Amina Wadud's Journey for Hajj

White

I just folded all my clothes for the hajj. Most of them are new, a few gifts came of late, so I have pants and long tops, dresses, and scarves. I feel like I need one more scarf. Not for sheer number, but for style; there are so many styles, and one has to decide what works best individually. I have my long prayer scarves that do not need any pins to be neatly kept in place. But they are really long, and I wish I had at least one as neat, but shorter. I want to be hands-free and secure at the same time. I have long rectangular shapes that get draped, and I will use them when I am not also walking great distances or throwing rocks! Too late now-even if I asked my friends where they make these scarves, none could get to me on time.

I was tempted to wash everything this morning, just so I would know how they fare through the regular wash cycle, because with three weeks away, I will need to do laundry. But then, maybe I'll only be able to use the hotel service, which accounts for an expense locally one needs to know about before going. In Indonesia this would be cheap so not a big deal, but who knows in Makkah and Madinah; and what about cleaning my underwear?

But some of these are made from such lovely cotton, the pre-wash would just be more work for me, and not at all necessary.

Then I wondered what the heck I would do with all this white when I return. Only the pant outfits will be possibly integrated into everyday wear; and honestly speaking the dresses are just sack style, and I honestly do not imagine when or where to use them. Maybe I'll have a lifestyle change and dress in white more often?

Exercise and Diet

Well, I've hit the awful plateau, 15 pounds down but gone in the first three weeks. I wish I had managed more than the once a day daily walk, too. This is not just vanity, nor even that pre-diabetes diagnosis, but I really want to be fit for all the activity. I hope I can avoid the prediction that everyone gets sick, even if just a cold. The only thing I want taxed is my soul, not my aging body. But there you have it.

Lastly, I am adjusting my expectations down. I've built myself up so much, I'm not safe to avoid disappointment. I've also stopped reading and looking at photos over the Internet. They got to be too overwhelming, and I think it better to leave some things for the moment.

Nov 3, 2010—If You Were Faced With Him

Remember that song by Joan Osborne, with lyrics that say:

If God had a name, what would it be
And would you call it to his face
If you were faced with him in all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question?

Well, that last line (and the whole song, thanks to a quick stopover to YouTube) has been playing in my head since yesterday.

First, let me share the news as it unfolded.

My two youngest daughters have both recently married, and each has a new baby. I spend my time mostly as a doting grandmother, but recently they have both been minus the husbands for one reason or another, and now I am the fill-in. This is not as much fun as being the doting Nana, trust me.

So far, it's meant: six hours in the emergency room; being pushed out of my queen-size bed at night by a ten-month-old who insists on sleeping right in the middle; countless random commutes; and, sometimes, holding a baby for hours after I've come to my end of holding capacity. It doesn't help that my second daughter is pushy about whether or not I should be allowed to sit down any longer when her baby remains fussy. Still, when you get around these bug-eyed bundles of joy, some of their goodness rubs off. So, even when I say to myself "I must set limits," I break my word again and again.

So, yesterday was one of those days when I felt like I didn't have a life of my own-despite managing somehow to successfully raise five children, mostly as a single parent. I had three stops to make with my youngest daughter, baby in tow, and mostly he and I sat in the car; he asleep, and me trying to write a blog on my iPad. Let the record show, I was not successful, despite my best intentions.

I managed to drop that daughter off just in time to head to Oakland as I had told my middle daughter I would. She needed assistance with the baby because her Canadian in-laws gave her a car, which had to be cleared at customs before local registration. Then we went to the farmers' market, the flea markets, and the swap meet. She insists on using a baby carrier instead of a stroller. So I held her six-month-old while she pillaged through a sea of clothing. That's a lot of holding, trust me.

When we finally returned to her place, I was hungry, but I just could not take another moment of being so family-oriented. I decided I would rather brace the rush-hour traffic and eat at home than to stay one minute longer. So of course when she asked if I would hold the baby for ten minutes while she picked up quickly and loaded the dishwasher, I said yes.