<\/i><\/div>\n
Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah. Sometimes I wonder to myself if I am a person who writes, or if I am a writer. \u00a0Then I have a story that forms itself completely in my head, and there\u2019s nothing I can to relieve the tension but write it down. \u00a0This is one of those stories that convinces me that I am a writer because I MUST write. \u00a0I had been reading some status updates that were kind of down on marriage, down on the male side of marriage, that is, and this came to me. \u00a0Now, I\u2019m not a man-basher and this domestic situation does NOT reflect how my husband treats me. \u00a0I have to say that up front because some of you out there will say \u201cAha! \u00a0She\u2019s in a bad patch!\u201d \u00a0It\u2019s fiction,\u00a0people, not my life, so though the story is from the heart (I\u2019m such a wuss that I was actually in tears while writing it), it is NOT from my life. \u00a0My husband, Allah bless him, tells me what he appreciates in me. \u00a0He\u2019s not shy or too \u201cmacho\u201d to say thank you, to accept my input in business or domestic issues, and he realize that I am\u00a0indispensable\u00a0for keeping him up-to-date on the storyline of \u00a0his favorite police drama and explaining the rules of football. \u00a0So take this story for what it\u2019s worth. \u00a0A cautionary tale of how we can allow marriage to go stale. \u00a0And though the emphasis here is on the men, the women also need to look at themselves and honestly evaluate what they are doing to please Allah and keep their marriages strong. \u00a0I hope you enjoy the story:<\/i><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/p>\n
Ahmed came home from work, tired and frustrated after having to meet a hard contract deadline and correct the work of a colleague who was about two days from being fired. \u00a0Firing him was not going to be a good solution, because then all his work would land on Ahmed\u2019s desk. \u00a0The week promised to go from bad to worse. \u00a0<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Once inside the door, Ahmed took off his knitted cap and placed it carefully on the peg so he would be sure to have it the next morning to ward off the chill \u00a0He dumped his briefcase on the sofa and left a trail of clothing on the way to the bathroom\u2026. shoes, socks, necktie, shirt, pants. \u00a0By the time he reached his \u201csanctuary\u201d he was down to his skivvies, holding only the newspaper as he closed and locked the bathroom door. \u00a0He had not yet said hello to his wife or uttered any word beyond a quiet \u201cSalaam Alaikum\u201d \u00a0as he opened the door, so quiet that the words of peace did not reach his wife in the downstairs laundry room.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Aisha had heard the door open and hurried to toss a load of laundry in the washer before going up to greet her husband. \u00a0She bustled up the stairs only to see the trail of dirty clothing and the light shining under the closed bathroom door. \u00a0Sighing, she bent to pick up the clothing and then went back downstairs to add what her husband had discarded to the neverending pile of clothing to be washed. \u00a0Closing the door on that task, she marched back upstairs to check dinner. \u00a0Ah, ready, just in time. \u00a0Over the years she had gotten her timing down to perfection, makings sure food was ready when her husband walked in the door, never making him wait. \u00a0She fixed him a plate so it would cool a bit, poured water, and carried the tray to his favorite spot in the living room where he would sit and watch the news when he came home.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
After about fifteen minutes, Ahmed emerged refreshed from the bathroom. He had washed up, made wudu, and then he went to pray the asr prayer. \u00a0He said an absent salaam alaikum to Aisha as he passed her in the hallway and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then proceeded to his room to pray. \u00a0He didn\u2019t ask if she had prayed yet or invite her to pray with him. \u00a0Afterwards, he strolled out to the livingroom and sat in his chair. \u00a0He said bismillah and started to eat. \u00a0Aisha sat next to him, idly watching the news and noting his appreciative grunts as he ate. \u00a0Finally, he swallowed a last bite, said \u201calhamdulillah\u201d in no particular direction, and sat back. \u00a0\u201cCan you get me a toothpick?\u201d. \u00a0<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
