Have you ever looked at something and thought you understood exactly what was happening, only to discover later that there was much more to the story?

Sometimes we see the same thing as someone else but understand it completely differently. Sometimes we become so busy complaining about what is happening that we miss what we could learn from it.

Let’s explore two stories and see what they can teach us.

Two People, One Town

In Sözler, Said Nursi tells a story about two men who enter the same town. Yet they see two very different places.

One man sees a place filled with sadness and mourning. The other sees a place of celebration and happiness.

How can two people enter the same town and see such different things?

They are looking at the same place, but they are not seeing it through the same lens. What we notice, what we expect, and what we already believe can change how we understand what is happening around us.

Have you ever heard someone say that a person is unkind, a place is terrible, or a situation is unfair, and then discovered something different when you experienced it yourself?

This happened to me during our Umrah trip.

The Ring Around the Rosie at the Haram!

Before we travelled to Madinah, I heard stories from relatives about the difficulties they had experienced with the rules and police around visiting the Prophet’s ﷺ mosque and the Rawdah. I wanted to approach our visit with patience and good thoughts about others, but those stories had already planted some expectations in my mind.

After Fajr, my daughter and I went to the gate for the women’s visit. We were among the first in line. Then more and more people arrived. The police directed us through movable barriers and guided us towards the back.

Wait a minute! We were here first! How did we end up at the back?

A French sister standing beside me, who had visited Madinah many times, told me that they did this every time.

Eventually, we reached the entrance. The male police officers formed a human chain, holding hands to block our way. They were talking and laughing among themselves while we waited. They stopped us, moved a few steps together, and stopped again.

I was getting so frustrated! I remember thinking, “What is this? Are they playing Ring Around the Rosie? Why are grown men holding hands and playing children’s games instead of just moving out of the way and letting us pass?”

My daughter was frustrated too. At that moment, their actions seemed ridiculous to me. I felt as though they were making us wait for no good reason.

Later, my husband told me how amazed he was by the crowd-management system. He had noticed how the officers communicated, moved barriers, and redirected crowds to keep people flowing safely. Years of experience and lessons learned from accidents had helped shape a system that combined people, barriers, technology, and careful coordination.

His observations made me rethink what I had seen.

What if there had been no human chain? What if everyone had rushed forward towards the Rawdah at once, especially near the stairs leading to the entrance? People could have fallen or been crushed by the pressure of the crowd. Perhaps the officers were controlling the pace to help prevent that danger.

I had been so focused on how long we were waiting that I hadn’t considered what might happen if everyone moved forward all at once.

I couldn’t know every reason behind their actions. But I could see that what had looked pointless to me might have had an important purpose.

And I had arrived carrying other people’s negative stories, which had influenced how I interpreted my own experience.

I had judged before I understood.

This is something I need to practise myself, not just something I want my children to learn. We can all be too quick to decide that someone is being unfair, that a rule is pointless, or that an unpleasant situation has nothing good to teach us.

So, what can we do when life doesn’t happen the way we expected?

Become a Wisdom Diver!

Imagine that life is an ocean.

Sometimes the waves are gentle. Sometimes they splash us right in the face! A parent asks us to stop playing when we want to continue. A plan changes at the last minute. We have to wait when we are in a hurry. Someone tells us to do something, and we don’t understand why.

We can spend all our energy fighting the waves, complaining that the water should be different. Or we can learn to swim.

Grateful obedience helps us learn how to navigate those waves. We do what is right, follow the rules that protect us, and listen to those who may know something we don’t. Instead of immediately assuming the worst, we pause and become curious.

Then we can look beneath the surface.

Perhaps a parent’s instruction is protecting us from a danger we haven’t noticed. Perhaps a delay gives us a chance to practise patience. Perhaps a frustrating moment shows us something we need to improve. Perhaps we discover a blessing we would otherwise have overlooked.

These are our little gems of wisdom. 💎

Allah tells us in the Qur’an:

“If you are grateful, I will surely increase you.”
Qur’an 14:7

Gratitude doesn’t mean pretending that everything feels good. It means learning to recognize what we have been given, even while we face difficulties. When we meet life with gratitude, we may begin to notice lessons and blessings that frustration had hidden from us.

And sometimes, we won’t discover the reason at all. We can still be patient, make wise choices, ask respectful questions, and trust that our knowledge is limited. We should think well of others without ignoring genuine harm or assuming that every human decision is right.

A wisdom diver doesn’t know everything hiding beneath the water. A wisdom diver learns to explore carefully.

💎 Our Hikmah Hunt

Ready to become a wisdom diver this week?

For the next seven days, let’s look for little gems of wisdom in our everyday lives.

Whenever something happens that frustrates you, or a parent asks you to do something you don’t want to do, try these steps:

1. Pause the waves. Before complaining or assuming someone has bad intentions, take a breath.

2. Do what is right. If the instruction is reasonable and safe, practise obeying without turning the moment into a battle.

3. Dive beneath the surface. Ask yourself:
   
   

   • What might my parent know that I don’t?

