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.

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.