For a while while he digested, he talked to her, telling her about his day and mentioning how snowed under he was at work. \u00a0He complained about his coworker and his boss, the traffic and the pollution downtown. \u00a0Aisha nodded sympathetically and decided not to mention that her only \u201cgood\u201d abaya had gotten torn, that the baby had sicked up on her twice, and that the garbage disposal was making funny noises if she used it. \u00a0He had enough on his mind, she considered. \u00a0She cleared his plates and went to check on the baby, who was still blissfully napping, and put on water for tea. \u00a0While it was heatinng, she stole a few moments to review the verses of surah Kaafiruun, which she had been trying to memorize forever but whose repetitive lines were leaving her confused. \u00a0She wanted to ask Ahmed about it but she didn\u2019t want to interrupt him while he was watching his favorite crime show.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Half an hour later, tea was drunk, the show was over, and Ahmed reminded her that they had a \u201cthing\u201d at the masjid tonight and he had promised to go. \u00a0\u201cI could go with you\u201d, Aisha said. \u00a0\u201cWell, that\u2019d be fine, but I want to go early and you still have to feed and change the baby. \u00a0I\u2019ll go now and you follow in the other car. \u00a0Where\u2019s my galabiyya?\u201d \u00a0\u201cIn the front closet. \u00a0It\u2019s ironed and your kufi is in the pocket.\u201d \u201cAh, thanks, okay. \u00a0See you in a bit\u201d. \u00a0He placed another absent-minded kiss on her forehead and walked out the door.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Aisha hustled to get the baby ready. \u00a0It wasn\u2019t easy. \u00a0Little Yasin woke up in a fuss, not wanting to settle to nurse, and once again he had pooped and had totally messed up his diaper and his shirt, necessitating the fifth wardrobe change of the day. \u00a0As she dealt with the mess, Aisha felt alone and near tears. \u00a0She tried to think of why, when she had just spent the last couple of hours with her husband. \u00a0Well, she had been in the same room with him, but she didn\u2019t really feel as if she had been \u201cwith\u201d him. \u00a0He treated her with politeness, but with no more concern that he would a comfortable piece of furniture. \u00a0He took for granted the clean house, quiet baby, freshly-cooked meal, and nicely pressed clothing. \u00a0Yes, he was tired from work, but she worked, too, and her \u201cjob\u201d did not allow her to clock out at a particular time and leave it all til the next day. \u00a0Feeling down but determined to make it to the masjid, she finally worked the baby into his warm clothes, strapped him into his carseat, pinned the tear in her abaya, and dressed and made it out the door \u00a0only a few minutes late for the lecture.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Once there, she entered the women\u2019s side and prayed two rak\u2019aats of welcome to the masjid, then went to greet the ladies and cuddle babies, tousle the hair of the older children, and feel the warm glow of sisterhood. \u00a0She felt so loved by these women. \u00a0They always welcomed her with a heartfelt salaam, kissed her cheeks, inquired after her health, and made a fuss over the baby. \u00a0Her friend Tasnim asked her how her Qur\u2019an was coming. \u201cSlowly, alhamdulillah\u201d, she replied. \u00a0Tasim was her best friend. \u00a0Her husband was the Imaam of the masjid and was a kind and gentle man. \u00a0He had a ready smile and always took pains to include the women in any programs. \u00a0Tasnim helped him teach and headed the outreach committee. \u00a0She had seen that Aisha had been struggling recently and asked her what was wrong. \u00a0Feeling guilty about telling her anything about her home situation, Aisha nonetheless shared with her that she was feeling a bit ignored by her husband, who seemed to have time for everyone but her. \u00a0Tasnim didn\u2019t pry deeply but patted her hand and counseled her to patience, and she made du\u2019a for her husband to wake up and learn to appreciate his wife. \u00a0Since then, Tasnim had kept an eye on her friend and had talked to her husband about addressing the issue of husbands and wives. \u00a0Tonight, he was going to speak on the topic. \u00a0Directly after the maghrib prayer, the Imaam stood in front of the congregation, and after making du\u2019a and reciting Qur\u2019an, he began to speak.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cBrothers, what if I told you that there were some very special Muslims that I wanted you to meet? \u00a0Wouldn\u2019t you like to know the details? \u00a0If I told you to come to the masjid to meet a visiting scholar, you would run to listen to him. \u00a0If I told you a chef was coming to cook a special meal, you\u2019d break the speed limit getting here. \u00a0If I told you that I knew a man who was very particular about cleanliness, you\u2019d be very respectful of him. \u00a0If I told you we had a visitor who was foremost in giving charity, you would crowd around to kiss him and hold his hand. \u00a0If I told you that there was someone coming who taught the children our deen, you\u2019d make du\u2019a for him. \u00a0If I told you there was a doctor visiting who always made housecalls and never complained when he was called out at night from a warm bed, you\u2019d beg me for his telephone number. \u00a0If I told you that all these persons