   • Could this instruction be protecting me or helping me learn something?

   • Is there anything I could do differently next time?

   • Is there a blessing or lesson I might be missing?

4. Write down your gem. Record what happened and your best guess about the wisdom you might discover.

5. Check your discovery. When the time is right, ask your parent about your guess. Perhaps you discovered the reason. Perhaps there was another explanation. Either way, you have learnt something!

You earn one point for each thoughtful insight you discover. The goal isn’t to guess what your parent is thinking every time. It is to practise looking beyond the surface.

And remember, asking questions isn’t wrong. Sometimes we need to ask questions to understand. We are learning to choose a good time and a respectful way to ask, rather than letting frustration make our first decision for us.

At the end of the week, let’s look at our discoveries together. What surprised us? What did we learn about ourselves? Did we understand someone else’s actions differently after learning more?

We can keep our Hikmah Hunt going for another week and see what new gems we find.

A thought to carry with us

We don’t always get to choose the waves that come our way. But we can practise how we respond to them.

Grateful obedience helps us stop fighting every wave long enough to learn how to swim. And when we learn to swim, we may discover wisdom beneath the surface that we could never have found while we were busy complaining about the water.

May Allah help us obey Him with grateful hearts, think well of others, and discover the wisdom He allows us to learn along the way. Ameen.

Laying Down the Rails to Jannah

Our First Habit: Obedience

A Little Beginning

Have you ever learned something that was difficult at first, but became easy after practicing it many times?

Think about learning to ride a bicycle.

At first, you have to think about everything.

Where should my feet go?
How do I keep my balance?
What happens if I turn?

You may wobble. You may fall. You may need someone to hold the bike while you try again.

But after practicing again and again, something changes.

Your body starts to know what to do.

You don’t have to think about every little movement anymore.

You just ride.

That is what practice does. It builds a pathway in us.

Our habits work in much the same way.

When we practice something again and again, that response becomes easier. If we practice patience, patience becomes easier. If we practice telling the truth, telling the truth becomes easier. If we practice helping, helping becomes easier.

But the same thing can happen with habits we don’t want.

If we keep saying, “I’ll do it later,” delaying becomes easier.

If we keep ignoring someone when they call us, ignoring becomes easier.

If we keep letting our feelings decide what we will do, following our feelings becomes easier.

So we want to be careful about what we practice.

Why Are We Talking About Obedience?

Our first habit is obedience.

Obedience means responding to a rightful command and doing what we have been asked to do.

Allah comes first. We obey Allah because He is our Creator and our Lord.

And Allah has also given people responsibilities and authority. Children have parents who care for them, teach them, protect them, and help them grow.

Sometimes Mom or Dad may ask you to stop playing and come help.

Sometimes you may be asked to put something away when you would rather keep playing.

Sometimes you may be asked to do something that feels very small.

And sometimes your first feeling may be:

“I don’t want to.”

That feeling may be real.

But feelings do not have to be the boss.

A person who is learning obedience learns to respond to what is right even when his feelings are pulling in another direction.

That is part of becoming strong.

What Does a Good Response Look Like?

Imagine Mom calls:

“Come here, please.”

There are many ways you could respond.

You could pretend you didn’t hear.

You could keep playing and say, “In a minute.”

You could say, “Why?”

You could sigh loudly and walk very slowly.

Or you could say:

“Yes, Mom!”

and go.

The difference is not only whether you eventually came.

It is how you responded.

A cheerful response says:

I heard you. I am ready to do what you asked.

That is the kind of response we want to practice until it becomes natural.

But What If I Really Can’t?

Obedience does not mean that you have to turn your brain off.

Sometimes there is a real reason you cannot do something immediately.

Maybe you are already carrying something. Maybe you are helping someone. Maybe there is a genuine problem that Mom does not know about.

You can explain respectfully.

You might say:

“Yes, Mom. I can’t do that right now because I’m carrying this. Can I do it when I finish?”

That is very different from simply refusing because you don’t feel like doing it.

We are learning to recognize the difference.

Why Practice So Much?

Because one day you will not always have someone standing beside you reminding you what to do.

The habits you practice now become part of the person you are becoming.

Your parents are helping you practice while you are young.

When Mom reminds you again and again, she is not trying to make your life difficult. She is helping you build a habit that will one day belong to you.

You may even become grateful for those reminders.

After all, learning to ride a bicycle took practice too.

Nobody said, “Just ride perfectly the first time.”

You practiced.

You wobbled.

You tried again.

And eventually, your body learned.

Obedience can grow in the same way.

We Are Building Something Bigger

This is not only about becoming children who obey Mom.

We want to become people who are ready to do what is good.

People who notice when someone needs help.

People who serve others.

People who can control themselves when their desires pull them somewhere else.

People who respond when they are needed.

People who treat the people around them well.

The Prophet ﷺ taught us about the importance of being good to the people around us.

So when we practice obedience, we are not simply practicing how to say “yes.”

We are practicing becoming people who are useful, dependable, generous, and ready to do what is right.

