting our overall mood and energy. Spending time exercising is not selfish, unnecessary or extra. It must be seen as a priority in order to be able to do our duty as a mother. Taking care of our mental and spiritual self is also vital because this is the area that is most challenged and drained from us when raising our children. The intention of our daily prayers is to help us refocus and slow down our hectic lives, especially as mothers. Since women are the “heart” of a household, we must find inner peace in order for the family to feel in balance. Finding and sustaining self-confidence and happiness will manifest to our children and husband.
3. “I am not a perfect mother.” Many Muslim mothers have extremely idealistic views of parenting or high expectations of themselves as mothers. Our children do not need us to be perfect and they actually will easily forgive us when we acknowledge our mistakes and show our imperfections. We must accept that we will make mistakes which will be opportunities for us to grow and become smarter moms for future challenges. We need to forgive ourselves and release ourselves of the burden of striving for perfection. We need to eliminate the thinking that other moms have attained perfection and they do everything right. We can only do the best that we can with what we have and we should focus on the things that matter – our relationships with them. Dinners won’t always be amazing, the dishes won’t always be clean, and laundry will pile up, but when our kids become adults they won’t remember any of that; rather they will remember the time they spent and the conversations they had with us.
4. “I will make my marriage a priority.” Children place a huge strain on a marriage, especially for mothers of young children. Many mothers focus entirely on the needs of their children and in the process neglect their relationship with their husband. Physical and emotional exhaustion leave women with little energy left to give to their husband and this attitude of “nothing left to give” can cause disconnection in the marriage. It is vital that we find balance in our marriage alongside parenting because not only is it good for our children to witness a healthy relationship, but it is also good for our mental health. The companionship of a spouse is one that will supersede our relationship with our children, especially as children grow older. We must maintain a loving connection to our spouse so that we can grow old together and be further bonded to one another after the children are grown and married. This means we can’t put our marriage “on hold,” rather we must maintain a bond of friendship and love through the trying times of parenthood. It is vital we spend time alone with our husband so that we can see each other through the lens of a spouse and not only as a caregiver to our children. Going on “date nights” and weekend outings as a couple is vital for the bond to be maintained and sustained.
5. “I will value my friendships.” Connecting and sharing with other women helps us to realize the commonality in our struggles as mothers and women. Having sisters and girlfriends in our life makes us stronger because these relationships nurture us emotionally and help us manage the stress in our lives. Our girlfriends and sisters have a special place in our lives that even our husbands cannot fill or replace. Making time to connect with our friends will help us feel happier and recharged so that we are able to give to our children and husband. Talking to and going out with girlfriends is vital for mothers to boost their connection to other women. It will improve our moods and fill our tanks so that we can give to our children and better connect with our husbands.
6. “I will prioritize family dinners.” Eating together as a family is a daily activity of bonding. Routines in children’s lives can foster a deep sense of security. Creating traditions such as eating together is meaningful to our daily lives because it is a time the family comes together to share their day and connect with one another. Research has shown children who regularly have dinner with their families are more likely to do better and make good choices with regard to friends, drugs and sex. Bringing everyone together daily will create a more communicative family dynamic, and the tradition of food, conversations and joy will be the memories that everyone will cherish
Saturday, May 14, 2011
I was right.
I was right. I love London, just like I thought I would.
See everyone back home next week.
See everyone back home next week.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
London Bound
I am going away next week, to see London, Big Ben, walk alongside the Thames River, and wish Kate and William well on their recent marriage (since I missed the wedding). What I am looking forward to most is spending quality time with my dear friend Areeg.
What Areeg is most looking forward to is having proper British afternoon tea. What is afternoon tea? According to a quick google search it is "a light midafternoon meal of tea and sandwiches or cakes; "an Englishman would interrupt a war to have his afternoon tea." I've always wanted to go and what better place to do it than the city where it all began.
It will be our first time, and our concern right now is "what to wear?" So I googled that too: The dress code for traditional afternoon tea is still smart. Ladies don't have to wear dresses, hats and gloves anymore, but gentlemen are required to wear a jacket and tie in most places. Whew, good thing we are not gentleman (and we will not be accompanied by our gentlemen on this outing), but we are fairly certain that our collection of sneakers and comfort shoes will not do. In fact most of my wardrobe is not "smart". It's more "mom." I wish I had a tiny violin right now to lament the state of my wardrobe.
