Carry Me In Your Arms...

When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I've got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to say it. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the topic calmly. She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She shouted at me, " you are not a man!" That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; I had lost my heart to a lovely girl called Dew. I didn't love her anymore. I just pitied her! With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which stated that she could own our house, 30% shares of my company and the car. She glanced at it and then tore it to pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said, for I loved Dew so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me, her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now. The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell fast asleep because I was tired after an eventful day with Dew. When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did'nt care so I turned over and was asleep again. In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month, we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage. This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that everyday for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request. I told Dew about my wife's divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she has, she has to face the divorce, she said scornfully. My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, don't tell our son about the divorce. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for the bus to work. I drove alone to the office. On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest.. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her. On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn't tell Dew about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses have grown bigger. I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me, .. she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head. Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it's time to carry mum out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come close and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn't noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove to office... jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind... I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door and I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I do not want the divorce anymore. She looked at me, astonished. Then touched my forehead. Do you have a fever? She said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of our lives, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I realized that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until one of us departs this world. Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The sales girl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote: I ll carry you out every morning until we are old. The small details of our lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, the property, the bank balance that matters. These create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse's friend and do those little things for each other that build a relationship. Author: Unknown Courtesy: www.everymuslim.net

Greatest Power...

The Park Bench...

The Park Bench

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read
Under the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown
For the world was intent on dragging me down

And if that weren't enough, to ruin my day
A young boy approached me, all tired from play

He stood right before me with his head tilted down
And said with great excitement, "Look what I found!"

In his hand was a flower, and what a pitiful sight
With its petals all worn - not enough rain, or too little light
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play
I faked a small smile and then shifted away

But instead of retreating he sat next to my side
And placed the flower to his nose
And declared with overacted surprise

"It sure smells pretty and it's beautiful, too.
That's why I picked it; here, it's for you."
The weed before me was dying or dead
Not vibrant of colours: orange, yellow or red

But I knew I must take it, or he might never leave
So I reached for the flower and said, "Just what I need."

 But instead of him placing the flower in my hand
He held it mid-air, without reason or plan

It was then that I noticed for the very first time
That weed-toting boy could not see: he was blind

I heard my voice quiver; tears shone in the sun
As I thanked him for picking the very best one
"You're welcome," he smiled, and then ran off to play
Unaware of the impact he'd had on my day

I sat there and wondered how he managed to see
A self-pitying person beneath an old willow tree
How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he'd been blessed with true sight

Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see
The problem was not with the world; the problem was me

 And for all of those times, I myself had been blind
I vowed to appreciate every second that's mine

And then I held that wilted flower up to my nose
And breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful rose
I smiled at the young boy with another weed in his hand
About to change the life of an unsuspecting old man

Author: Unknown

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Tears in my eyes...

Tears in my eyes. . . .

Since I was born I suffered from Eczema on my hands and arms and now I am 22 years of age and still suffering from such disease. Alhamdulillah it goes for a while but it comes back infected and inflamed.

I always looked around me and saw other people's hands and arms in perfect condition and I would go back home and cry so much that my tears would fill a bucket. I was bullied so much in Secondary School because of my Eczema and I was treated like dirt and abused because of my belief in Islam. One day in class I cried for over an hour my eyes stung because of the class saying abusive things to me and the teacher did NOTHING because he hated my faith which was apparent. Since I was small I always held the Quran each night and begged Allah for my suffering to end. Even as I write this my eyes are full of tears. As I grew up my passion to marry grew. I always wanted to have a child to raise for the mercy of Allah. But because of my suffering from Eczema that always stopped me from marrying.

One day in College I saw a really beautiful Sister in Hijab from Lebanon (I think) and I wanted to marry her, but because of my Eczema I thought she would not want to even look at me. By Allah, through Halal ways she rejected me which I feel in my heart was because of my hands. I feel so alone sometimes. I suffer SO much that I cannot go outside unless my sleeves of my shirt cover most of my hands. I cannot make Salat in the Masjid without worrying that someone is going to look at my hands and not want to shake them or that they will give me a bad look. I cannot eat outside or be with my friends without feeling worried that they are going to see my hands.

When I do Wudu with water, my hands sting so much I cry. After Wudu I will make my Salat trying to blot out the pain that I am going through with my hands. I feel no Muslim Sister will ever marry me but I try to keep strong about it. My only wife I want is a wife of Paradise. I wish I was with Prophet Ayub (AS) as he suffered a lot and I would not feel alone as he would be with me worshipping Allah. My only dream now is to work hard and to die only for Allah.
Please Brothers and Sisters of Islam make Du'a for me and for all Muslims suffering from illness's that they keep strong. I take this as a blessing from Allah as Allah tests those whom he truly loves.

About three year ago I was sinking into severe depression. I was suffering so much and everything was just sinking deeper and deeper. I would stay up every night just worshipping Allah, begging him for mercy and help. I really thought that Allah abandoned me and hated me.