And that brings us back to our railway.

We are not going to lay the whole railway today.

We are starting with one small part.

One habit.

One response.

One piece of the path at a time.

And our first stop is:

Obedience.

This Week: Become a Habit Detective

Don’t try to fix everything this week.

Just notice.

When Mom or Dad asks you to do something, notice what happens inside you.

Do you answer right away?

Do you make them ask again?

Does your mouth say “in a minute” before you have even decided?

Do you automatically say “no”?

Or do you hear the request and respond:

“Yes, Mom.”

Then notice something else.

Sometimes an opportunity to help comes and goes because our old habits answer before we do.

Maybe someone needs help.

Maybe Mom asks for something.

Maybe there is a small good deed right in front of you.

And your first instinct says:

Not me.

Later.

I don’t want to.

You don’t have to fix every one of these moments yet.

Just start noticing them.

Because once you can see a habit, you can begin training it.

One response at a time.

One habit at a time.

And little by little, we are laying down the rails toward Jannah.

PARENT SECTION

Stop here. The rest of this lesson is for the parent.

Activity: “Mom Says!”

Play “Mom Says!” exactly like Simon Says.

Give simple commands:

“Mom says touch your nose.”

“Mom says jump.”

“Mom says clap three times.”

“Mom says sit down.”

The children should only obey when the command begins with “Mom says.”

After a few rounds, introduce the response you want to practice:

“Yes, Mom!”

The goal is for the child to hear a rightful instruction and respond promptly and cheerfully:

“Yes, Mom!”

Then do it.

Don’t turn the game into a lesson about explaining obedience. Let the repetition do the work.

The children are practicing a quick connection:

hear → “Yes, Mom!” → action

Keep it light and playful. The point is to give the body repeated practice responding without dragging its feet into a negotiation.

Now Change Roles

After a few rounds, let one of the children become Mom.

The real Mom becomes the child.

This is where you can have some fun.

The child gives you simple instructions, and you deliberately demonstrate different kinds of responses.

Sometimes respond very slowly.

Sometimes say:

“Hmm… in a minute.”

Sometimes pretend you didn’t hear.

Sometimes complain:

“But why do I have to?”

Sometimes act completely distracted.

Then try another version:

Child: “Mom, please put the book away.”

Mom:

“Yes, Mom!”

And immediately do it.

Let the children see the difference.

Then switch again.

Give the children a chance to act out the different responses themselves.

Don’t make it a lecture about being bad. Let them notice what each response feels like.

Afterward, simply ask:

“Which response felt nicest?”

“Which one made the other person want to ask again?”

“What did you notice?”

Keep the conversation short. The experience is the lesson.

One More Practice

For the rest of the day, choose a few ordinary moments to practice.

When you ask your child to come, help, stop, bring something, or put something away, give them the opportunity to practice:

“Yes, Mom!”

Then action.

Praise the habit when you see it:

“I noticed you answered right away.”

“That was a cheerful response.”

“You heard me and came straight away.”

You don’t need to turn every successful response into a celebration. The repetition itself is doing important work.

May Allah instill in them wisdom, righteous obedience, and hearts that willingly submit to what is good and pleasing to Him. Ameen.

An Introduction to Our Islamic Habit Curriculum

I want to share this journey with the hope that someone might benefit from our unusual experience.

We often look back at old traditions and immediately assume that children must have been oppressed, that parents did not understand children, or that people simply did not know how to live well enough.

So we look for something better.

We read the popular parenting books. We learn about connection, emotional regulation, filling our own cups, becoming better examples, respecting children’s feelings, giving them choices and space.

And there is a lot of wisdom in many of these things.

But sometimes, despite trying everything we are told to try, we still find ourselves struggling.

Then we blame ourselves.

Maybe we didn’t regulate our emotions well enough.

Maybe we didn’t model it well enough.

Maybe our own cup wasn’t full.

Maybe we weren’t connected enough.

And when a child repeatedly does something we don’t want them to do, we can eventually begin to wonder if something is wrong with us, with them, or simply with their “nature.”

But one thing I rarely heard was:

Have we actually taught the child what is expected of them, and then intentionally helped them practice it until it becomes a habit?

That question changed something for me.

The curriculum I found by accident

I came across a curriculum called Laying Down the Rails, inspired by Charlotte Mason’s writings and rooted in much older traditions of habit formation.

I found it through one of my homeschooling groups.

At first, I took it simply out of curiosity.

I was not looking for a new parenting philosophy.

I certainly was not looking for something from an older tradition because I believed older automatically meant better.

I read it because I wanted to understand what they were doing.

And one idea stopped me:

Obedience as a habit.

I had never really thought of obedience that way.

I had always assumed that children would learn these things by watching us, by being given enough freedom to make their own choices, and by experiencing the natural consequences of those choices.

That was very close to the way I had parented.

When I was a child, I was not particularly obedient myself. I did many things, made mistakes, and learned from them. When I became a mother, I wanted to give my children even more space to express themselves. I respected them and wanted them to feel respected.