After some thought I've decided to wear a long dress. I will now turn my attention to my sister's closet, since I do not own long dresses. Having sisters is such a blessing, for so many reasons, but I really appreciate the sharing of the wardrobe, the style advice and the often heard back and forth "You're wearing thAt?"
Having sisters is just one of the blessings I've had growing up in a big family. Like most kids, I did not appreciate my family growing up. Many times I was held back from things I wanted to do because my parents wanted to make an example of me. My siblings were able to do everything I did, about 5 years sooner. And I was usually angst ridden, focused on what I could not do, and overlooked what I could do.
In retrospect I was so blessed. I always had a friend (though we were not always friends). Between six children, we were never short on company. In fact, I know at times we desired privacy from each other.
Now that I am a mother, I sometimes tell myself what I would like to do different form my parents. But all in all, I loved the way we were bought up. While we were growing up it all seemed abnormal and crazy, I now see how it was more normal than I could ever hope for. I wish for the same, and even better for my daughter. I pray for a big family for her, so she always has someone by her side, Inshalah.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
To be or not to be..a cynic that is
Without going into the details of who, one of my sisters got a rishta recently. It came from what seems on the surface to be a normal, well educated boy, from a decent, down to earth family. So why is my first thought be "what's the catch?"
I have to thank A.A. for reminding me today of how lucky I was to have had a marriage process that was neither drawn out, difficult nor full of drama. By the mercy of Allah, I married someone who was good for me in every way, bought out the best in me, and continues to do so every day. My mother reminds me of this every day though, so, thank you Mom. I love you.
So why the cynicism? Part of it is because I have wonderful friends and family, perfect in every way, having a hard time getting married. It's not as if they are holding out for a prince. So why are they having so much trouble finding a decent, respecting, religious man? Where are all the good men?
The other part of it is from what is going on in our society today. I wish I could shut my ears and eyes to everything around me. There are pre-marital affairs, extra-marital affairs, abuse, divorces, and all kinds of drama ripping apart the community. Young men and women are going through several relationships, before deciding to just give up. Are people short on faith? Is it a lack of humanism in people, that they turn to the person who should be the most beloved to them and betray them, emotionally or physically? I don't have any insight, but all I know is every time I touch my forehead to the ground I fall short of expressing my gratitude to Allah for all that my loved ones and myself have been blessed with.
Monday, May 2, 2011
On being 3*
This past month, April 1st, I turned 3*. If you don't already know, in addition to being my age, I am two years older than my husband, which I never feel except when I am reminded of it.
I guess I have had a rough couple of weeks with my daughter. She turned one on march 7th, and sleep has become even more elusive. She hasn't been sleeping well at all, often ending up wedged between my husband and myself on our *gasp* queen size bed, in my desperate attempts to lie down for more than one consecutive hour. Getting out of bed constantly was not cutting it. In her defense, she is going throughout a LOT. She just started walking recently and cannot rest for a second; she is a bundle of energy. And then let's not forget her newest additions, two adorable front teeth coming in; she's been pretty miserable at night teething, which means I've been pretty miserable at night. At this point I would do anything for a night of quality sleep. Almost anything.
I didn't know how bad it had gotten until I shared my feelings with two dear friends recently. I asked them if they ever felt as old as I did. They are also in their 30's, but several kids ahead of me, and I have seen them with their kids. Loving, energetic, willing and seemingly able to go to any length to play with, entertain, or even just hang out. And here I am on my first child, feeling overwhelmed more often than not, wondering on some days if I have the energy to take care of her until bedtime. Or hoping someone would come home soon to help keep her busy. And if I am this way now, by the time she is 15, I might as well be following her around with cane. I know of a friend whose father told her "having children ages you", but in my case it seemed to do so exponentially.
Well I want to thank you, M and J, for reminding me that I am ONLY in my thirties. I may feel like this off and on, but it does not mean I am already old. And that one day, inshalah, I may feel young again. In fact you were right. She started sleeping a teensy bit more decent, as did I, and that gave me an extra ounce or two of energy throughout my day. It wasn't much, but a big help.
Bless you both for reminding me that I am not a senior citizen.
