[uncensored]: Thirtieth Juz / Ramadan Reflections

As salaam alaikum,

I was unable to finish the last juz and reflect on it before starting my OB subI, so here we go. Just a couple of things, then I'll reflect on Ramadan in general, insha'Allah:

"Do, then, they [who deny resurrection] never gaze at the clouds pregnant with water, [and observe] how they are created? And at the sky, how it is raised aloft? And at the mountains, how firmly they are reared? And at the earth, how it is spread out?" (88:17-20).

How can we not observe life and know that we are creation, just as is everything around us, just as is, transitively, everything we make with our hands, with machines that we've made with our hands, with our minds that God created? How can we not look at the bird that regards the seed on the ground before it eats it and not marvel at creation, and that we are created?

Some people don't like nature. I don't understand that. While I'm not one to go traipsing around on hikes, I do enjoy observing nature, for that very reason...it's beautiful creation just like we are. So many things we do can be an act of worship if we just remember God as we take in the world around us...

And I will always love this, and I'll always get goosebumps from this:

"Read in the name of thy Sustainer, who has created --created man out of a germ-cell. Read--for thy Sustainer is the Most Bountiful One, who has taught [man] the use of the pen--taught man what he did not know!" (96:1-5).

So this month and every month, even as I tussle with the Arabic alphabet and aspire one day to learn enough to read the Qur'an in language it was revealed, I read the entire Qur'an in English. I think everyone who doesn't have command of Qur'anic Arabic should do this in addition to whatever else they do in Arabic...to read the Qur'an in the language they most understand. I mean, Allahu a'lam, but there are messages that can get lost if you don't understand what's going on. There's no way that I would have had access to the Qur'an if it were only available in Arabic initially unless I got some of its message translated in English. There's no way I would have had access to Islam if my mother hadn't read the Qur'an in English cover to cover several times over when I was a kid and imparted from it lessons that brought me back to Islam as an adult. There is more than one way to arrive to the straight way and we Muslims need to recognize this and not make things unnecessarily difficult for our brothers and sisters in Islam...



So I reflect on this Ramadan. This Ramadan ended with me passing out in the delivery room shortly after watching a delivery. There were various reasons I passed out...I think I was also stressed out at the time. But I had my last iftar in the conference room in the company of a resident. I broke fast with a bottle of water and two granola bars, which apparently was not enough to get me through the bloodiness of the next delivery. As I fell flat on my face (and bounced) and woke with a bleeding laceration on my forehead, I cried because I was embarrassed.

But I reflect on that night as another instance of hubris and nemesis. Excess pride and it's downfall. I wanted to be the best SubI I could be, and couldn't even stand my first delivery. But it was kind of fitting for a Ramadan in which the theme for me this year was humility.

Since the last Ramadan, I made a change in my life. I took a chance and started a relationship with a non-Muslim man. I thought I had to if I ever wanted to get married, as the market for Muslim men who will accept African American sisters is not that dense right now, and when there are some available, compatibility is not correct for an enduring marriage. Anyway...I went forward prayerfully, and then it ended abruptly, which I painfully concluded was because it wasn't right for me. I vacillate between being grateful for the experience and wishing it never happened. In the end, I'm grateful, because it allowed me to lower myself to a greater state of humility this Ramadan than the previous one, submitting myself more to God and recognizing even more my inherent errors as a human being, things that I did wrong before but didn't recognize.

I made a pledge to God during this Ramadan that I wasn't able to make before, something that I needed to do. And so here I am, insha'Allah upholding that pledge, insha'Allah leading myself towards a new level of God-consciousness that will ensure that I am on the path of the righteous, ensure that my destination is Heaven when I die...

This Ramadan was harder because, frankly, in a relationship with a man who is not Muslim (or a man in general), I crossed paths and was faced with decisions that I never had to make as a single Muslimah, potentially compromising my own chastity. As I read the Qur'an, I reflected how God protected me from falling into sin, and was reminded how grave it would have been. It was very hard for me in the beginning to read all of those things, and at first I was filled with remorse, and then relief. Though I could have gravely strayed, by the grace of God I was able to see the error in my ways and return...

Does this mean this is latersville for men who do not call themselves Muslim? No. This just means that I'm not going to waste time on men who are not striving, who are not trying to submit themselves to God, whether they call themselves Muslim or not.

I made a pledge with God, and in return I have more security than I ever have before in life that in time I will have the husband I always prayed for. In the meantime, I am finding more and more contentment in myself, in all that God has blessed me with, in my journey ahead, in all I aspire to be, as I remain single for a few more days, whatever the scale of time may be. Because no matter how great my husband will be, I have to answer to God alone, so I need to make sure I have my stuff in order, make sure I have everything together to make me spiritually ready to meet Him.

This Ramadan has left me with a sense of peace, a post-Ramadan nur that I've heard so many people talk about that insha'Allah will stay with me for a while. I celebrated Eid by myself, unable to attend prayers because of my head trauma, and for the first year in a while, I didn't feel lonely at all. This Ramadan was not lonely. It was filled, and I am filled with passion and purpose. I have beautiful things to look forward to...the beginning of my career in medicine with wonderful residency programs to visit and get to know, the decision of a lifetime coming up. It was a wonderful way to end my fast. Ending with my pledge to God was a wonderful way to secure for myself inner certainty...

Because even if I were to remain single and childless for the rest of my life (I would adopt children, I've decided, so I wouldn't technically be childless), what God has in store for me if I bring my soul to him is better than any marriage on this earth, any children on this earth, any family on this earth...any existence that He graces me with on this earth. So I have that inner certainty, but I also know that I will be married, in the coming days or whatever period of time it will be...

And therefore, a momentous thing has happened. I before thought my faith would be complete when God answered that prayer for me. When I was finally happily married. But my faith is complete now, with no suitor lined up, with no fiance in tow. And I think that's what I had to do in the first place...

So it was a blessed Ramadan, indeed. I get to deliver babies, I get to apply to awesome residency programs, I get to fall in love with all of life over and over again, and I get to love God, watching babies be born, so precious to their parents, so destined to be ingrates as they already cry in their mothers arms, not recognizing the residual pain she still feels for their deliveries.

And while some may say they did not ask to be born, neither did your parents ask that you specifically be their child...

I look at childbirth and it reminds me how we cannot possibly make ourselves from this time when the nurses clean off our naked bodies, place us in diapers and swaddle us in blankets until we look like little peanuts, handing us to our adoring parents, us closing our eyes because the light of this world is too bright, after we had become accustomed to the fluid-filled darkness of our mothers womb, bathing and ingesting endometrial fluid and our own urine...

It's a humbling entry into this world and a humbling exit out. The trick is to humble ourselves throughout...