Run, Rahaf, Run!

It’s mid-January, and a runner from Michigan readies herself to add a significant checkmark to her list of accomplishments. Rahaf Khatib, a Syrian American hijabi runner, already has four of the six major marathons under her belt—Berlin, New York, Chicago, and Boston. Just a few days ago, she got the green light to participate in No. 5, London.

The preparation for this upcoming race in April will require much more than Khatib’s normal training routine. It will be physically strenuous, mentally challenging, and this time, perhaps emotionally overwhelming as she raises money for a charity that hits very close to home.

This past Thanksgiving, Khatib’s father was diagnosed with brain cancer.

“This is not how I imagined to be running London, but SubhanAllah, this is how it worked out,” says the mother of three. “Ever since my dad’s diagnosis of brain cancer, I [thought], ‘What if I can do something? What if I can help in some way?’”

And so, Khatib decided to run for a charity that supports brain cancer research. With London Marathon 2018 right around the corner, Khatib is fundraising diligently in an effort to help her father and those suffering from the same illness. To help her reach her goal, click here.

“It’s hard to see your parent sick and struggling. My father is really proud of me, what I’ve accomplished, and what I’m doing,” Khatib says. “[Running London is] one more thing he can witness.”

Since her running career began in 2012, Khatib’s father witnessed her build up an impressive list of accomplishments. She transformed from a mother who enjoyed physical fitness and didn’t know what a 10K was to an avid runner who completed nine full marathons (that’s 26.2 miles each), over 15 half marathons (13.1 miles), and several other 10K races (6.2 miles). In addition, this Damascus born super athlete finished two sprint triathlons and even a few 30 mile biking events.

It all started when her son’s gym teacher approached her to run in a 10K six years ago.

“I thought it was a great idea because I’m the type that likes to challenge myself, and I found that fitness and going to the gym wasn’t fulfilling enough for me,” she says. “I did my best at the time as an amateur runner in April 2012 and actually crossed the finish line. Ever since then, I’ve been hooked on running.”

Not only did Khatib become a familiar face at the races in her home state, but she made national news on more than one occasion. The first was during her campaign to be on the cover of Runner’s World Magazine. She beat out thousands and thousands of entrants and became a top ten finalist to be on the cover. The contest was based on garnering votes from people all over the world, and Rahaf did great thanks to the help of her Instagram page, @runlikeahijabi, which at the time of writing has 15.3 thousand followers and counting.

But Khatib faced a dilemma. Runner’s World wanted to have her on the cover while posing with a man that chooses to run in a speedo. Needless to say, she turned down the offer.

Little did Khatib know, a different publication had its eyes set on her. A few months following the fallout with Runner’s World, Women’s Running Magazine wanted her as one of its top 20 game changers in the sport and its cover girl for October 2016.

“SubhanAllah going from one magazine to the other,” Khatib says. “God works in mysterious ways. He took away something from you, but then He gave you something even better. I’m one of the first hijabis ever to be on a magazine [cover], period.”

From grocery store stands to your crammed social media feed to your Muslim friend’s Snapchat story—Rahaf Khatib donning her hijab and running gear on the cover of Women’s Running Magazine was everywhere. The milestone was yet another accomplishment added to her already lengthy list.

“It’s not very common to see a hijabi running in mostly a predominantly white sport,” Khatib says. “Most people run for numbers. They chase time, a pace, goals. For me, running is so much more than that. I feel like I run for social change.”

While Khatib says she gets funny looks from fellow runners, she understands her peers are naturally inquisitive and curious. She gets it—she looks different. With her long tights, long sleeves, skirt, athletic hijab, and cap all incorporated into one ensemble, how could she not?

More than the negative remarks (those usually rear their ugly heads on Twitter), however, Khatib says she gets compliments. At one of her workouts in the gym, she sported a long top from Sukoon, a modest activewear apparel line. A fellow gym goer expressed her love for the covering shirt. On another occasion during the Bayshore Marathon in upper Michigan in May one year, the weather was particularly hot, humid, and rainy. Khatib dressed as she usually does and heard one man hilariously comment, “Well, aren’t you dressed for the rain!”