I thought that if I became the example I wanted them to become, they would eventually absorb it.

There is truth in the importance of example.

But I started to realize that example alone is not education.

When someone discovers a principle such as gravity or a formula that explains how something works, we don’t expect every generation to rediscover it by watching the previous generation work.

We inherit knowledge.

We inherit experience.

We learn from what came before us.

Allah made us khalifah, and part of being human is that knowledge, experience, wisdom, mistakes, and discoveries can be passed from one generation to another.

So perhaps parenting should not mean leaving children to discover every important quality entirely by themselves.

Perhaps some things need to be taught, practiced, repeated, and cultivated.

What old traditions understood about children

When I began looking more closely at older educational traditions, I noticed something that initially looked very different from contemporary parenting.

There was a strong emphasis on teaching children to listen.

Listen to their elders.

Don’t interrupt.

Respond when spoken to.

Follow instructions.

Respect authority.

Obey.

At first glance, this can sound harsh.

It can sound as though the child is being denied a voice.

But I started seeing another possibility.

Perhaps the purpose was not simply to make children easier for adults to control.

Perhaps they understood that a child needs to learn how to listen before they can learn how to listen well.

They were deliberately cultivating qualities.

The child wasn’t necessarily being treated as an opponent.

The adults were trying to lay a foundation.

Of course, I am not saying everything from old traditions was good or that we should return to everything they did.

Absolutely not.

We have the Qur’an and Sunnah as our foundation, and these are far better sources for understanding character, worship, obedience, responsibility, and how human beings should treat one another.

But sometimes we know what our religion asks of us and struggle with understanding how to cultivate it in our children.

That is where I found this idea of habit formation unexpectedly useful.

We have been practicing obedience for eight weeks

Eight weeks ago, we started working intentionally on obedience, using the guidance and ideas from Laying Down the Rails and adapting them to our Islamic understanding.

I want to share what happened, week by week.

The stories.

The conversations.

The little games.

The things that worked.

The things that didn’t.

The resistance.

The reminders.

The funny moments.

The moments when I realized that I was practicing the habit too.

Because after eight weeks, I can honestly say that I see a difference.

My children are not suddenly perfectly obedient.

They still need reminders.

Sometimes I ask something and they don’t do it the first time.

Sometimes they ignore me.

Sometimes I have to remind them again.

But there is less resistance.

Something has shifted.

And surprisingly, I realized that something shifted in me too.

I was laying down the rails in myself

One day my mother was visiting.

She asked me to do something.

And before I had even thought about it, I found myself saying:

“Yes, Mom.”

And I went to do it.

There wasn’t that little internal resistance I normally felt when someone interrupted what I was doing.

I didn’t have to stop and negotiate with myself.

I didn’t think, But I’m doing something right now.

I simply responded.

And then I realized:

I had been practicing this habit too.

While I was searching for stories, thinking of games, explaining obedience to my children, and trying to convince them of the value of responding well, something was being cultivated in me.

Alhamdulillah.

Maybe this is part of what habit training really means.

We don’t always see the rails being laid.

We just keep putting them down.

One piece at a time.

And perhaps one day, the train simply follows them.

I hope my children will experience the same.

Maybe not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

But perhaps one day they will have children of their own, and something they practiced in childhood will suddenly come out of them naturally.

May Allah give them beneficial knowledge and wisdom, and allow the good things we try to cultivate to remain with them long after they have forgotten where they learned them.

Not obedience for obedience’s sake

There is an important distinction I want to make.

I don’t want obedient children simply because obedient children are easier to manage.

I don’t want them to become obedient workers who are perfectly trained to serve an industry.

I don’t want them to obey whoever is loudest.

I don’t want them to lose their ability to think.

I want them to learn obedience to Allah, obedience to their parents, and obedience to those whom Allah has given legitimate authority over them, while also developing wisdom.

They need to know how to recognize when something is wrong.

They need to learn how to stand up for what is right.

They need to know how to disagree respectfully.

They need to understand that obedience does not mean abandoning truth or wisdom.

And I want them to learn how to obey joyfully, gratefully, and willingly, not simply because they are afraid of what will happen if they don’t.

That is a much bigger goal than simply having a child who “does what they’re told.”

What are we actually trying to cultivate?

This is where I think our intention becomes extremely important.

We should not be training habits simply because they make our own lives more comfortable.

I want my children to be clean, but not because I am afraid of what people will think when they come to my house.

I want them to behave well, but not because I want to avoid embarrassment when I take them somewhere.

I want them to become knowledgeable and capable, but not because I have decided they must become doctors, engineers, or something else because that was my own dream.

I want them to be religious, but not merely enough to fit comfortably into our family or community.

The rails we lay down should not be shaped around our ego, our reputation, our preferences, or the life we imagined for them.

They should be laid down with the intention of making the path toward Allah easier for them.

We want our children to know that Allah is watching them.

That Allah cares for them.

That when something is difficult, difficulty itself can be part of their test.

That doing what is right when it is hard has immense value.