However I had a relapse yesterday. I went to sleep shortly after the baby did. Missing what was possibly the biggest news in months: the demise of Osama bin Laden. So note to self: do not sleep at the same time as a one year old. It's just sad.
I guess I have had a rough couple of weeks with my daughter. She turned one on march 7th, and sleep has become even more elusive. She hasn't been sleeping well at all, often ending up wedged between my husband and myself on our *gasp* queen size bed, in my desperate attempts to lie down for more than one consecutive hour. Getting out of bed constantly was not cutting it. In her defense, she is going throughout a LOT. She just started walking recently and cannot rest for a second; she is a bundle of energy. And then let's not forget her newest additions, two adorable front teeth coming in; she's been pretty miserable at night teething, which means I've been pretty miserable at night. At this point I would do anything for a night of quality sleep. Almost anything.
I didn't know how bad it had gotten until I shared my feelings with two dear friends recently. I asked them if they ever felt as old as I did. They are also in their 30's, but several kids ahead of me, and I have seen them with their kids. Loving, energetic, willing and seemingly able to go to any length to play with, entertain, or even just hang out. And here I am on my first child, feeling overwhelmed more often than not, wondering on some days if I have the energy to take care of her until bedtime. Or hoping someone would come home soon to help keep her busy. And if I am this way now, by the time she is 15, I might as well be following her around with cane. I know of a friend whose father told her "having children ages you", but in my case it seemed to do so exponentially.
Well I want to thank you, M and J, for reminding me that I am ONLY in my thirties. I may feel like this off and on, but it does not mean I am already old. And that one day, inshalah, I may feel young again. In fact you were right. She started sleeping a teensy bit more decent, as did I, and that gave me an extra ounce or two of energy throughout my day. It wasn't much, but a big help.
Bless you both for reminding me that I am not a senior citizen.
However I had a relapse yesterday. I went to sleep shortly after the baby did. Missing what was possibly the biggest news in months: the demise of Osama bin Laden. So note to self: do not sleep at the same time as a one year old. It's just sad.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Great perspective
"I'd rather take a thousand small tests than one big test"
Thank you Mona Younes for that great reminder of how lucky we are each and every day.
Thank you Mona Younes for that great reminder of how lucky we are each and every day.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Food gawking :)
I have a daily ritual at the end of my day. I spend a few minutes engaging in what some call food porn, a term I dislike strongly.
It is one of my favorite websites, www.foodgawker.com
I spend some time going through recent recipes, my mouth watering as I carefully study the culinary adventures of people from all over. I envy two things: their courage to take on new foods and their photography skills. The pictures are out of this world; even a boiled egg becomes a thing of beauty in the perfect lighting.
As I peruse the pages, I bookmark every recipe I want to try. The wish list gets longer each day, too long, I'm afraid, to ever get around to cooking it all. Maybe I should take a break from bookmarking, and get cooking.
Today's adventure in food gawking is a constant reminder of Rehab, often bringing back a flood of memories, reminding me of how our love of food bought us to each other. A recipe for braised leeks reminded me of the time she made a dish of baked leeks, with heavy cream and loads of gooey cheese, and her husband ate the entire tray. "Of course it was good, it was covered in cheese."
Another recipe of rhubarb jam reminded me of her fascination with this bizarre celery looking fruit. I eat rhubarb pretty often now, in the form of my strawberry rhubarb jam, and alhamdulilah it reminds me of her every time.
Mini muffins. Rehab would have loved these, in fact anything mini. Eating a falafel earlier today reminded me of her mini falafel sandwiches.One falafel patty stuffed into a tiny cocktail pita. Maybe the taste was not all there, but in true Rehab fashion, the presentation was fantastic.
Then I found a recipe from a blog called Baked, from the authors of the Baked cookbook she gifted my sister on our road trip to Boston. I loved it so much, I bought it for a friend a few weeks later as well.
Somehow I feel as if Rehab is with me tonight. Thank you for that food gawker.
It is one of my favorite websites, www.foodgawker.com
I spend some time going through recent recipes, my mouth watering as I carefully study the culinary adventures of people from all over. I envy two things: their courage to take on new foods and their photography skills. The pictures are out of this world; even a boiled egg becomes a thing of beauty in the perfect lighting.
