Ahlan Wa Sahlan

Ahlan Wa Sahlan

Showing posts with label I really really do actually love my husband. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I really really do actually love my husband. Show all posts

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Following My Dreams

Literally.

My path to Islam was long, long, long in coming and has been heavily influence by dreams that I believe with utmost certainty came directly from Allah.

I had been wanting to post about this and never found an opportunity, but now I have been prompted by a similar post by the Saudi Stepford Wife and an evening bout of insomnia.

Dreams are intensely personal and their meanings and symbols are often only intelligible to the dreamer. Why do I want to reveal something so personal? I want to demonstrate that a connection to God is possible and, in many ways, tangible.

My first dream about Islam actually came when I was twelve years old. I think I must explain that while I had a fairly multi-ethnic upbringing it was definitely mono-religious. The most religious variance I had seen was between my Non-denominational Christian mother and my Catholic Christian aunt and the most religious choice in my city was choosing churches. I had, to date, met only one girl who was Jewish and my knowledge of her religion extended mainly to the draedl that she brought to show and tell. Oh, and I read Anne Frank.

So to have the dream I had, with the detail that I had it in, meant it had to have come from a source other than experience.

In my dream I was standing in a perfectly square room lusciously carpeted with the pile all laying towards one direction. The walls were solid wood and unadorned except for one on my left side which was ornately carved into a screen of ivy and flowers, beyond which was another room that I knew was there without needing to have entered it. A room I knew was meant for women while I was rebelliously standing in the room meant for men with my head uncovered. I could feel the judging eyes of unseen peers upon me but I didn't care, what I was focusing my attention on was the overwhelming presence of God I felt. I could feel God's love for me and sadness at my choice to not cover my head. I could bear the judgement of the others but it was God's sadness that broke my heart.

All these years I can still feel those emotions and I can still see every detail of the dream. At twelve I didn't know what a headcovering was, nor what these odd rooms were, but it made a mark on me deeper than I will ever realize.

I also had a dream around the same time of french-kissing a dark-skinned man with what I would later realize was a sunnah beard. The fact of it is that the man in my dream looked remarkably like my husband- although I didn't know that yet. I remember the dream because 1- I had never french-kissed and the dream was incredibly vivid and tangible and 2- the man looked nothing like any men I had ever seen in my life. Why I was sent this dream I'm not entirely sure, except that it may have had something to do with recognizing my naseeb when I met him (alhumdulillah.)

My other two important dreams came after I was Muslim and in response to marriage istikhara I had been praying at the time. One was for a proposal I turned down and the other was for a proposal I accepted. And the reason that I am revealing both of them is because they have eerie similarities.

With the first dream I had been making istikhara for weeks and refusing to listen to what my heart was telling me the answer was. You know when you have one desire in your heart and you want your istikhara to back it up no matter what? Yeah. Like that, except God finally sat me down and gave me an irrefutable answer in the form of another vivid dream.

I was standing in a room getting ready for the wedding, in my wedding gown, with everyone waiting for me and all I had left were to put the gold bangles on. But they wouldn't stay on my wrists; I would slip them on and they would slide right off again and I began to get irrationally afraid, I felt there was no way I could get married without the bangles. I abandoned the effort and slipped out the door trying to find my way out but was discovered and brought to the auditorium where the wedding was to take place. The groom and the sheikh officiating were sitting and waiting for me on a platform at the top of a large flight of stairs (remember the stairs for future reference.) Feeling as if I were facing my doom I started up the stairs but as I ascended one by one my body began to get heavier and the effort to climb higher became greater until at the top I was climbing on my hands and knees, heaving my thousand-pound body up one stair at a time. When I got to the top and was about to take my seat next to the groom I panicked and, in a moment of distraction, made a break for it, racing down a back way and out the doors. My groom came after me and when I realized that there was no escape I collapsed into the grass and wished for oblivion. He came and laid down next to me as if we were jut companionably watching the clouds float by. Eventually I mentioned that we should probably go back and he just laughed and answered, "Why? We're already married." At which I felt like my life was over and the weight of the world was crushing my chest and then I woke up.

There was no misinterpreting that dream, but when I brought it to a local sheikh I found that in dreams bangles/bracelets are synonymous with religion. If the bangle is so tight you can't get it off it is a good sign meaning that it will be good for your religion, but if it won't stay on it means that which you were praying about is bad for your religion.

But I already knew it.

When it came to the decision to marry my husband I only made istikhara a few times but the dream I received in response was as obvious in its meaning as the other had been.