And that we are here to help them practice these qualities until doing what is good becomes easier and doing what is wrong becomes harder.

Strong-willed or simply untrained?

One idea in the curriculum challenged me quite a bit.

It questioned the way we sometimes describe children as “strong-willed” simply because they resist what they are asked to do.

We often use strong-willed as though it automatically means strong.

But is resisting every instruction really strength?

Imagine you are trying to avoid eating sugar.

You see a beautiful chocolate cake.

You know you don’t want to eat it.

And you eat the whole thing anyway.

Would you necessarily call that strength of will?

Perhaps not.

Sometimes what looks like strong will is actually a lack of self-control.

This doesn’t mean children are bad.

And it doesn’t mean we should shame them.

We all have weaknesses.

We all have strengths.

We are all in need of Allah.

And we are all servants.

If we don’t learn to be servants of Allah, we don’t become free from servitude. We simply become servants to other things: our desires, our habits, our impulses, other people’s approval, our own egos.

The same can be true of habits.

If we don’t intentionally cultivate a good habit, another habit can grow in its place.

If a child doesn’t develop a habit of truthfulness, lying, exaggerating, manipulating, or hiding the truth can become easier.

If a child doesn’t develop a habit of listening, ignoring can become easier.

If a child doesn’t develop a habit of obedience, resistance can become easier.

That is not because children are bad.

It is because habits are powerful.

We already understand this when it comes to brushing teeth.

We don’t say, “I’ll just model brushing my teeth and eventually my child will decide when they are ready.”

We help them do it consistently because we know what happens if we don’t.

So why would we assume that character is different?

Lay the rails, but don’t break the child

None of this means pushing a child until they break.

It does not mean harshness.

It does not mean demanding perfection.

It does not mean expecting a child to behave like an adult.

It means having a clear expectation and patiently helping them reach it.

Expect excellence without demanding perfection.

Keep the expectation.

Adjust the support.

Repeat.

Remind.

Practice.

Make dua.

And then do it again.

The goal is not to shape our children into whatever version makes us most comfortable.

The goal is to help them become the best servants of Allah they can be.

That requires intention.

It requires patience.

And, more than anything, it requires a lot of dua.

Laying down the rails

Charlotte Mason described habit as something much more powerful than we often realize.

She famously wrote that habit is “ten natures.”

I think there is something worth sitting with in that idea.

At the beginning, developing a habit can feel almost ridiculous.

You keep repeating the same thing.

You remind them.

They forget.

You remind them again.

They resist.

You explain.

You practice.

And sometimes it can feel like you are hammering away at a stone and accomplishing almost nothing.

But if we zoom out, perhaps we are not hammering a stone.

Perhaps we are laying railway tracks.

Anyone familiar with Canadian history knows that building the railway across Canada was an enormous undertaking. It involved difficult terrain, enormous human cost, and a deeply troubling history of exploitation and mistreatment, particularly of Chinese workers. I don’t want to romanticize that history or use it as anything more than an image for the scale of the work involved.

But the physical reality remains striking:

A railway does not appear because someone wishes there were a railway.

Someone has to lay the rails.

Piece by piece.

Over difficult ground.

And parenting can sometimes feel like that.

The work of developing character in a child may look almost invisible from one day to the next.

But that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.

So this is what I want to document here.

Eight weeks of obedience.

Now truthfulness begins.

And eventually, other habits.

I want to share the stories and games we use, the conversations we have, what surprised me, where we struggled, and what I learned about myself along the way.

Not because I have figured out parenting.

I absolutely haven’t.

But because perhaps another mother is sitting somewhere feeling completely alone, wondering why the things she has been told should work aren’t working for her family.

Perhaps she doesn’t need another reminder to “fill her cup.”

Perhaps she needs some practical knowledge, confidence, patience, and permission to take the reins of her parenthood again.

Not with fear.

Not with anger.

Not as an opponent of her child.

But with love, mercy, clear expectations, persistence, and trust in Allah.

The beginning can be painful.

Sometimes it can feel chaotic.

Sometimes it can feel like nothing is happening.

But perhaps, from the bigger picture, we are doing something very different.

We are laying down the rails.

One habit.

One child.

One day.

One step at a time.

And we ask Allah to make those rails lead them toward Jannah.

This is a complicated issue for me.

I have always kept some distance from having my own photographs alone. But when I had children, I made an exception. I wanted to preserve their childhood. I wanted to have something to look back on and not forget how they were when they were little.

I still understand that desire. I still have a hard time letting go of it.

But recently I started noticing another cost.

The more I carry my phone with the intention of taking pictures, the more my children notice it. And when they notice it, they sometimes start acting differently. They look at the phone, perform, repeat things, or act as if they are going to be captured.

It made me wonder whether, while trying to preserve childhood, we are changing the childhood we are trying to preserve.

I experienced something similar myself, even when I was only sharing things with our family WhatsApp group. I noticed that I wasn’t fully inside the moment anymore. Part of my attention was on experiencing it, and another part was thinking about capturing it and sharing it.