“That’s the dawah part of it; it kind of comes automatically,” Khatib says. “Every opportunity I get, I feel like it’s from God.”

Khatib says lots of Muslims are teaching Quran and explaining Islamic jurisprudence as their methods of dawah—and rightfully so. But for her, the spreading of her faith takes on a different form.

“It just came to me. How can I refuse it?” she says. “Even if I can change one person’s mind about Muslims, I feel like I’ve accomplished so much.”

Gracing the cover of a worldwide magazine in hijab, crossing countless finish lines in epic fashion, raising $16,000 during the Boston Marathon for Syrian refugees in her home state, being well on her way to fulfilling every marathoner’s dream of running the six majors, all while crushing Islamophobic stereotypes of Muslim women…

Yes, Rahaf Khatib has accomplished so much. Masha’Allah.


A version of this article was published in the May/June 2018 issue of Islamic Horizons. Featured image credit: @runlikeahijabi

Asma Hanif

Wholeheartedly: A Profile of Asma Hanif, Founder of Baltimore’s Muslimat Al-Nisaa Shelter

After occupying a top floor unit in an abandoned Baltimore building for nearly a year, Asma Hanif got a bitter taste of what it’s like to be homeless.

People living with addiction health issues frequented the building to acquire drugs and other substances, while Hanif and her young children would go about their day-to-day activities floors above with no lock on their door. While this was a dangerous circumstance, Hanif says her only issue with the men downstairs engaging in substance dealings came when she had to maneuver over them upon entering and exiting the building.

“It was only by Allah that no harm came to myself or my children—that’s the part that’s so amazing. It was only by Allah,” Hanif says. “They were drug addicts, but they never harmed us. When 9/11 happened, they came to me and they said, ‘You let us know if anybody bothers you.’”

Born in Virginia and raised in North Carolina, Hanif was the daughter of two Black parents who lived in the the United States during a time when racial tension was far more prevalent than it is even today. She called the projects her home, and she witnessed the blatant mistreatment of people who shared her skin color throughout her life.

Knowing the challenges faced by Black Americans, Hanif’s mother encouraged her to go to nursing school. “When I was growing up, my my mother told me, ‘Go to school to be a nurse because when people are hurting, they don’t care what color you are,’” Hanif recalls. “That was my goal.”

That was the first of three occurrences in her life that Hanif credits for her pursuing her line of work today. The second came in ninth grade, when her grandmother battled a cancer that resulted in her demise.

Hanif’s grandmother worked for a wealthy physician as a maid, a position Hanif says was considered by society to be unimportant and replaceable. When her grandmother felt something in her stomach the size of a pea, she went to the physician only to have her concerns dismissed as nothing.

“That ended up growing into the cancer that killed her,” Hanif says. “This broke my heart because it emphasized the point that she didn’t matter. She was a discard to society. When she died, all [the physician] would do is get someone else.”

It was at that time Hanif’s future career goals became more defined. “I decided that I wanted to grow up and take care of people like my grandmother—people who no one cared about,” she says.

Some years after her grandmother’s death, Hanif enrolled in Howard University with a scholarship. She then went to nursing school, as her mother advised and soon became Muslim.

“I accepted Islam at the age of 19, but my values, my efforts, and my willingness to help others was instilled in me by my Christian parents,” Hanif says. “Islam was basically the means by which I actualized what my mother and my father taught me.”

During her schooling, Hanif noticed Muslim women were treated with a similar disregard to her grandmother when they came in to receive care. Promises of female doctors and examiners were not always honored, and for a Muslim woman, this can often feel like a total violation. Hanif then realized she had to start her own practice if she wanted to guarantee a comfortable environment for female Muslim patients.

Upon graduating, Hanif opened her private clinic. She had many Muslim women come to her for examinations, and as soon as they got into the room alone with Hanif, they revealed they were victims of domestic violence. Hanif says there was at least one victim per week, sometimes two or three. She continued to call the women back in so they could escape from their abusive homes.