Then one summer was a summer I would never forget. For six weeks in a row I had dreams that words would never be able to describe in 100% detail. The dreams are too much to mention. But one of the first was when I was standing on a red land, and then two Muslim men with large dark beards approached me. They asked me do I want to see Hell? I said to them yes. They smiled and I then followed them. In front of me was like a Hugh head with a wide open mouth. I can still picture this in my mind but I can never really describe it as it was so detailed. We went through its mouth and in it were all types of chambers of black fire. I saw people lying on their bellies on beds of spikes penetrating though their bodies while they were screaming. Another chamber I saw people being crushed again and again in fire. Another I saw their limbs being pulled off. After a few more chambers we left and one of the Muslim's said to me, "Is your life worse than what you saw?" I said, "By Allah, no."

The best dream is of Prophet Muhammad (SAW). In the dream I was sitting in a dark room crying. Suddenly a gold door appeared in front of me. The door said to me, "Don't cry and come inside.” When I went in, I was in such a beautiful garden. There were all sorts of flowers and different colored streams of water and honey. I heard laughing and talking further on, so I walked through this garden, and each step I took the garden just got more beautiful and different in colour. I saw a really bright gold table with food I have never seen before on this table. There were sweets and different shapes of fruit on the table. There were also crystal cups with drinks with at least 100 different shades of colour .Sitting around the table were all extremely handsome looking Muslims.
I saw one Muslim holding a staff in his right hand so I was thinking that could be Musa (AS) , and then another Muslim I saw with long wavy hair with pearls falling from his head, so I was thinking that was 'Isa (AS) . There were at least 100 Muslims around this table. At the head of the table a Muslim turned around and faced me. Mashahallah I will never forget his face. His eyes were darker than black pearls and there was a beautiful light shining from his face. As he smiled at me I felt this warmth and this sweet smelling musk go over my body. He said Assalamualikum to me and called me by my full name. I asked him who he was. He said, "I am the final Messenger of Allah and my name is Muhammad Ibn Abdullallah (SAW). I want you to sit next to me."

A gold chair appeared next to him so I sat there facing him. He took my hand in his hand. It felt so warm and nice. He said something that even made me cry in my sleep. He said, "Don’t cry because of the hardships of this life. Cry for the forgiveness of Allah. Don't cry and feel sad for Allah will never leave you alone to suffer. He is with the believer who calls his name. He smiles to the believer who repents. He loves the believer who runs to him in struggle. And on The Day that is coming, you will see how much love and comfort He gives to those Muslims who suffered for Him."

I closed my eyes and then I woke up with tears all down my face. . .

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Aint the last part just so beautiful?

Children Learn What They Live...



Eight things to learn..

Eight Things to Learn

One time a scholar asked one of his students, "You have spent a long time with me, what have you learned?"

He said I learned eight things:
First, I looked to the creation. Everyone has a loved one. When he goes to the grave, he leaves his loved one. Therefore, I made my loved one my good deeds; that way, they will be with me in the grave.

Second, I looked to the verse, "But as for him who feared to stand before his Lord and restrained his soul from lust," therefore, I struggled against my desires so I could stay obeying Allah.

Third, I saw that if anyone has something with him that is worth something, he will protect it. Then I thought about the verse,"That which you have is wasted away; and that which is with Allah remains," therefore, everything worth something with me I devoted to Him so it would be with Him for me.

Fourth, I saw the people seeking wealth, honour and positions and it was not worth anything to me. Then I thought about Allah's words, "Lo, the noblest of you in the sight of Allah is the most aware of Allah, so I did my best to become aware of Allah in order to gain nobility in his sight.

Fifth, I saw the people being jealous towards each other and I looked at the verse, "We have apportioned among them their livelihood in the life of the world", so I left jealousy.

Sixth, I saw the people having enmity and I thought about the verse, "Lo, the devil is an enemy for you, so take him as an enemy", so I left enmity and I took the Satan as my only enemy.

Seventh, I saw them debasing themselves in search of sustenance and I thought about the verse, "And there is not a beast in the earth but the sustenance thereof depends on Allah", so I kept myself busy with my responsibilities toward Him and I left my property with Him.

Eighth, I found them relying on their business, buildings and health and I thought about the verse, "And whosoever puts his trust in Allah, He will suffice him", therefore, I put my trust only on Allah.

Translated by: Jamal Zarabozo

If you want the Rainbow, you got to put up with the rain....

The Cold Within...

  The Cold Within

 

Six men trapped by circumstances
In bleak and bitter cold

Each one possessed a stick of wood
Or so the story told

Their dying fire in need of logs
The first man held his back
For of the faces around the fire
He noticed one man black

The next man looking across the way
Saw one not of his sect
So couldn't bring himself to give
The chopped wood which he kept

The third one sat in tattered clothes
He gave his coat a hitch
Why should his log be put to use
To warm the 'selfish rich'?

The rich man just sat quietly back
And thought of the wealth he had in store
And how to keep what he had earned
From the 'lazy, shiftless poor'

The black man's face bespoke revenge
As the fire passed from his sight
For all he saw in his stick of wood
Was a chance to spite the white

The last man of this forlorn group
Did naught except for gain
Giving only to those who gave
Was how he played the game

Their logs held tight in death's still hand
Was proof of human sin
They didn't die from the cold without
They died from the cold within

Walls and Bridges

Assalamu Alaikum

A Deep Quote

Fighting for Jannah