The audience doesn’t have to be thousands of followers. Even knowing that someone else will see the moment can change how we experience it.

This made me think about children and privacy in a different way.

Children should have moments that are not performed for an audience. They should be able to be silly, emotional, awkward, unsuccessful, or simply ordinary without wondering whether Mom is going to record it.

They also have a right to grow up without their childhood being permanently documented and interpreted by other people.

And now there is another problem that didn’t exist in the same way when we first started taking photographs.

AI can create images and videos that look real but never happened.

For a long time, photographs and videos were among our strongest visual records of reality. They became part of how we documented history, nature, science and human life.

Now we are entering a time when seeing something will no longer necessarily mean that it happened.

This makes me think again about the Islamic discussion around images.

Islam has a clear prohibition regarding making images of living beings. I have personally always found this difficult to reconcile with photography. Photography seemed so different from drawing that it was easy to assume that the ruling must be different.

I am not saying here that I have reached a final conclusion about photography, or that I am qualified to give a fatwa. There are genuine scholarly discussions about it, and there are also questions of necessity and benefit.

But I do think we need to revisit the question rather than simply assuming that because the technology is different, the wisdom behind the prohibition cannot apply.

One thing I have become more convinced of is that we should not expect to understand every wisdom behind Allah’s commands before accepting them.

If Allah prohibits something, there is wisdom in that prohibition whether we understand it or not. Our lack of understanding does not mean the wisdom isn’t there.

Perhaps some of the reasons become easier to see as technology develops. Perhaps there are reasons we still don’t understand.

And AI has made me think about this more seriously.

I am actually very grateful to live in a time when AI exists. There are things I can learn, organize and create with it that would have taken me enormous amounts of time before. I use it precisely because I don’t want to waste my limited time struggling with things that can be helped by a tool.

But the same technology that helps us create and preserve information is also making it easier to fabricate information.

That worries me.

If future generations inherit an enormous archive of photographs and videos but cannot know which ones are genuine, what happens to history? What happens to scientific knowledge? What happens when fabricated evidence can be made indistinguishable from real evidence?

For centuries, human knowledge has been built layer by layer. Each generation records, studies and builds upon what came before it.

AI could make that process much more difficult if we lose the ability to distinguish records of reality from manufactured reality.

In that sense, I sometimes think about a very different version of 1984.

Not necessarily a world where someone controls history by rewriting the records.

A world where the records themselves can no longer be trusted.

And perhaps this is one more reason to reconsider our need to record everything.

Maybe we don’t need a photograph of every precious moment.

Maybe sometimes we need to put the phone down and actually experience it.

Maybe our children need to know that when they are with us, they are not automatically on stage.

And maybe some moments can simply remain memories.

Not everything precious has to become content.

Not everything that can be recorded needs to be recorded.

And not everything that technology allows us to create is necessarily something we should create.

“When they said, ‘Surely Yusuf and his brother are more beloved to our father than we are, while we are a strong group (ʿuṣbah). Indeed, our father is clearly mistaken.’” (Qur’an 12:8)

Today, while I was reciting Surah Yusuf, this verse suddenly stopped me.

If I asked you, “Who is your Yusuf?”, you would probably place yourself somewhere else in the story. Maybe with the merciful Yaqub. Maybe with Yusuf (AS). Maybe even with the wife of Al-Aziz if you were thinking about Yusuf’s beauty.

But today I was struck by the possibility of being someone else in the story.

The brothers.

The verse says:

”…while we are a strong group (ʿuṣbah).”

That word, ʿuṣbah, kept echoing in my mind.

A strong group.

The capable ones.

The qualified ones.

The ones who believe they deserve more.

Their strength became their evidence that they should have been loved more.

As I kept reciting, I remembered moments in my own life when I quietly felt like one of the brothers.

In academia.

In school.

In research.

Even while studying philosophy.

I compared myself with others. I thought, I could have been as successful as that person. I deserved that opportunity. I could have held that position, earned that title, written that paper…

Not because I hated anyone.

But because I genuinely thought I deserved it too.

There are so many layers in this story. Every time I return to Surah Yusuf, I discover another one. It really is an ocean.

Today I asked myself,

Who are my Yusufs?

And suddenly my perspective shifted.

Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I became grateful for the things I never got. The positions I missed. The dreams that never happened. The doors that remained closed even though I felt I deserved them.

Why?

Not because I suddenly thought those people deserved them more.

Not because I now think I got everything I deserved.

No.

Because I kept thinking about the story.

What if Yusuf (AS) had simply grown up peacefully among his brothers?

What if they had never thrown him into the well?

At first, that sounds like the happier story.

But is it?

Suppose Yusuf (AS) grew up among them and one day Allah chose him as a prophet.

Now imagine the brothers standing there, watching the same younger brother whom they already struggled to accept become Allah’s messenger.

Would they have accepted him?

Or would their jealousy have become even greater?

Then another thought came to me.

Maybe the crime itself became part of Allah’s mercy toward them.

If they had never done something so terrible, maybe they would never have carried guilt.