“I realized I was just putting a band-aid on a major problem,” Hanif says.

This was the third occurrence of three that led Hanif to where she is today: running a shelter exclusively for homeless Muslim women called Muslimat Al-Nisaa in Baltimore.

The wisdom behind an exclusive space for Muslim women is that Hanif can freely establish an Islamic environment comfortable for the demographic, as this type of accommodation does not exist elsewhere. One Muslim woman even told her she was denied services from a Catholic shelter that falsely stated Islam allows men to beat their wives so unless she left Islam, she could not benefit from their services.

Early on in her endeavor with the shelter, Hanif was able to finance Muslimat Al-Nisaa through her work as a nurse practitioner. However, as time went on and more women needed her help, she had to turn to the Muslim community for donations, as she could no longer both work and manage the shelter. Today, the non-profit runs solely on donations and houses only half the women it can hold due to numerous financial strains resulting from a lack of adequate funds. Hanif herself inhabits the home because she is unable to simultaneously afford her own dwelling and care for the women in the shelter.

“That’s the saddest thing for my heart,” Hanif says. “That someone will contact me and I have to put them on a waiting list until the money comes in.”

Over the years, Hanif has grown tired of asking her Muslim community for help. She often finds herself brushed off or untrusted. There are people who donate money, but not nearly enough comes in to sustain the shelter at its full potential. While she doesn’t turn to non-Muslims for financial assistance, if there are some willing to donate to the shelter because they think it’s a good cause, she will gratefully accept. Hanif believes it’s the Muslim community’s responsibility to “step up to the plate” and care for their needy, but she admits it’s a big struggle to come by sufficient donations.

Instead, Muslimat Al-Nisaa receives unwanted items like torn clothing, broken household goods, and unhealthy canned foods.

“They offered something that’s not really a sacrifice on their part. They think if they do this, they’re helping, but they’re not helping,” Hanif says. “If we get all these clothes and canned foods, then what you end up having is the best dressed, well-fed, homeless person. Nothing is more of a need than a roof over your head.”

This is the biggest problem the women in the shelter face—the lack of support from their community. However, Hanif says some of the women themselves may not realize this because she doesn’t let them see the struggles she faces in garnering donations. For example, when she mans a booth at an Muslim convention, she won’t let the women in the shelter come along so they won’t see the people who ignore her table or those who part with just a single dollar. Sometimes some of the women think it is Hanif’s decision to refrain from raising the heat a little higher or not keeping a landline in the home, but in actuality, the funds are simply not there.

“I would rather for the Muslim women in the house to be angry with me than to become disheartened with the community,” she says. “If nothing else, Allah will make it right on the Day of Judgment.”

Hanif says she wants the women in the shelter to be able to associate happily with the Muslim community upon their exit from the shelter after they become self-sufficient. If they have a sour taste in their mouth from the community at large, Hanif worries they’ll separate themselves from their fellow Muslims or eventually leave the religion all together. That’s why she is willing to take the blame for the lack of amenities in the shelter. She knows Islam emphasizes caring for the needy, even though some Muslims don’t practice it very well.

One naturally wonders, why even continue such a thankless, tiresome, and draining lifestyle?

To that question, Hanif answers, “I don’t want to answer to my Lord when He says to me, ‘Asma, one of my servants came to you for help, and you turned her away.’ That’s the reason why I do this—because I don’t want to have that conversation with my Lord.”

A certain kind of heart is needed to put oneself last only to lift up others. That heart belongs to Hanif, a woman who saw the struggles of growing up in the projects, being homeless, caring for her brother with HIV then losing him, in addition to losing her grandmother and mother, and still wholeheartedly looking after women who are victims of domestic violence.

“The heart that I have is the heart Allah gave me. I don’t want those hardened hearts that…can turn away and not care. I don’t want that heart,” Hanif says. “I have no control over it, I was born with this heart.”