As I peruse the pages, I bookmark every recipe I want to try. The wish list gets longer each day, too long, I'm afraid, to ever get around to cooking it all. Maybe I should take a break from bookmarking, and get cooking.
Today's adventure in food gawking is a constant reminder of Rehab, often bringing back a flood of memories, reminding me of how our love of food bought us to each other. A recipe for braised leeks reminded me of the time she made a dish of baked leeks, with heavy cream and loads of gooey cheese, and her husband ate the entire tray. "Of course it was good, it was covered in cheese."
Another recipe of rhubarb jam reminded me of her fascination with this bizarre celery looking fruit. I eat rhubarb pretty often now, in the form of my strawberry rhubarb jam, and alhamdulilah it reminds me of her every time.
Mini muffins. Rehab would have loved these, in fact anything mini. Eating a falafel earlier today reminded me of her mini falafel sandwiches.One falafel patty stuffed into a tiny cocktail pita. Maybe the taste was not all there, but in true Rehab fashion, the presentation was fantastic.
Then I found a recipe from a blog called Baked, from the authors of the Baked cookbook she gifted my sister on our road trip to Boston. I loved it so much, I bought it for a friend a few weeks later as well.
Somehow I feel as if Rehab is with me tonight. Thank you for that food gawker.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
My struggle with hijab
Stay with me; by the end of this post I hope to have found some peace with my hijab.
On most days (ok practically everyday) I am bothered by it. The extra piece fabric requires more thought to make simple daily outfits, the challenge to dress myself becoming only more annoying. Running to Trader Joe's for a loaf of bread becomes a public display of religion. Blending in is not easy, as I am often the sore thumb sticking out in a sea of blond, brunette and red. And that's just the part on my head. Hijab encompasses me head to toe, my entire wardrobe, and hence the challenge continues.
Come summer, my life becomes even more difficult. Heat and hijab just don't mix. My general unhappiness only increases.
Over the course of my teenage and adult life, I have always been told nice things about hijab. It's your mark of honor as a Muslim. It's an invitation to non-Muslims to learn about Islam. It's a sign of modesty. It protects you from all sorts of things. But here I am 15 years later, and on most days, I still have trouble coming to terms with wearing hijab. So my conclusion is all these people who have told me these things over the years are not speaking to me. That is not the point of hijab, and that is not why I wear hijab.
I wear it because I have to. It is undoubtedly an order from Allah, and we as His subjects have no choice in the matter. I know many scholars have their reasons about why Allah had chosen hijab for women, such as the ones mentioned earlier.
By the way, my least favorite reason for hijab has always been "because it protects us from men." Why in the world would we have to suffer for the intentions and actions of others? It never made sense to me.
My reasoning takes a different path. I believe we have to wear hijab because, like everything else around us, it is simply a test. This is the part where some girls may object, but I hold that we woman are in constant need of vanity. We like to look beautiful, feel beautiful, be told
we are beautiful. We like to have and hold beautiful things. Our confidence, our comfort in situations, and our self esteem is all tied to how we look, to ourselves and to others. I've known simple girls, girls who aren't into the latest fashions, or purses, or shoes, but even those girls have the need to be appreciated.
Being that Allah created us, He of course knew this fact about us. He took what was precious to us, and is testing us with this fact. Just like He is testing the opposite gender with us. Why put so many beautiful woman on Earth, then tell men to behave with them?
So in conclusion: it's just a test.
P.S. The picture is logo from Pink Hijab Day 2011.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
The workday
I have been applying to jobs here and there, asking former employers to keep an eye out for me. I have days where I thoroughly enjoy being at home, then days where I am down on myself, feeling like a loser because I don't have a job. Then I quickly remind myself, if I can't find a job, it is surely the doing of Allah who is guiding me towards my daughter and the precious time we have together. Alhamdulilah.
And here I am, for the first time since Jan. 2010, at work. It's not permanent, who knows if I'll even be called back, but I am working an 11-7 shift today at CBS News.
I got the call last night around 9 pm. Even though it was late, and I had plans for Sunday, I jumped on it. You see I have not yet resolved what it is I am. A stay at home mom or a working mom?
Even though it's only one day, I am looking forward to reuniting with my daughter in 3 hours, to see the look on her face. Of course I have left her before, but never for this long. Will she welcome me? Or will she be upset, confused, where could I have gone, left her for so long? The clock hand is simply not moving fast enough.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
For all the mommies out there
This is a poem from one of my favorite poets, Khalil Gibran.