Maybe they would never have recognized Yusuf’s honesty, mercy, generosity, and forgiveness.

Maybe they would never have softened enough to return.

SubhanAllah.

Even their crime became part of their path back to Allah.

And then I kept following the story.

If Yusuf had never been thrown into the well…

…he would never have gone to Egypt as a slave.

If he had never gone to Egypt…

…Al-Aziz would never have bought him.

If the wife of Al-Aziz had not become so blinded by her desire that she tore his shirt from behind…

…Yusuf would never have gone to prison.

If he had never entered prison…

…he would never have interpreted the dreams of the prisoners.

If that had never happened…

…the king would never have heard of him.

If the king had never heard of him…

…who would have prepared Egypt for the years of famine?

How many people would have suffered?

His own family included.

Every painful scene mattered.

Every delay.

Every accusation.

Every injustice.

Every prison cell.

Nothing in the story was wasted.

That was the thought Allah placed in my heart today.

It healed something.

Sometimes I still feel dissatisfied with the place Allah has put me.

Then I remembered the brothers saying,

”…while we are a strong group (ʿuṣbah).”

How many times have I also measured myself by what I thought made me “strong”?

My education.

My research.

My ideas.

My ambitions.

I always imagined my life somewhere else.

Honestly…

If you had asked me years ago where I thought my future would be, I would never have answered:

A wife.

A mother.

A homemaker.

That wasn’t even close to my wildest dreams.

I was ready to dedicate my whole life to finding a way to build teleportation.

Not this. 😂

Yet today I wondered…

What if all the places I desperately wanted were never actually my destination?

What if every closed door was as necessary as the well?

What if every disappointment was preparing something I simply couldn’t see yet?

I don’t know.

But Surah Yusuf makes me trust that Allah’s plan is infinitely wiser than my imagination.

The scenes sometimes look cruel.

Unjust.

Violent.

Yet behind them is a mercy so deep that only Allah could have written such a story.

So maybe, when we are living our Yusuf moments, we should try to have Yusuf’s patience.

When we are living our brothers’ moments, we should be careful not to let our desires and comparisons blind us.

And when we are living our Yaqub moments…

SubhanAllah.

I don’t even know how to describe that.

Yusuf (AS) carried a burden that only a prophet could carry.

But Yaqub (AS)…

His story as a father is one of the greatest lessons of tawakkul I have ever read.

If someone wanted to explain tawakkul, perhaps they could simply tell the story of Yaqub (AS).

In the end…

Alhamdulillah ’ala kulli hal.

Maybe the Yusuf I thought I should have become would not have been my salvation after all.

Today when I started reading Surah Al-Kahf, I felt I shouldn’t stop at one ayah, but instead look for the woven threads of wisdom, how they go so beautifully over and under each other. The picture is so big, too big for me to see the whole picture in one breath.

I always feel overwhelmed by the deep messages. At some point my brain and my heart get stuck in one loop of that beautiful whole sea of knowledge.

I love the stories, which we mostly focus on. We see the example of the youth, the example of the rich man, the example of the people of knowledge, and the example of the one who was given power over other people, like a leader or a king.

But my brain always indulges in the beauty that comes after the stories.

Today I was only able to go through the first two stories while trying to pick the gems and the light underneath them that come with the ayat after them.

After the Story of the Youth of the Cave

When the story of the youth in the cave finishes, right after that Allah says:

“And recite what has been revealed to you of the Book of your Lord. None can change His words, and never will you find besides Him any refuge.” (18:27)

As I reached this verse, I felt as though Allah was telling me to simply continue with what He has revealed.

Just keep reading.

The order of this surah is divine. The stories are exactly where Allah wanted them to be, and the verses that follow each story seem to uncover another layer of wisdom. I feel like my job is simply to keep following the light.

Then Allah ends the verse by saying:

”…and never will you find besides Him any refuge.”

It is as if my soul is being told where it can finally rest and settle.

If I can just keep following His light, maybe my heart will find the refuge it has been searching for.

Then comes the next ayah:

“And keep yourself patient with those who call upon their Lord morning and evening, seeking His Face. And let not your eyes pass beyond them, desiring the adornments of the worldly life. And do not obey one whose heart We have made heedless of Our remembrance and who follows his desire and whose affair is ever in neglect.” (18:28)

This ayah is so deep that it makes me stop. It makes me feel pity for myself for missing night prayers, and I ask Allah to make me better next time.

What I take from this ayah is that we should really watch who we are hanging around with.

It says to be patient with those who seek His Face.

The words “His Face” always make me stop.

We do not know what Allah’s Face is like, but we know it is the greatest gift and the most beautiful blessing in Jannah.

When I was a child, I was told that we would see Allah on the Day of Jumu’ah. I remember feeling upset because I thought, “Will there still be days in Jannah for us to count down?”

Later, when I learned the whole hadith, I realized I had misunderstood it. It wasn’t saying that we would only see Allah on Fridays. It spoke about the honour of Jumu’ah and those who give importance to that day. In shaa Allah, I will write about that hadith another time.