If more people had hearts like that of Asma Hanif, maybe those women she houses would find themselves free of domestic violence. If more people had her heart, maybe Muslimat Al-Nisaa would have enough money to turn up the heat and install a landline phone. If more people had her heart, it’s guaranteed the world would be a better place.


Readers interesting in learning more and making a donation, can visit this link.

Featured photograph by Muslimat Al-Nisaa official photographer Antar Hanif.

This article was originally published on Muslimah Media Watch.

N.Y. Muslims’ Businesses Solve Everyday Problems for the Ummah

New Yorkers Fahad Tirmizi of WuduGear and Dr. Mohamed Issa of NoorVitamins serve the ummah with their unique and innovative business endeavors, benefiting the lives of Muslims everywhere.

Credit: WuduGear Facebook Page

While on his cellphone store showroom floor catering to customers, Long Island native Fahad Tirmizi found himself having to answer another call—his daily prayers.

He excused himself from the floor, punched in the code on the lock, and made his way through the Employees Only door to begin his routine.

It went like this: go to office, remove socks, remove shoes, wear flip flops, walk to bathroom, make wudu, put foot in sink, go back to office, dry feet—and finally—pray. The post prayer routine consisted of ensuring his feet were absolutely dry before wearing his socks and shoes and returning to the sales floor.

This is a struggle many Muslims face in the workplace. Aside from the awkward encounter that ensues when a non-Muslim sees a Muslim with a foot in the sink, the entire process of only preparing for the prayer can be quite time consuming.

Tirmizi came across potential solutions, but they all fell short. When he finally developed a sock that was lighter, more affordable, and more comfortable than its counterparts while still meeting Shariah requirements for masah (wiping over), he knew he found his answer.

“I thought it was the most useful thing in the world,” Tirmizi says.

This sock works on two technologies. The first is a waterproof layer that, despite its impermeability, is still breathable. This material is then flanked by a comfortable inner material against the skin and a durable outer material that withstands the elements. The second technology, a patented lamination, seamlessly combines all three layers to create a waterproof sock that can be wiped over instead of removed when performing wudu.

“We did a lot of the legwork on our own, talking to scholars about what the requirements are and making sure quality wasn’t sacrificed by meeting those criteria,” Tirmizi says. “We also didn’t want to sacrifice comfort.”

After consulting one of his teachers about possibly expanding the endeavor to beyond family and friends, Tirmizi received a green light. officially launched.

With his team made up of his wife, brother Samad, and others, Tirmizi opens shop at Muslim conventions around North America explaining to consumers why scholars are unanimous that wiping over regular thin socks is impermissible and how WuduGear’s Shariah compliant waterproof socks help revive the sunnah of masah.

At one ISNA convention, a man came up to Tirmizi and offered feedback. He had many pins in his foot due to a surgery and experienced difficulty removing his socks for wudu.

“[The man] said, ‘You have no idea how much you helped me!’” Tirmizi recalls. “He thought our product especially helped him from some suffering, and he actually gave me a hug.”

It’s moments like this that Tirmizi considers especially fulfilling—interacting with so many Muslims and knowing he can leave an impact on their lives.

“I would attribute our success to two main things,” Tirmizi says. “1) The help of Allah and duas of scholars, and 2) the sincere intention when we started the company of what we were trying to achieve. We simply wanted to make wudu easier.”


noor vitamins
Credit: NoorVitamins Facebook Page

When New York based pharmacist Dr. Mohamed Issa and his fellow Muslim health professionals looked for halal vitamins to recommend to their same-faith patients, they realized the options were few and far between.

“Almost nine times out of ten, we found many of the ingredients were sourced from pork and/or alcohol,” Dr. Issa says. “They obviously weren’t permissible from a halal standard.”

This predicament turned into an opportunity for Dr. Issa, who in 2010, decided with his colleagues to formulate a halal alternative to major brand supplements. NoorVitamins thus launched with four products: multivitamin, prenatal, children’s chewable, and calcium with vitamin D.

Dr. Issa, the chief executive officer of Noor Pharmaceuticals (which makes NoorVitamins), says Muslims who regularly took supplements appreciated the new option. However, there were skeptics who witnessed too many Muslim companies come and go.