Gibran was born in Lebanon in 1883. His family immigrated to Boston, where he began his literary career. Though he was also an artist, he is perhaps best known in the English world for his book "The Prophet."
History lesson is over, here is the poem.
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Gibran was born in Lebanon in 1883. His family immigrated to Boston, where he began his literary career. Though he was also an artist, he is perhaps best known in the English world for his book "The Prophet."
History lesson is over, here is the poem.
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Watch out for the rabbit hole
I'm sure we all know the story of Alice in Wonderland. A young, naive girl who is so curious she falls down a rabbit hole, becoming engulfed in a world of fantasy.
Sounds familiar in our day and age. At some point in our life, we all fall down that rabbit hole. We become curious about something we are unfamiliar with, something we have never experienced, and lean in, hoping for just a taste or a brief touch, only to end up falling in head first.
I've seen it many Muslims around me. It all starts with baby steps, a few innocent moves. In a flash, they are partying, drinking, dating. But they don't know they are doing anything wrong, because the old version of them is buried inside so deep, lost, unable to speak out in protest. And so the fantasy begins, where we tell ourselves to have all the fun we can, pretending that we will not be held accountable.
This is why in our religion we are told to stay away from sins. Even seemingly innocuous acts may be forbidden, as they can and WILL (mark my words) lead to something much worse.
The are many lessons to be learned from this story, which is considered to be one of the best examples of the literary nonsense genre. Another character in the book reminds us "Read the directions and directly you will be directed in the right direction." Wise words Doorknob, wise words indeed. Let's all remember to read the Quran.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Come join the club
My friend Dalal shared this fantastic website recently.
http://growmama.com/
It's an online community for Muslims moms. A club I am proud to be a member of, Alhamdulilah. Please join. Noor needs more friends.
http://growmama.com/
It's an online community for Muslims moms. A club I am proud to be a member of, Alhamdulilah. Please join. Noor needs more friends.
My weight loss secret
Believe it or not I weigh less now than I a little over a year ago. My amazing diet secret is...are you ready for this?... my daughter.
I knew children can be challenging, albeit rewarding, sometimes drive you up the wall, and generally cause your hair to turn gray. But someone should have told me about this very positive side affect. Hearing about how much energy they take, and experiencing it for myself are two entirely different things. My daughter Noor is absolutely non-stop, around the clock ball of fun, wanting constant play and interaction. I find her need for play most rewardng for those of us who love her the most. She loves us back and shows it in her constant smile and laughter. May Allah always keep her smiling.
But I must admit, it it hard for me to remain grateful for this, especially around 4 pm, when my back hurts, and my eyes are getting droopy, and Noor is (of course) full speed ahead. It's time for me to push myself to keep going. Just as if I'm on a treadmill. But weight loss is not my motivation, really. It's that big smile, with those two tiny teeth proudly on display.
I knew children can be challenging, albeit rewarding, sometimes drive you up the wall, and generally cause your hair to turn gray. But someone should have told me about this very positive side affect. Hearing about how much energy they take, and experiencing it for myself are two entirely different things. My daughter Noor is absolutely non-stop, around the clock ball of fun, wanting constant play and interaction. I find her need for play most rewardng for those of us who love her the most. She loves us back and shows it in her constant smile and laughter. May Allah always keep her smiling.
But I must admit, it it hard for me to remain grateful for this, especially around 4 pm, when my back hurts, and my eyes are getting droopy, and Noor is (of course) full speed ahead. It's time for me to push myself to keep going. Just as if I'm on a treadmill. But weight loss is not my motivation, really. It's that big smile, with those two tiny teeth proudly on display.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A visit to the chapel
Last night we had dinner in the city at Persian Grill, declicious Persian food. It's located on 1st ave and 67th street.
Right across from Memorial Sloan Kettering. As I approached the exit for the hospital I felt a tightening of my chest. Coincidentally we parked right in front of it. I could not help but glare at it. Has it changed, is this still the same building where Rehab spent her last few days? Perhaps I dreamt of it, those five days spent shuffling between home and hospital did not happen.
