A brother once had reached that stage in life in which, to use the perennial dictum, ’there was only one thing on his mind’. It had affected him to such a degree that it threatened the legitimacy of his progression; the sincerity of his actions; the motive of his wisdom. A day would not pass but that he was in constant fear. Fear of losing his hopes, his aspirations, and God forbid, his religion.
His companions knew too well his ailments. They themselves had gone through it. Yet here, with this brother, was something new. No one had expected him to fall prey to such priorities; he was too smart, too intelligent, too clever!
His CV was impressive. He was an educated and dexterous man. He didn’t possess wealth, yet those who knew him, knew he possessed potential. He had his career fixed, his retirement determined.
But why was he finding it so difficult to get married?
He was a confident man who practiced Islam to what he thought was an amiable degree. He didn’t pray fives times a day, nor read the Quran with any regularity, but he was ‘working on it‘. He did want a practicing spouse, but his priority was beauty; the girl had to be pretty: tall, fair, blue eyes, long hair, elegant…
He searched for his spouse for some time. He explored as many avenues as he could find and put everyone to the task, but there was no joy. His expectations were just too high. Some he said ‘no’, but mostly, when his eyes found comfort in what he saw, they rejected him.
For a while he went on looking. Searching for that one girl who would please his eyes. But she was not found. Till one day, it daunted on him: what if he wasn’t pretty enough? What if they had rejected him for his looks?
The brother soon realised he was no prince. He was an average looking man. Tall, dark, but perhaps not so handsome! The discovery turned his sadness to depression. What was he to do? How can he change his looks? Who will marry him?
Notwithstanding, he went on looking. He would throw proposals at every corner, hoping it would be caught by a beautiful girl. But it didn’t happen. The years of rejection weakened his heart. Woeful sorrow became his companion, and seeing an opening, Shaytan presented a new path: disobedience.
His nights now became days. The hair on his face which hadn’t seen a blade for years, fell to the floor. His company were no longer just male; his trousers found new length; liquor was now his medicine; and even his walk displayed an arrogance which he himself would never have dreamed possible. His Islam was all but lost.
But the new liberty didn’t bring him happiness. The pretty girl still remained elusive. He still remained ugly! One day, however, an ‘old’ acquaintance grabbed his attention. The brother was on his way to a seminar on ‘Love in Islam’. He requested his presence and our friend, not knowing why, obliged. The lecture itself didn’t present anything new. He was well versed in the sciences of love. That was after all, what he always wanted. Yet towards the end, the shaykh mentioned a story of how a man had nothing left in his life except a minuscule grain of imaan with which he would correct his character, hoping that through it, God will grant him happiness. God so loved his intention and sincerity that he did indeed grant the man happiness and prosperity both in this life and next.
Our friend was so inexplicably touched by these words that a shiver of new found determination ran through his entire body. He was to forget about his woes and return to the obedience that he once knew well. He was to regain his Islam.
The brother changed his ways. His ‘old’ companions, being amazed with the degree of his new found piety, renewed their allegiance. He became a humble man, lowered his gaze and only spoke when necessary. Yet even when he spoke, he would begin with God’s name, which most could not understand. He smiled at strangers and offered assistance when it was not needed. He never raised his voice, but only said, ‘I seek refuge in Allah’. The hairs on his face were now firmly established, and even the clothing about his body, though not cheap, displayed that air of humility only akin to men of pure faith. He had truly become a Muslim.
The brother was still unmarried, but that thought was now a distant recollection. He went about his ways only hoping for God’s pleasure, till one day a colleague offered news of a new beginning. She was a messenger bringing glad tidings of a proposal from a new sister. Our friend was so busy with repentance that he had not noticed a new workforce. But the new sister did notice him. She did notice him.
The brother, fearing God’s displeasure asked to meet only in her guardian’s company, so the necessities were arranged. Our friend was fearful, not because he was nervous, but because it brought back memories of sadness, depression, insanity, and above all, disobedience to the Creator. His fears were soon swoon away. When he saw the sister his eyes lit up with sparkles of disbelief: She was beautiful!
They talked and he found her to be a pious woman. Not wishing to allow Shaytan to find another opening, he agreed and a few months later, it was all done. Our friend was at last married!
A day after the blessed event, the brother asked her: ‘Why did you marry someone so ugly as myself?’ She replied, ‘I saw BEAUTY in your character!’
His companions knew too well his ailments. They themselves had gone through it. Yet here, with this brother, was something new. No one had expected him to fall prey to such priorities; he was too smart, too intelligent, too clever!
His CV was impressive. He was an educated and dexterous man. He didn’t possess wealth, yet those who knew him, knew he possessed potential. He had his career fixed, his retirement determined.