Fast forward eight years, and NoorVitamins is still around—with a presence that is stronger now than ever before.

“We now are the No. 1 halal vitamin brand worldwide,” Dr. Issa says, with his products lining the shelves in multiple countries. “But more importantly, [approximately] thirty to forty percent of our customers are not Muslim. They buy our brand because of its high quality nature.”

NoorVitamins expanded its line of products over the years to thirteen and counting, six of which are patented and trademarked, so they cannot be replicated by any competitor. Each of the products contains ingredients only from all-natural sources and is manufactured in NoorVitamins’ own FDA-approved facilities.

“Everything from the ingredient sources to the manufacturing and packaging process and the formulation development [we do] ourselves,” says Dr. Issa.

The executive team’s involvement guarantees the high quality nature NoorVitamins prides itself on, and at the same time, Dr. Issa says it requires much persistence, consistency, and commitment.

“With every challenge, there’s an opportunity to elevate expectations of ourselves and our priorities,” he says.

One such priority is giving back. In Ramadan, the company runs a campaign called #NoorishTheHungry, in which it donates a meal to the needy for each bottle purchased.

“Every time we try to give, Allah blesses us with more,” Dr. Issa says. “We really believe the more you give, the more you get.”

NoorVitamins runs in an Islamically compliant way, from steering clear of interest to ensuring the products sold deliver what they promise. All this contributes to the “real value” Dr. Issa says his company placed at its core. He defines this “real value” as presenting consumers with a product that is the best of its kind, that also meets halal standards Muslim consumers look for. This is in contrast to what Dr. Issa calls “affinity value,” in which a business relies on followers of the faith to buy something simply because it’s coming from a Muslim company.

For Dr. Mohamed Issa, what began as a project to satisfy the needs of his Muslim community successfully expanded into a business benefiting people of all backgrounds.


A version of this article was published in the March/April 2018 issue of Islamic Horizons.

Living Islam in Letter and Spirit

“Whoever does not show mercy will not be shown mercy.” This is a saying of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ my Islamic school required my classmates and I to memorize growing up. Showing mercy isn’t the easiest thing to do at times; it may not even be expected of someone by society’s standards. Nevertheless, it is a gesture of beautiful forgiveness and a habit of the Prophet ﷺ and a characteristic my school tried to ingrain in its students.

We see this habit of forgiveness on full display at many times during the life of the Prophet ﷺ. After losing his beloved wife Khadija and his protective uncle Abu Talib, he traveled to a town neighboring Makkah called Ta’if. There, he hoped to spread the message of Islam to a new audience. Upon his arrival, however, the people tormented him to such a degree that his entire body bled. They kicked him out of the town and showed him zero mercy. All the while, he had done nothing wrong.

When he came to a safe place, the Prophet ﷺ called out to Allah and made a powerful supplication, citing his own weakness as the reason the people reacted so harshly. The Prophet ﷺ professed his desire of only pleasing His Lord. In this du’a, we witness the extraordinary humbleness with which the Prophet ﷺ lived. Because the people caused him such harm, Allah gave permission to the angels to destroy the town if the Prophet ﷺ wished. Instead of seeking revenge, the Prophet ﷺ let the people be, in case even one of their offspring accepted Islam. In Ta’if today, Muslims fill the population.

This is but one example of the immense forgiveness the Prophet ﷺ had in his heart. Had anyone else been in his situation, it is hard to imagine the reaction would match. But there are some rare gems who still walk on this earth, practicing that same forgiveness the Prophet ﷺ made such a huge part of his life. Dr. Abdul-Munim Sombat Jitmoud is one such person.

This is the man whose hug went viral. On April 19, 2015, Jitmoud’s son, pizza deliveryman Salahuddin, was about to make his last stop of the night. Upon entering the Kentucky apartment complex, the 22-year-old was robbed and stabbed to death. During the court hearing in November 2017, Jitmoud shocked everyone by turning to the man involved in his son’s murder, Trey Relford, and telling him that he forgave him. He even referred to him as his “nephew.”

