Filed under: Series for New Muslims | Tags: Allah, how to pray in Islam
This post is an extension of the previous post “How to Start Your Prayers.” Please note that I did not write this section myself – it is written by a member of ummah.com who calls herself “dhakiyya.” She gives good advice as to how to start the prayers as a new muslim.
Filed under: Family
I tried to come up with something to write about today - but I just don’t have it in me. The one thing that is on my mind right now is my mother. She fell yesterday and she broke her collarbone.
My mom has been sick for a good part of my life – she has Lyme Disease and was diagnosed when I was only five years old. In those years, she was bed-ridden and the image I remember most was of me laying on the living room floor, coloring her get-well pictures out of my Care Bears coloring books while the visiting nurse gave her IVs. I remember my mom smiling at me with only half of her face when she lost the nerves in her left side.
You would never know what she went through if you met her today. She is so strong and competent and driven. Every season she has been out in the field beside my father, driving the plow, unloading the beet harvester, delivering seed to the plants. She never slows down and she never stops, and they are a team. Without each other, they would be lost.
Which is why this is so hard on her right now. She deals with the pain of a broken bone – she won’t even fill her pain prescription. It’s not the broken bone that is breaking her down; it is the fact that the injury occurred exactly one day before harvest season. My dad is out there in the field alone, and she is at home, alone. They are separated for the first time in the middle of the busiest time of the year, and she feels completely inept at not being able to help him, to carry out her duty of farming alongside her husband.
And there’s not anything I can do to ease that for her. I can offer her comfort, I can send flowers to cheer her, I can call to make funny jokes and try to make her laugh. I try to tell her everything happens for a reason and a purpose. But she doesn’t hear me. I can see as I watch her eyes that her mind is going to be halfway in the field, feeling regret and remorse for her condition.
Her whole life she has been strong. She could have given up at any point in her struggle; I feel any normal person probably would have in the face of her obstacles. But she will not give up and she hasn’t. So although she can’t be where she wants to be – I just hope that she allows herself time to heal. I will always admire her for her strength and determination.
Filed under: Series for New Muslims | Tags: first visit to masjid, new muslim
Note: Part Four of Seven in the “Am I Muslim” series for new muslims.
My actual first trip to the masjid occurred while I was in college, doing research for a religion class. I remember I was asked to wear a headscarf (and provided with one) and was guided into the women’s section of the masjid, which was behind a thick wall, blocking all view of the Imam. I went into the masjid with an open mind, but seeing the separation (not to mention the very small area that the women were crammed into) was upsetting to me. The woman who was guiding me through the masjid continued to make excuses for the situation, but I just wasn’t convinced. I didn’t blame it on Islam – I already knew the religion stressed equality among the sexes – but I did feel that it was a situation that should be changed.
The second time I entered a masjid was as a muslim. The masjid I went to was nothing like the first one I had attended. I saw right away that the prayer area for the women was placed on a second floor, so that the women had full view of everything that was happening and a clear view of the Imam. This seemed so much more appropriate and as a woman, I felt much more comfortable in this environment. But this time was different, as I wasn’t just there to make observations and leave. This time I was there as a Muslim, as a member of the community – or so I desired to be.
Luckily my experience was wonderful. I was welcomed into the masjid so easily – there was a meeting organized just for people like me – new muslims who were unfamiliar with the masjid or perhaps with the religion of Islam itself. We discussed all kinds of things openly and freely, the Imam came to meet with us to welcome us and answer questions, and we were placed on an email list for further communications.
But not everyone has a similar experience. Some who visit the masjid may feel alienated or distant from others. Some may be too scared or nervous to even attempt a visit. It can take some time before you are ready to make that the first step outside of your comfort zone.
I’d like to help you on your journey with knowing what to expect from your first visit, and how to have the best experience possible in order for the masjid to become a comfortable place of worship. It seems that every masjid has a different “feel” to it. Some are more family-oriented, with programs for kids, outdoor community gatherings, and after-school activities. Others are more individual-centered, with less discussions and more educational activities, avenues for gaining more knowledge about Islam. So if one masjid doesn’t seem to fit with your personality, keep looking and perhaps you will find one that is more suitable for your lifestyle.
But all masjids are there for a place to worship, so the prayer hall is probably the most important area of the masjid. It can help if you have a guide, someone to help you through on your first trip. All you would have to do to arrange this is to call the masjid, introduce yourself, and ask them for help. This way you will know exactly where you will be going when you first enter, and you won’t be like me who wandered around for 5 minutes before getting up the gall to ask someone where the meeting was! If you want to go there just to pray, it won’t be difficult to find your way around, as this is usually the central ”hub” of the masjid.
Another bit of advice is to get to know your Imam. The Imam has alot of connections and knowledge about the activities and schedules of the masjid, so he can be your number one resource for answering any questions you may have. They usually have time periods set aside for things like this, so you can call just to ask when the Imam is available to meet with you. This can be a great way to introduce yourself to the masjid.
There is a great list of masjid etiquette and customs written by a fellow blogger. These posts on Masjid Etiquette are so concise and well-written that I refer you to them now, as there is no better way to guide you on this issue than to direct you to this site and helpful posts. (Click here for the follow-up post regarding masjid etiquette.)