But why was he finding it so difficult to get married?
He was a confident man who practiced Islam to what he thought was an amiable degree. He didn’t pray fives times a day, nor read the Quran with any regularity, but he was ‘working on it‘. He did want a practicing spouse, but his priority was beauty; the girl had to be pretty: tall, fair, blue eyes, long hair, elegant…
He searched for his spouse for some time. He explored as many avenues as he could find and put everyone to the task, but there was no joy. His expectations were just too high. Some he said ‘no’, but mostly, when his eyes found comfort in what he saw, they rejected him.
For a while he went on looking. Searching for that one girl who would please his eyes. But she was not found. Till one day, it daunted on him: what if he wasn’t pretty enough? What if they had rejected him for his looks?
The brother soon realised he was no prince. He was an average looking man. Tall, dark, but perhaps not so handsome! The discovery turned his sadness to depression. What was he to do? How can he change his looks? Who will marry him?
Notwithstanding, he went on looking. He would throw proposals at every corner, hoping it would be caught by a beautiful girl. But it didn’t happen. The years of rejection weakened his heart. Woeful sorrow became his companion, and seeing an opening, Shaytan presented a new path: disobedience.
His nights now became days. The hair on his face which hadn’t seen a blade for years, fell to the floor. His company were no longer just male; his trousers found new length; liquor was now his medicine; and even his walk displayed an arrogance which he himself would never have dreamed possible. His Islam was all but lost.
But the new liberty didn’t bring him happiness. The pretty girl still remained elusive. He still remained ugly! One day, however, an ‘old’ acquaintance grabbed his attention. The brother was on his way to a seminar on ‘Love in Islam’. He requested his presence and our friend, not knowing why, obliged. The lecture itself didn’t present anything new. He was well versed in the sciences of love. That was after all, what he always wanted. Yet towards the end, the shaykh mentioned a story of how a man had nothing left in his life except a minuscule grain of imaan with which he would correct his character, hoping that through it, God will grant him happiness. God so loved his intention and sincerity that he did indeed grant the man happiness and prosperity both in this life and next.
Our friend was so inexplicably touched by these words that a shiver of new found determination ran through his entire body. He was to forget about his woes and return to the obedience that he once knew well. He was to regain his Islam.
The brother changed his ways. His ‘old’ companions, being amazed with the degree of his new found piety, renewed their allegiance. He became a humble man, lowered his gaze and only spoke when necessary. Yet even when he spoke, he would begin with God’s name, which most could not understand. He smiled at strangers and offered assistance when it was not needed. He never raised his voice, but only said, ‘I seek refuge in Allah’. The hairs on his face were now firmly established, and even the clothing about his body, though not cheap, displayed that air of humility only akin to men of pure faith. He had truly become a Muslim.
The brother was still unmarried, but that thought was now a distant recollection. He went about his ways only hoping for God’s pleasure, till one day a colleague offered news of a new beginning. She was a messenger bringing glad tidings of a proposal from a new sister. Our friend was so busy with repentance that he had not noticed a new workforce. But the new sister did notice him. She did notice him.
The brother, fearing God’s displeasure asked to meet only in her guardian’s company, so the necessities were arranged. Our friend was fearful, not because he was nervous, but because it brought back memories of sadness, depression, insanity, and above all, disobedience to the Creator. His fears were soon swoon away. When he saw the sister his eyes lit up with sparkles of disbelief: She was beautiful!
They talked and he found her to be a pious woman. Not wishing to allow Shaytan to find another opening, he agreed and a few months later, it was all done. Our friend was at last married!
A day after the blessed event, the brother asked her: ‘Why did you marry someone so ugly as myself?’ She replied, ‘I saw BEAUTY in your character!’
), and three Jamaats. One from England, another from Paterson, and another from Pescatoway (?). And so we were all sleeping in the small masjid (the masjid is actaully large, but there's a smaller masjid room in which we do Salat for when there are small amounts of people), and so the next day, we woke up for Fajr. And so I took my Miswak and headed towards the basement Wudhu room, and the Uncle was there too, along with other people doing Wudhu. And so I saw that he was also using a Miswak to brush his teeth when he woke up, Mashallah and I knew that he was a good practicing Muslim, because only a Muslim with alot of faith or enough faith to want to practice the Sunnah of Rasullallah (SAW) and make sacrifices would use a Miswak when they wake up from sleep, because most people feel dishusted by it and think that the stench in a person's mouth remains even after they use Miswak, and it might, but for those who Allah Ta Alla gave strong Eman and faith, and those who DO have strong Eman and faith, Allah Ta Alla will reward them, and be pleased with them for making their sacrifices, and will give them something EVEN BETTER than what they sacrificed, Mashallah.