“I want him to start a new chapter of life,” Jitmoud said. “When he spends time in confinement, think about Allah. Then try to do righteous deeds when you come out and keep good friends. This is what I whispered to him.”

Jitmoud said according to court protocol he wasn’t allowed to look at, talk to, or even be near Relford. He thought the judge would stop him, but she herself had tears in her eyes during the emotional moment. The family planned to verbalize their forgiveness for Relford in court, but the subsequent embrace and genuine words of advice—that Jitmoud said was Allah’s plan. Jitmoud’s past thirty-plus years of experience from being an Islamic school principal and educator came out during the hearing. He consoled many people in his office before, so handing over a tissue, comforting, and embracing a remorseful Relford came very naturally.

“It took us two years and seven months to come to this. I know I have a lot of pain and stress and despair and nightmares because of Salahuddin being murdered,” Jitmoud said. “But when I met the scholar, the learned Muslim, they said Salahuddin received the honor from Allah as a shaheed (martyr). People came to me, they saw the news and said, ‘Your son is shaheed.’ They didn’t even know me, but they saw me in the clip of the news. These things brought comfort to my mind and to my sons.”

After the hearing, Jitmoud explained why he showed mercy to a man who caused his family such heartache. He said, “God said in the Holy Qur’an…Allah, Almighty God, is the Most Forgiving and the Most Merciful. Now I say, my nephew, God is going to forgive you because He promised…provided I forgive you first. So I did forgive you. Now, it’s God’s turn to forgive you.”

The concern Jitmoud had for the wellbeing of a man who played a part in the murder of his son is extremely moving. It is the current day example of the forgiveness and care we learned from the Prophet ﷺ after he departed Ta’if with so much heartache.

“Everyone needs Islam so badly, including ourselves. Hidaya (guidance) from Allah is so crucial,” Jitmoud said. “It is our duty after RasulAllah ﷺ passed away that we carry the torch of taking the message forward in every possible way. Allah created us all, and everyone has a right to the perfect deen of Allah. It becomes your job and my job to convey the best we can with the help of Allah.”


A version of this article was published in the January/February 2018 issue of Islamic Horizons. This is the original article above.

How Wonderful is the Case of the Believer

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” — Rumi

When I was in college, I developed a fondness for the renowned Persian poet, Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi. It was a relationship that had me quite confused at the start, but when I decided to give him another chance, I fell in love with his words. And although he stole many hearts with a mere translation of his work (he’s the No. 1 best-selling poet in America, after all), I find particular passages and verses speak directly to me.

Like the line quoted above, for example.

We all suffer our own struggles and fight our own battles. Me? I failed plenty of times. Things I thought would work out simply didn’t. Even though I knew it was all for the best, I couldn’t help but feel sort of defeated. Mentally and emotionally, life sure can take a toll on a young Muslim woman sometimes.

But it’s sort of amazing, too. At a moment in my life when I felt like I was thrown off an emotional rollercoaster without warning, at a moment when I stayed in bed for two days trying to sleep off everything I was thinking and feeling while avoiding face-to-face interaction with the people in my own home, at a moment when that emotional wound formed—that was the moment I felt a connection with Allah, subhana wa ta’ala. I felt the Light enter me.

That made all the struggle, confusion, and stress worth it. I mean, how could it not?

You know how you avoid talking to certain people about some things because they just wouldn’t understand? Explaining all the details and backstory ends up being a wasted effort. But it’s never like that with Allah, subhanahu wa ta’ala. No one understands us and what we’re going through the way He does. No one can guide us toward the best like He can. He’s right there with you, and He always has been. Simply sitting in your room and pouring your heart out to Him may be the exact conversation you need to have.

Everything we do while walking through this life as travelers is supposed to be for the pleasure of Allah, subhana wa ta’ala. That’s something we hear in every Islamic lecture we attend. Although it’s a message oft-repeated, it’s obviously not easy to remember whenever life throws lows in your direction. When you’re at home with the flu and the rest of your friends decide to hang out, that kind of stinks. The first thought that enters your head isn’t, “Ooh, maybe this illness is a purification for my sins!”