were just ONE person, you\u2019d tell me I was lying at that no one person could contain all these qualities. \u00a0But I am here to tell you that such a person is among us tonight. \u00a0This person has all these qualities and more, and this person has been living among you all the time and you didn\u2019t even know it. \u00a0Who is this? \u00a0You look back and forth among yourselves, wondering if the brother sitting beside you is the one, or that Moroccan guy over there, or the Palestinian brother who just moved here. \u00a0You look at each other, but not ONE of you looks back to the women. \u00a0Yes, the WOMEN. \u00a0And not just one woman. \u00a0The qualities that I mentioned, many of the sisters have them. \u00a0They have some or all of those qualities in one level or another. \u00a0Don\u2019t believe me?<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
There is a woman. \u00a0She is a loving wife. \u00a0She has taken pains to learn her religion so that she will know what her duty to Allah is, and what her duty towards her husband is. \u00a0She has read so many books and attended classes, and she has taken what she has learned and tried to institute it in her life. \u00a0She has learned how to cook her husband\u2019s favorited dishes so he doesn\u2019t feel so lonely, a thousand miles from his mother back home \u00a0She has cleaned the house, scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees because she wants it to be clean enough for the kids to play on; she scrubs the bathroom walls, cleans clothing, washes dishes, cuts the kids\u2019 hair, trims their nails, bathes them, and still makes time to take a bath herself and apply perfume for her husband and to adorn herself to please him while at home. \u00a0She spends her husband\u2019s money wisely, and makes sure the kids have money in their hands to tuck into the charity box on Friday. \u00a0She forgoes jewelry and expensive clothing so that her husband can send money back to his family. When preparing dinner, she gives the best portions to her husband and children and does without if there is not enough. \u00a0She teaches the children to say bismillah before they eat, recites Qur\u2019an with them, reminds them to say please and thank you. \u00a0She checks their homework and helps them with special projects. \u00a0She wakes up in the night when someone is sick, or wants water, or just a cuddle, and still wakes up in the predawn to pray the fajr. \u00a0She holds the qualities of a scholar, a chef, a doctor, a philantropist, a teacher, a friend. \u00a0And yet\u2026 and yet\u2026.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
So many of you men take your wives for granted. \u00a0You treat them like children, giving orders and discipline, rather than your life mates and equals. \u00a0Or worse, you treat them as servants, ruling over them harshly and either speaking cruelly to them or even striking them, Allah forbid. \u00a0You rush out of the house to come to the masjid to be with your brothers and you ignore the one who is closest to you. \u00a0You take her for granted and you rarely give her a kind word. \u00a0You think of her as \u201cwife\u201d and forget she is also your sister in Islam and that she has rights on you. \u00a0You break her heart every time you neglect to thank her for something she does for you fi sabil Allah. \u00a0You kill her day by day until her heart is hardened against you and she either starts giving back what you\u2019re doing to her, or she simply \u201cchecks out\u201d of the marriage and becomes that servant that you apparently wanted her to be. \u00a0Shame on you brothers! \u00a0<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
When a Muslim commits a sin against his brother or sister Muslim, it is not enough that he repents to Allah. \u00a0He must also apologize to the one he has offended. \u00a0So I abjure you, my Muslim brothers, to apologize to your mothers, your wives, your sisters, and your daughters if you have treated them in the manner I have described. \u00a0It is not a shameful thing to admit you are wrong. \u00a0It is not a shameful thing to apologize. \u00a0You are not making yourself look weak if you soften your heart towards your women. \u00a0You are showing that you are strong in your Islam and that you understand that Allah created women to be our helpmates, not our slaves. \u00a0If you do this one thing, which is really look at your wife, see her as she is, respect her, and TELL her that you respect her, I swear by Allah that your life will improve. \u00a0If you ignore me and think that your life is just fine and I\u2019m a soft stupid wimp and women need to be \u201cput in their place\u201d, then the sin of that is on you and I wash my hands of you. \u00a0Don\u2019t ignore this message, brothers. \u00a0You marriage is the foundation for your life and the safe spot that you need as you go out in a harsh would to make a living. \u00a0If the home is a place of peace and tranquility, you can overcome any obstacle that is in your way.\u201d \u00a0<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