We walked to the restaurant, where we were greeted by the world's slowest servers. As we waited for them to take our orders, I put on my coat, told my husband what to get for me and walked out. I walked down 67th street, with it's parking garage, children's playground and school. A quick left at the corner put me in front of the hospital. The security guard greeted me and asked me what floor I was visiting. I was speechless, so he asked if I was a visitor. "Kind of." Finally I went up to that lobby. I thought perhaps I would see Zaied, sitting alone, or Hend and her husband taking a walk. Or Rehab's mother in law, doing work on her laptop. But it was empty. A ghost town. So I went to the chapel, read Quran and made dua for Rehab and all those in the hospital, before her, and those who were yet to come.
As I stepped outside, I took in the deepest breath I had since we arrived in the city. It was a frigid day, but did not bother me. I was enjoying my ability to breath.
Right across from Memorial Sloan Kettering. As I approached the exit for the hospital I felt a tightening of my chest. Coincidentally we parked right in front of it. I could not help but glare at it. Has it changed, is this still the same building where Rehab spent her last few days? Perhaps I dreamt of it, those five days spent shuffling between home and hospital did not happen.
We walked to the restaurant, where we were greeted by the world's slowest servers. As we waited for them to take our orders, I put on my coat, told my husband what to get for me and walked out. I walked down 67th street, with it's parking garage, children's playground and school. A quick left at the corner put me in front of the hospital. The security guard greeted me and asked me what floor I was visiting. I was speechless, so he asked if I was a visitor. "Kind of." Finally I went up to that lobby. I thought perhaps I would see Zaied, sitting alone, or Hend and her husband taking a walk. Or Rehab's mother in law, doing work on her laptop. But it was empty. A ghost town. So I went to the chapel, read Quran and made dua for Rehab and all those in the hospital, before her, and those who were yet to come.
As I stepped outside, I took in the deepest breath I had since we arrived in the city. It was a frigid day, but did not bother me. I was enjoying my ability to breath.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Jam reminds me of Allah's blessings. And life reminds me of death.
Recently I have found what I consider to be the best jam I have ever tasted. Ever. It has only 4 ingredients. Strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, acid. It's that simple. It's comes from a chef in New York City,Sarabeth. Aptly, the jam is named Sarabeth's.
By the way, did you ever hear Rehab talk about rhubarb? Thanks to a Jamie Oliver cookbook chapter, she was obsessed with it for a short while, trying to buy it (as it was not an easy supermarket buy), looking for rhubarb recipes. I can't remember if she ever got around to making it. But I bet Zaied would remember, as he was often her taste tester. Lucky him ;). If anyone would have appreciated this jam as much as me, it would be Rehab.
Anyways back to this jam. It's sold in select supermarkets for *gasp* $9.99! Sometimes it's on the same shelf as Smuckers, which is a quarter of the price. I know that the price is preposterous, but I have only bought it a handful of times, on sale for $6.99. You are probably thinking what's the big deal, it's only $7.
But to have this jam is a reminder to me of all the blessings from Allah. That I am able to go safely and conveniently buy it. That I can have it whenever I want. That I am able to spend that amount of money on a condiment, without thinking twice about it's weight on my (however meager) pocketbook. It's much more than jam. Alhamdulillah.
Now onto the second part of the title. Before I begin, let me tell you that today, march 24, 2011, my daughter Noor started praying. She held onto the ottoman, for the earlier prayer, and later the sofa, and bowed down repeatedly, mimicking my ruku. And she mouthed non-words, I guess her version of the Quran. It's so amazing how kids pick up everything we do.
So Noor recently turned one. What a blessing she has been over the past year, full of life, love, energy, and so much more. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined her to be the way she is, let alone thought to ask Allah for such a beautiful, tiny being.
I distinctly remember an afternoon about a month ago, when Rehab was not yet in the hospital. Noor was playing on the bed with some toys, jumping on me from time to time for a hug and a kiss. I can still feel how my heart ached, and my eyes began to sting as I realized Rehab does not have this. I begged Allah to give her something to love as much as I loved my own daughter. I pleaded and rationalized with Him how her and Zaied would be such excellent parents, that this world really needed them to put some great kids amongst us.
But in my moment of weakness, I overlooked His power and mercy. I doubted (may Allah forgive me) that what Allah gives, or doesn't give, is with reasons beyond our understanding. And I forgot that every soul will get what he or she deserves, that Allah is most just.