One more thing I want to point out is this: It’s okay if you make mistakes. There were a couple of things that I completely overlooked when I first visited – I forgot to take off my shoes in the prayer area. I passed in front of someone praying. I left too much space between myself and the next person praying. I entered the prayer at an inappropriate time. I made all kinds of mistakes. But the best part was that I learned as I went, and others helped me along the way. It’s okay if you don’t know everything there is to know about Islam. It’s alright if you don’t know all the proper things to do or say. You will learn and then someday it will be you teaching another who may not be aware.
The best benefit I have found of being at the masjid is praying in congregation. There is nothing like being a member of a community of people who believe in exactly the same things you do, who believe in the oneness of Allah and believe in the Qur’an as a message from Allah. To pray alongside another who prays the same as you, to be a part of such an environment does wonders for your soul. For years I stayed away from the masjid because I was too afraid to step outside of my comfort zone. But since I started regularly attending the masjid and praying in congregation, my imaan (faith) has improved beyond anything I could have expected, and in such a short amount of time. Knowing other muslims and reconnecting with a religious community has helped me to strengthen my faith as I have wanted for the past several years.
So I wish you luck and I encourage you to try going to the masjid. Ask Allah for help if you are nervous and know that Allah is with you always.
This concludes Part Four of the “Am I Muslim” series. Look here next week on Monday for some guidance on “How to Start Your Prayers.”
While packing up my cluttered room during our move, I had stumbled upon the neat, clean boxes of old board games that my sisters and I used to play. I had some of the best from our collection: Sorry, Husker Du, Guess Who, Trivial Pursuit, along with some uncommon ones: Girl Talk, M.A.S.H., and Mother’s Helper. Still shelved at my parents’ house were the classics: Monopoly, Hungry, Hungy Hippos, and CLUE.
I remember when I had brought them back to my house, only to find that forcing my husband to play wasn’t nearly as fun as having my older sisters together again to reminisce with me. The games were slow and monotonous compared to board games of today such as Cranium or Apples to Apples (our new favorites.) My husband whined and complained the whole time, and while I tried to feign excitement and suspense, I too, was bored of these boring board games.
So again they were boxed up and put back into storage, where they would collect more cobwebs and dust than they had when I first pulled them out from the basement closet at my parents’ house.
All the memories these board games ignited in my mind led me to one in particular - a somewhat recent memory between my husband and I. A few years ago we had been cleaning out his closet at his parents’ house when we discovered his old Monopoly set. It was in impeccable condition - all of the perfect green and red houses were still enclosed in their tiny plastic zip-loc bags, red-orange chance cards and bright-yellow community chest cards still in his possession. The money was neatly lined up in its carrier, perfectly aligned for the “bank teller” to conveniently resume their position. And even all the original metal pieces – the dog, the hat, the thimble, iron, ship, horse with rider, shoe, car, wheelbarrow and cannon – all still tagged and bagged in their original plastic bags.
I couldn’t believe the memories that lay across that big, bright board, all the memories contained in those tiny, silver pieces. If I were to play the game with my sisters today, I knew immediately the pieces they would chose. I knew who would inevitably obtain the Boardwalk/Park Place combo, and which one would proudly acquire a humble hotel on Baltic Avenue. The day my husband and I retrieved his Monopoly game from the closet, I dragged him away from his Need for Speed video games and forced him to play with me. And with his acceptance, I introduced him to the strange tradition of my sister and I: The Crappy Twenty.
Always in my family’s collection of games there existed a less-than-desirable playing piece, card, or item that was damaged in some way, shape or form. Whether it was a “Number Two” Sorry card that was stained green from spilled kool-aid, or a favorite Chutes and Ladders player that (in an act of revenge) had had its eyes poked out with a pencil, there was always one particular piece in a set that no one wanted. In the cherished Monopoly set at my parents house, the defect could be found in a single, green $20 bill. Somehow this bill had become so disfigured and discolored that it was now barely recognizable as such. The game inside the game was to continue to pass this bill to the other players (either secretly or openly) and basically not be the one who has it in their possession – as this person was the player of ridicule throughout their duration of ownership of the appropriately named “Crappy Twenty.”
When we broke open my husband’s set and I deliciously tore open every perfectly unopened package and untouched piece, I knew I had to introduce a crappy twenty. While usually the despicable items would develop of their own accord, the perfection of this set wasn’t going to allow for that, especially since I knew that my husband was not about to rack up the years of game-playing that this set deserved. So to fast-forward to the desirable outcome, I turned my back on him in the middle of our game, and unknown to him proceeded to destroy one crisp, new $20 monopoly bill. I crumbled it up in my hands, I sprinkled water on it, I tore pieces out of it.
Perhaps I took it one step too far. In my excitement, I grabbed a lighter off of his dresser. I intended only to “slightly char” or brown the tips of it. But in my attempt I accidently lit the twenty on fire. I immediately panicked and turned around to face him, waving this bill and sending sparks floating all over the room.
He immediately grabbed it to put it out, but not before the crappy twenty had officially become what it was intended to become – a charred, discolored, disfigured mess. My husband thought I was crazy – not only did I purposely destroy something of out of his flawless set, but I also almost started a fire in his house!! But it created a memory. As soon as we were finished and I had placed that twenty back in the pile, I had re-created a tradition and introduced a memory of our own.
What memories do you have of old board games?