My dream began with me relaxing in an unending and perfect green field beneath an unblemished blue sky. Pretty much exactly the windows xp default wallpaper down to the giant hill, I kid you not. And this area I was contently chilling in was called Islam, as in thats what it was labeled on the map. Anyways, as I was hanging out I got a call from my family that my cousin (Oogie's older brother) had been killed on duty in Iraq and my family was in mourning. I knew I needed to be with them so I walked to the white marble wall that marked the border between Islam and Jahilya and hopped back into oblivion. In Jahilyah (its actual name in my dream) it was permanent dusk and there was no life, I immediately forgot about Islam and entered into a zombie-like state. I hooked up with my cousin (Oogie's younger sister) and began to go around with her from party to party. I never drank or partook in the sexual orgies and disgusting past times that marked everywhere I could see but I was a silent observer of it all. Eventually depression engulfed me and I left my cousin behind to wander looking for happiness (exactly like I had before I found Islam) until I realized that my phone had been incessantly ringing. I checked my voicemail and found messages from my husband-to-be saying that he knew I was not the person I had become, that what I was doing wasn't me, and that I needed to return. In that moment I remembered Islam and realized what spell I had been under and I set off back towards Islam. I came to the marble wall but getting back into Islam from Jahilya was going to be harder than leaving it had been. To leave I jumped a four-foot wall, but now between me and the wall, which had become now one hundred feet tall, was a gaping divide filled with hellfire. In order to cross the ravine and get over the wall I had to climb up a staircase of thin, razor-sharp silver wires. I dutifully began to climb and as I did the wires cut my hands and feet and I could look down straight into the hellfires and the demons waiting inside. But each step I climbed I shed my sins and my body became lighter until the wires no longer cut me and I felt as I were floating. I got to the top and rolled over to land back in Islam where my husband-to-be waited for me dressed in pristine white clothing. I clung to him crying about the terrible dream I had had about being stuck in Jahilya but he only brushed it away smiling with love into my face saying, "Don't worry habibty, it was only a dream. You are Muslim and you don't need to worry about a thing, its all over," and I woke up completely content.

From that moment I never feared the future with my now husband. I felt completely at peace with the decision to marry him and this peace has carried through to every part of our lives together.

God has granted me the supreme blessing of receiving my answers in such a concise manner. Not all istikhara is answered by dreams, not all of MY istikhara has been answered in dreams, but when it mattered I was given an answer there was no way I could deny.

Its been a long journey, but the blessings and rewards are great.

And I guess, if one is to believe my dream, Islam/Janna looks a lot like windows xp.

Also something I found out after I had that dream is that the soul must cross a bridge of razor thin wire between heaven and hell, each cut the soul receives removes a sin so by the time it reaches Janna it is pure.

I'm only reciting this from memory and not from an actual source as I find myself quite tired now and ready to go to bed.

To sleep, perchance to dream.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The Elephant in the Room

I'm not sure how I'm doing with the move, I think its just that it really hasn't hit me. I'm excited to go to Egypt, I'm definitely excited to see my habib, but the fact that I'm going to be there for an undetermined amount of time still hasn't reached the surface for me.

Trip? Way excited. Not seeing my friends, family, and mom for a long period of time? Wha...

I feel like I have a concrete wall built up between myself and that reality. And its not as if I've never been away from home before. I moved down to Arizona with the full intention of living there for if not the rest of my life then a huge chunk of it. So I've said goodbye psychologically to Minnesota before, maybe thats why I don't feel the need to do it again. But I think what is getting me is the idea of no longer living in the United States.

Am I scared? No. Nervous? Ok, maybe a little. But its my lack of trepidation thats concerning to me. I should be scared, something...

I should be more emotional, I know I would be if I could only convince my psyche that this is real.

I am really moving to Egypt.

Fo' reals.

The other day my mom was talking about having a dinner party for me because "her daughter is moving away" and I was totally blindsided. Oh thats right, this is a slightly momentous occasion. I'm so focused on myself and getting things set up that I didn't think about the rest of my family- except when they are reminding me that they think I am moving to my doom and enslavement. I'm focused on everything I have to do, and all the days I have left, and my cousin's wedding.

There is so much I should be doing and feeling, but instead I'm putting my head down and trying to make it through each day until I leave.

48 days today. 47 days tomorrow.

I know there's an elephant in this room, I'm just having a hard time finding it.

Friday, April 4, 2008

Memory of Egypt

In keeping with my 'missing Egypt' mood. Something written when I missed and remember my husband.

I can taste it, the dust in the air poignant, stagnant, choking, breathing, living dust. Laughter in warraq the smoke of trash burning, the bark of the dogs. Horns and donkies side by side somewhere, but here, just him and I. I can taste his sweat and he pulls my hair, hushed love above the dirt streets. No, alleys. It is an alley where the bawebs' children play. Women peddling fateer and sweets. Below, loud voices. But above the caucaphony hushed, quiet, hurried love. He pulls my hair, heavy lidded eyes. I love you, he says. Awy, awy, awy, I reply, hushed by lips and laughter in warraq. Hushed, sweet, sensitive love, I love you, he says. Awy, awy, I reply.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Weakly Randomness

I've got a lot of tidbits and things to sound off on. Sorry for the chaos, but you'll soon see how my mind works.

A dialogue between myself and a gentlemen I checked into the clinic earlier as I'm walking towards the cafe for my lunch:

Man: Hey my mom used to always wear those scarves, but you don't see it much nowadays.

Me: *a bit confused* Oh really? Where's your mom from?

Man: Alexandria.

Me: *surprised* Alexandria, Egypt?

Man: Uh, Alexandria, Minnesota.

Me: Oh....