I am slowly realizing that Rehab's passing was a blessing to her. Why was I asking for her to have a child in this world, when I know that any being here would pale in beauty and perfection to her family in Jennah.
All I ask for now is to have many, many playdates with her in Jennah inshalah.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Leggings are not pants
Age old debate. Not.
Here are some links, the second one is particularly humorous.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bunmi-zalob/leggings-are-not-pants-an_b_761958.html?ref=fb&src=sp
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1946405
Is it so hard to see the bad in something, when all we want to do is fit in?
Here are some links, the second one is particularly humorous.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bunmi-zalob/leggings-are-not-pants-an_b_761958.html?ref=fb&src=sp
http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1946405
Is it so hard to see the bad in something, when all we want to do is fit in?
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Spring is in the air
Goodness gracious today was the most perfect spring day. It was 60 degrees, the park was full of moms and kids, but not too crowded. It was the first official day at the park for toddler Noor, who is now a one year old, by the grace of Allah. She is learning to walk, so no crawling, no picking up, no stroller, and no even to her neat little tricycle. Noor the one year old will only accept your hand if you help her walk. I am grateful my three sisters were there to help her walk, or I would have been even more exhausted than I am. It was a beautiful day spent with my beautiful family and dear friends and their sweet kids.
But as my day wraps up I reflect on the fact that it's been just under two weeks since Rehab has passed away. I miss her dearly. If she were here, I know we would be making plans for a picnic, perhaps searching for the perfect picnic basket, trying to make the perfect egg salad sandwich to go in it. My problem is not that it's been hard for me; the problem is it's been too easy. I don't know how to fix this. I don't even know what to make of it. Am I that shallow? Why am I so easily distracted by this world that I can go on almost like nothing has happened? And how can I forget the biggest lesson I learned from Rehab; that every second is a blessing from Allah. How dare I forget this when I spend practically every second of my day with my daughter, who is a blessing beyond words. Perhaps I forget because I am so caught up in the moment, enjoying myself, having fun. So I wonder, what would Rehab do?
But as my day wraps up I reflect on the fact that it's been just under two weeks since Rehab has passed away. I miss her dearly. If she were here, I know we would be making plans for a picnic, perhaps searching for the perfect picnic basket, trying to make the perfect egg salad sandwich to go in it. My problem is not that it's been hard for me; the problem is it's been too easy. I don't know how to fix this. I don't even know what to make of it. Am I that shallow? Why am I so easily distracted by this world that I can go on almost like nothing has happened? And how can I forget the biggest lesson I learned from Rehab; that every second is a blessing from Allah. How dare I forget this when I spend practically every second of my day with my daughter, who is a blessing beyond words. Perhaps I forget because I am so caught up in the moment, enjoying myself, having fun. So I wonder, what would Rehab do?
Monday, March 14, 2011
Rehab's Voice
I listened to this blast from the past this morning.
http://eliegardner.com/rehab/
I've heard it before, years ago, when Rehab and I googled our names to see what came up.
My sister asked me how many time I've listened to it recently. So far: 1
What I learned was I have been pronouncing homogeneous wrong all these years. Thank you for correcting me Rehab.
http://eliegardner.com/rehab/
I've heard it before, years ago, when Rehab and I googled our names to see what came up.
My sister asked me how many time I've listened to it recently. So far: 1
What I learned was I have been pronouncing homogeneous wrong all these years. Thank you for correcting me Rehab.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
For the love of sleep
Not mine. I'm talking about my daughter. We had one of those mornings, where she woke up yawning, and continued to fight going down for a nap for a long time.
Its strange that my daughter taking a nap refreshes me. I guess because in the time she sleeps, I get a little rest, do some work, (write a blog). And also because I know (God willing) she will wake up happy and cheerful.
Her sleep at night is another story. You know when you are studying for an exam and stay up for two nights, cramming? You are all but salivating at the thought of the sleep you are going to indulge in once the exam is over? Well that's how I feel. Except I have been waiting for that sleep for 12 months now.
Really it's all okay. My daughter is the biggest blessing in my life, and as I look around me, I also feel that she is also my biggest reminder of Allah. She never let's me forget for one second that Allah has blessed me in a million ways, and then tiny tests I get throughout my day are nothing. But I pray that they do help me rack up some good deeds.