And on that note, the Imaam made a closing du\u2019a and left the minbar, leaving the masjid in a state of silent shock as people tried to absorb what they had heard. \u00a0Rarely had anyone spoken to the men in such a strong, forthright fashion. \u00a0They were unsure what to do next, and most just sat there, pondering. \u00a0The women were quiet as well. \u00a0The usual chitchat had evaporated the moment the Imaam began to speak. \u00a0Many women were in tears. \u00a0Aisha was one, crying, trying not to sob out loud, surruptitiously wiping her eyes on the hem of her abaya. \u00a0She decided she had to leave right away before she fell apart, and asked Tasnim to tell her husband that she was going home. \u00a0She managed the drive somehow, not remembering one minute of the road before she pulled up in her driveway. \u00a0She took the baby from his carseat and ran into the house, put him in his crib, and then collapsed on the floor in front of it, sobbing so hard that she felt she would break apart. \u00a0She felt that the lecture had been only for her, that the words were directed to her household, and she was afraid her husband would be angry and think she had been gossiping about her situation with her friends. \u00a0After her tears subsided, she managed to stumble to the bathroom and wash her face. \u00a0The cold water helped her gather herself. \u00a0She changed clothes and then picked up the baby, holding him close and promising herself to raise him to be a compassionate man. \u00a0She stiffened as she heard her husband\u2019s car arrive. \u00a0Not knowing what room to escape to, she simply stood by the baby\u2019s crib and held him, waiting for the storm of accusations to rain down on her.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Ahmed entered the house as he had done hours before, uttering a quiet Salaam Alaikum. \u00a0Aisha heard him this time and returned the salaam just as quietly, fearful. \u00a0Ahmed didn\u2019t stop to take off his shoes or jacket; he came straight up the stairs and walked directly to her, towering over her from his substantial height. \u00a0Aisha was afraid to look up but hazarded a glance, and she was surprised to see that his eyes were bright with tears and red from crying. \u00a0He opened his arms to her and grabbed her and the baby up in a fierce embrace, and with his voice cracking from emotion, he whispered \u201cI\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m sorry\u201d, again and again. \u00a0Aisha felt the tension in her bleed out of her body, and she slumped against him, allowing him to enfold her and hold her and comfort her as the tears came yet again. \u00a0It seemed they stood that way for hours, but of course it was just minutes, and when he finally let them go he held her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, seeing the emotion reflected in them, and the pain.\u00a0<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\u201cI promise, I swear by Allah that I will try to be a better husband to you. \u00a0You are my heart and you are half my deen. \u00a0I love you and I respect you so much, and I won\u2019t take you for granted again.\u201d \u00a0She could see the sincerity in his eyes and she sent a silent prayer of thanks to Allah for blessing her with a husband who was so strong and good. \u00a0She knew now that they would be able to renew the bonds they had forged when they first were married, and she could smile through the tears and straighten her spine and know that they could together conquer whatever the world would throw at them. \u00a0She prayed that the other women would be as blessed as she was by the Imaam\u2019s strong reminder, and that the other men would be as strong as her husband and would be able to admit their mistakes. \u00a0She promised herself she would work even harder to be a strong Muslimah, wife, and mother, and that she would never stop loving this man who stood in front of her. \u00a0 And as if to punctuate the thought, her baby happily threw up on both of them, and all she could do was laugh and rush to change as Ahmed held the baby and looked helplessly at the stream of half-digested milk that decorated his clothing. \u00a0Life goes on\u2026.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/blogger.googleusercontent.com\/tracker\/8276196425188955527-7433092734126868878?l=muslimahinprogress.blogspot.com\")
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<\/div>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim Salaam Alaikum wa Rahmatullah. Sometimes I wonder to myself if I am a person who writes, or if I am a writer. \u00a0Then I have a story that forms itself completely in my head, and there\u2019s nothing I can to relieve the tension but write it down. \u00a0This is one of those […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":81,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-58","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n