Man: Why, where are you from?

Me: Here, but I'm Muslim.

Man: Oh...

Me: ....

Man: ....

Me: So uhm, have a nice day!


Why the news makes me laugh sometimes:

1.) Not that this story really is something to laugh about because someone actually died, but when I was watching the news it illicited a very loud snort. One man shot another man after they "exchanged argumentative text messages."

First we date via myspace, then we send fightin' wurds by text.

When I think of two men fighting via text messaging brings to mind the image of two gay men slap fighting.

But thats just me. Its sad because the other man died (inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi rajioon) so just remember kids before you send that next text telling someone you're gonna kick their a$$ you might just have to put your money where your fingers are.

2.) Heath Ledger has died (see above dua) and in retaliation to losing the limelight Britney Spears went out again with the same "Muslim" papparazzo who had just appeared on a gossip show talking about his relationship with her.

And then the Feds, realizing that Britney's antics are no longer distracting the world media from our freefalling economy, decided to drop an interest rate the largest single amount in 25 years.

And it did nothing.

3.) When talking about afore-mentioned economic crisis the news played a 2 second clip of Pres Bush talking about something that must not have mattered because they didn't introduce him or play him for very long.

Also no one is quite sure when he arrived home again.


Some random things I've noticed about Masjids lately:

1.) You will never see creative parking like that at masjids during jummah time. All streetspace/parking lots within walking distance suddenly become little pieces of the Middle East where triple parking is perfectly normal. Someday it will be the Muslims who invent how to park cars on top of eachother and utilize it.

2.) The sisters enterance will never be obvious. At a new masjid sisters will circle the building three times before being directed to the door hidden behind a bush. Make time for it.

3.) Above rule will change during jummah. Good luck finding where the sisters have been moved to in order to make room for the extra men.

And finally something random about me:

I will automatically be drawn to something red. Its my new favorite color and my husband is the one who picked up on it before I did.

Good job habibi. Keep being so good at guessing what I like. It will pay out in the long run.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Shout out

I was just reading another blog OrganicMuslimah and I felt the need to give props to my husband's family, and of course to my husband too.

When I went to Egypt and my husband and I got married I was terrified to meet his family. I had always seen the crazy MIL who never thinks any woman is good enough for her beloved son. And considering my husband is the baby of his family I thought it might be even worse. And I suppose it could have been were I not the person I am and were my MIL not the angel that she is. She was wary of me at first I know for certain, but the one and only factor that she needed to ascertain about me and my relationship with her son was how I was going to treat him and how much I would love him. As soon as she realized I was head over heels for her baby, and that I was a kind person who would love him and take care of him like she does, she accepted me with open arms. I adore her and I am so lucky to have her as a MIL. Alhumdulillah.

And despite me not being Egyptian and not being real savvy on the ins and outs of Egyptian culture, the rest of his family accepted me not only with open arms but an incredible wealth of love and kindness. I adore his brother, his brother's wife, and their kids. I love them so much its insane. I love his older sister and her children and I miss the twins so much. His younger sister was my best friend within the day we met and his father was my baba from the beginning. I have been so blessed to have them as my family.

And my husband, well... say mashAllah. He is my soulmate, my other half. Yes we have issues coming from two different cultures, and yes occasionally he tells me I can't do something in that Arab way he has. But I love him more than my life. Allah has given me so many blessings in so many ways, alhumdulillah.

So I want to give props to my husband for being amazing, and for his family for not being the normal crazy Egyptian family with baggage. I love you habibi, and I love my new family.

Alhumdulillah.

Friday, November 30, 2007

You know you're married to an Egyptian when...

A cute list I found on UmmLayla's blog that I had to steal.


You know your husband is Egyptian when...

he insists that if you don't wear slippers in the house you will catch cold.

you find yourself cooking fatah and stuffed grape leaves when you are happy with him.

you can't tell if he's yelling because he's mad or just yelling when he's talking to his family on the phone. (omg SO true)

you think "insha'Allah" means "if I can."

the biggest threat he makes to the kids is "the slipper". (or well actually its usually me threatening him.)

he has stories of his own parents and "the slipper".

every story from his youth involves someone named Mohammad.

he never eats fish when he has a cold.

he drinks tea upon waking, when getting ready, when working... Well, he just drinks lots of tea.

your closet contains a box of things from Egypt to use when you need a last minute gift for someone.

you have at least one cartouche in your jewelry collection.

he has a great sense of humor.

everyone says "I have always wanted to go there!" when you tell them where he is from.

he gets steamed up when all the American depictions of Egypt are the guys in Giza or upper Egypt wearing jilbab.

he never says Alexandria, always Alex.

you wear hegab in the masgid... not hijab in the masjid.

it isn't a meal if you don't offer your guest as much food and variety as the average American gets in a week.

almost everything you cook has cumin, coriander, onions, garlic, and bell pepper.

you have mastered the art of filo dough.

not only do you buy eggplant, you make more than one dish with it.

you know who Amr Diab is, and you actually have at least one CD.

you are truly loved by a man with a heart as big as the ocean;) (thats the truth)


I love my husband so much.