But what if it is?

Narrated Abu Sa’id Al-Khudri and Abu Huraira: The Prophet ﷺ said,

“No fatigue, nor disease, nor sorrow, nor sadness, nor hurt, nor distress befalls a Muslim—even if it were the prick he receives from a thorn—but that Allah expiates some of his sins for that.”

[Sahih Bukhari]

Pairing the above saying of RasulAllah ﷺ (one of my personal favorites) with those verses from the Qur’an that ensure Allah won’t test us with a burden beyond our capabilities is kind of an amazing mix of motivation. It’s like, “HEY, I know this is really hard right now, but guess who guarantees you’ll make it through? Yeah, that’s right—GOD.”

So that pain you feel—the one I felt—that wound, think of it as a means to become closer to Allah, subhana wa ta’ala. A reason to have Him re-enter your life. That pain, then, becomes a good kind of pain—perhaps even a great kind. A kind we all need to experience now and again to keep our relationship with Allah subhana wa ta’ala passionate, real, and heartfelt.

As I go through my struggle today, I remind myself of the ones from my past. A knowledgeable teacher, friend, and confidant once told me, “Insha’Allah, there is khayr in everything.”

Even in the wounds.


I stumbled across this in my Google Drive today, and it’s something I wrote in Fall 2014 for a project that fell through. I thought I’d post it here instead, because although it’s 2.5 years old, it still holds reminders I need to keep in mind and perhaps can help someone going through a difficulty.

#Blessed: Vacuum

This post is a part of a series called #Blessed, an effort to recognize a blessing in every day.

It was 64 degrees today in New Jersey, and it’s January. It feels incredible to step outside in the middle of the winter without a coat, although it is rather strange.

My cousin and I took advantage of this weirdly warm weather. We lined up our cars in my parents’ driveway, rolled out my dad’s beloved Sanyo vacuum from Saudi and began to clean the inside of our vehicles.

This particular vacuum is short and stout. It’s red with an off-white danda, and I’m pretty sure my parents requested my uncle to lug it back to the United States on his way home from Umrah. When I went to Umrah for the first time in 2015, I recall my mom asking my dad whether they were going to get another vacuum since they always have to ask others to get it for them. They didn’t get a chance to hit up the particular store.

We plugged in the vacuum to the outlet on the exterior of the house and got to work on our cars. It was so satisfying to see and hear the tiny leaves, crumbs, and pebbles being sucked up by the hose of the vacuum. All that was left was a clean interior that we didn’t even want to step on with the soles of our apparently very filthy shoes.

Vacuums seem like a silly thing to get happy about (unless you’re my almost 3-year-old nephew—he loves household appliances), but they certainly get the job done. My car floors were covered in crumbs and dead leaves before I graced the mats with the vacuum hose. Not only was it satisfying and a funny way to spend quality time with my cousin, but it reminded me of a hadith my dad always quotes:

“Cleanliness is half of faith.”

Alhamdulillah, if a vacuum can help me act in some unique way upon a hadith, how can it not be a blessing?

#Blessed: Bubble Tea

This post is a part of a series called #Blessed, an effort to recognize a blessing in every day.

I love bubble tea.

It all started when one of my friends took me and a couple other girls to a bubble tea place a few minutes’ walk from campus. I’m not exactly known for trying new things, but I took her word for it and ordered a mango bubble tea. She, of course, was fasting and decided to take the rest of us out for what would be the start of something new: a bubble tea addiction.

It was so good.

I was hooked. I became a regular at the little hole in the wall bubble tea spot. Pretty soon, the owner knew my exact order. I’m not sure if she even knows my name—but when I walk in to her sweet smelling store, she happily says hi and correctly guesses, “Strawberry mango bubble tea, with milk and tapioca, no ice.”

I smile to confirm her guess, pay, and pick out a straw as she concocts the frothy goodness. Within minutes the bubble tea is ready. And so am I.