When I put my forehead for the ground in prayer, I have a steady stream of duas (prayers) I make everyday. After Rehab passed away, I had to think twice about my duas, for example my request for Allah to cure Rehab was replaced with "give her family patience and reunite us in heaven". As I moved down my list I realized that so much of my dua was focused in the wrong place. I should be asking for more to benefit me towards my afterlife, less in this life. But it was hard to change. I am too scared to being without the blessings I have become accustomed to, I am too fearful of being tested.
Ya Allah give us the strength to face what may come our way, and the patience to endure it, even if we may not be able to see the good in it.
Its strange that my daughter taking a nap refreshes me. I guess because in the time she sleeps, I get a little rest, do some work, (write a blog). And also because I know (God willing) she will wake up happy and cheerful.
Her sleep at night is another story. You know when you are studying for an exam and stay up for two nights, cramming? You are all but salivating at the thought of the sleep you are going to indulge in once the exam is over? Well that's how I feel. Except I have been waiting for that sleep for 12 months now.
Really it's all okay. My daughter is the biggest blessing in my life, and as I look around me, I also feel that she is also my biggest reminder of Allah. She never let's me forget for one second that Allah has blessed me in a million ways, and then tiny tests I get throughout my day are nothing. But I pray that they do help me rack up some good deeds.
When I put my forehead for the ground in prayer, I have a steady stream of duas (prayers) I make everyday. After Rehab passed away, I had to think twice about my duas, for example my request for Allah to cure Rehab was replaced with "give her family patience and reunite us in heaven". As I moved down my list I realized that so much of my dua was focused in the wrong place. I should be asking for more to benefit me towards my afterlife, less in this life. But it was hard to change. I am too scared to being without the blessings I have become accustomed to, I am too fearful of being tested.
Ya Allah give us the strength to face what may come our way, and the patience to endure it, even if we may not be able to see the good in it.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Taking it back (sort of)
I am about to hit the sack but I don't feel good about my last post. The truth is I'm not denial or anything like that. I hope.
But I cannot reconcile the emails/posts/articles about this amazing Rehab, who has become a lesson to those living, with the Rehab in my head. Yes, of course she is an amazing individual. But she was also just my Rehab. My dear, sweet, innocent Rehab who would give anyone the shirt off her back if she thought they needed it. Who bought cookbooks for the pictures, and obsessed over chicken Saab and pretty lamps.
I'm not going to lie, I feel possessive of her and her memory. So whenever I sign onto facebook and see a new article about her, I think to myself "that's not MY Rehab.". My Rehabbie is with me.
But I cannot reconcile the emails/posts/articles about this amazing Rehab, who has become a lesson to those living, with the Rehab in my head. Yes, of course she is an amazing individual. But she was also just my Rehab. My dear, sweet, innocent Rehab who would give anyone the shirt off her back if she thought they needed it. Who bought cookbooks for the pictures, and obsessed over chicken Saab and pretty lamps.
I'm not going to lie, I feel possessive of her and her memory. So whenever I sign onto facebook and see a new article about her, I think to myself "that's not MY Rehab.". My Rehabbie is with me.
Rehab who?
This past Sunday, March 6 2011, a day before my daughter turned one, I lost a dear friend. Within 24 hours, I faced with a heartbreaking loss and tried my best to appreciate the life and blessing that is my first daughter. I did not do either one justice.
Over the past week, there have been Facebook pages and messages dedicated to Rehab El-Buri, countless articles, a foundation started up in her name and much more. I've read all over the Internet "What an inspiring person", "I did not know her personally, but wish I had", as people described her as pious, faithful, generous, patient, dedicated, and all kinds of amazingness. And sure, mashalah, she was all that. I have no doubt that she died clear of sins and will be in the highest level of heaven. But the more I read about her online, the greater the divide grew in my head. This incredible woman people keep talking about online, she sounds great, but she's not my Rehab. She cant be, because my Rehab is here in this duniya with me. I just saw her, remember we drove down south together (ok it was only 35 minutes away, but we agreed anything past Newark in south). We talked about my hate for navigation systems and her utter dependence on them (when she first moved to NJ). Who is the Rehab they keep talking about? And Rehab, when are we going to give persian food another try?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)