#Blessed: Nanna

This post is a part of a series called #Blessed, an effort to recognize a blessing in every day.

When I was in elementary or middle school, I recall writing something about my grandmother, Nanna, being one of my role models. She doesn’t talk much and busies herself in worship—that was something I always admired about her. She took extra long performing her prayers, always had a tasbeeh in hand, and kept her little Quran out. Any breaks I noticed would be to eat or nap.

When Nanna stayed over our house, my mom would tell me to warm up her food at lunch. She’d be so un-picky in her food. She’d take a little of everything, warm it up, and enjoy. I’d think, wow, I complain because I ate the same thing two meals in a row. And Nanna was just happy to try whatever was already in the fridge. When I would try to help her pour it in her plate and stick in the microwave, she’d apologize for bothering me so much, “Mei bahut satayi tumko.” As if it was a bother…literally the only thing she’d ask me to do is start the microwave, hardly a one second job. Even when she finished eating, she insisted she wash her own dishes.

More recently, Nanna’s been experiencing hearing loss. Over the years, it’s become more difficult to hold a conversation. Although from what I noticed, she was always the type of person who simply enjoyed your company and seeing your face since she was never exactly a chatterbox. She was comfortable in silence.

I visited her earlier today, and it seems her face always lights up when we walk into her room to give our salaams. She’ll ask the same questions: how are you doing, when did you get in town, are you happy, did your mom come with you, did you eat. And for each question, I’d do my best to round out my lips, speak a little louder than normal, and gesture. Of course, my Urdu isn’t exactly on point…so the louder I talk, the more I worry my aunt in the other room will hear me fail at two things: 1) speaking loudly, and 2) speaking Urdu. But it always ends up being more of a funny situation than a frustrating or sad one. Nanna somehow manages to understand my soft spoken and broken Urdu, and my aunt usually comes to the rescue and repeats what I say loud and proper enough that my grandmother will register it.

Today, Nanna asked me funny questions about marriage. It really put a big smile on my face—and I’m sure that answered her questions better than any words I tried to express. Alhamdulillah.

#Blessed: Scissors

This post is a part of a series called #Blessed, an effort to recognize a blessing in every day.

My hair is pretty prone to split ends. I can spend hours analyzing individual strands for a tear, while some YouTube video or lecture plays in the background. I’ll position myself by a window that’s well lit with sunlight, get the playlist ready, keep a pair of scissors handy, and get to work.

Now I know you’re thinking, what the…? And that’s fine. I understand this is probably weird. I don’t know when this habit of cutting my split ends started, but it certainly has become a Thing. Even right now, I’ll finish up a few sentences of this post, run my fingers through my hair, and hold up the ends against the light of the screen to see if any strand needs a snip as I brainstorm what the next words should be.

All the split ends are definitely an indication I’m due for a trim. But until that cut is scheduled, there’s an odd satisfaction that comes with removing my split ends, and scissors make that possible. Alhamdulillah. (They’re also great for cutting tags off new clothes, opening a snack bag, arts and crafts, etc…but you knew that already!)

#Blessed: Google Maps

This post is a part of a series called #Blessed, an effort to recognize a blessing in every day.

This is gonna be a quick one for today. About a half hour ago, I got home to my parents’ place after driving a new route. It took some time, it was dark, but Alhamdulillah, roads were clear this Sunday night after a very snowy Saturday.

Google Maps is one of my best friends on a long solo ride. It tells you what lane to be in, the names of the roads to turn on, and it even welcomes you to a new state upon your car crossing the border.

That welcome announcement is one of the best feelings, to be honest.

Just when I get manage to navigate the unfamiliarity and hustle and bustle of New York roadways, I hear the comforting “Welcome to New Jersey” announcement in that Google Maps’ lady’s voice, and suddenly, the route seems a lot easier. There often is still an hour or so left of the journey, but the level of driver confidence rises. My license plate now matches the other cars, at least.

Alhamdulilllah, I’m home. Still in my coat and hijab with my backpacks of stuff surrounding me in the family room…but the drive was a lot better than expected.