What I want to say here is that this ayah tells me there are other deeds we can do while seeking Allah’s Face. One of them, as I understood from this ayah, is waking up during the night and asking Allah for His Face together with people who want the same thing.

So better watch who you are hanging around with.

Because right after this, Allah tells us about the other people who will also be around us.

Until now, I always took these words as describing one person: someone who desires the adornments of this world, is heedless of Allah’s remembrance, and follows his desires.

But this time, the ayah made me reflect differently.

It made me wonder whether there are actually three examples of people who all say they believe:

1. Those who seek Allah’s Face.

2. Those who seek the adornments of this world.

3. Those who seek to please their own desires.

Maybe that is why Allah tells us to stay with the first group.

We need them if we want to harvest our fruits at the right time, or even to have fruits to harvest at all.

Then Allah says:

“And say, ‘The truth is from your Lord, so whoever wills, let him believe; and whoever wills, let him disbelieve…’” (18:29)

This ayah makes me think about where the other two paths lead.

The one seeking the adornments of this world works hard. He plans for the future. He plants gardens and watches them grow. But if he does not truly believe in the Day of Judgment, he ends up leaving the real harvest to dry out while standing there admiring the beauty of the garden.

The third one, the one following his desires, may not even bother planting carefully. He lets the land produce whatever it produces, or he only plans for today and invests just enough to get through the day.

Sometimes I wonder if many of us, myself included, fall into this category.

Then Allah gives hope.

“Indeed, those who have believed and done righteous deeds, indeed We will not allow the reward of anyone who perfected his deeds to be lost.” (18:30)

Then He describes the gardens of Jannah.

Allah never wastes the deeds of those who believe and do righteous deeds.

Even if we fall short…

Even if we forget His remembrance sometimes…

As long as we sincerely keep fighting ourselves and harvesting our deeds at the right time, Allah does not waste them.

There is always such a beautiful symmetry in the Qur’an.

It always shows both sides.

The resting place of Hell…

And then the resting place of Paradise.

The Story of the Two Gardens

Then comes the next story.

“And present to them an example of two men: We granted to one of them two gardens of grapevines, and We bordered them with palm trees and placed between them fields of crops.” (18:32)

Here comes another story, right after Allah tells us about the youth and their righteous company, and right after He warns us to be patient with those who seek His Face, not with those who seek the adornments of this world or those who heedlessly follow their desires.

Again, Allah gives another face of the same truth.

This time, through the story of the owner of the two gardens and his believing friend.

Before I even go into the story itself, there is another gem that I kept noticing throughout all four stories in Surah Al-Kahf.

It is the state of friendship.

Each story seems to show a different kind of companionship according to the blessing Allah gave.

The youth sought friendship with others who sought Allah just as they did, or even more than they did.

Those who become lost in the adornments of this world also need righteous company, because maybe that friendship will become the means of their guidance. Maybe Allah will turn their hearts back to His remembrance, even if the price is hardship in this world.

Those who seek knowledge have a different kind of companionship. Their relationship is that of teacher and student. They are not walking shoulder to shoulder as equals, but they are still travelling together.

Then there is the one in leadership.

To me, it feels as though leaders have no real friendship in this world. The summit is often lonely. Their closest relationship has to be either Allah’s friendship or Allah’s enmity. The higher the responsibility, the fewer people can truly walk beside them.

Then we return to the story of the two gardens.

Most people see the gardens as the greatest blessing the wealthy man had.

But as I kept reading, I wondered if his greatest wealth was actually standing right beside him.

His righteous friend.

The friend who had enough courage to disagree with him.

The friend who reminded him of Allah instead of kissing his shoes because he hoped to gain something from his wealth.

That friend was a treasure.

Sometimes Allah gives us someone who loves our Hereafter more than our dunya.

What a blessing that is.

Because through him, the wealthy man was reminded who had really given him everything in the first place.

The gardens…

The wealth…

The children…

None of them belonged to him.

They were all trusts from Allah.

Then, after the story finishes, Allah immediately says:

“And present to them the example of the life of this world: it is like rain which We send down from the sky, and the vegetation of the earth mingles with it. Then it becomes dry remnants scattered by the wind. And Allah is ever, over all things, Perfect in Ability.” (18:45)

Again, Allah connects the story back to the bigger picture.

The gardens are no longer just his gardens.

Now they become every garden.

This ayah always makes me think that every one of us has gardens in this life.

The water comes down from the sky.

Life itself is like that water.

Whatever we deliberately plant into the soil of our lives eventually grows into gardens.

Some gardens become businesses.

Some become projects.

Some become success.

Some become wealth.

Some become titles.

Some become children.

Some become influence.

Sometimes we don’t even plant much ourselves. Allah places rizq in our path, and we simply water it and care for it.

Other times we carefully plan our lives, planting seed after seed because we are hoping for a certain harvest.

Neither of those is the real question.

The real question is:

What do we do when the fruits finally come?

Do we harvest them in time?

Or do we become so amazed by them that we simply stand looking at them until they dry up?

I have been thinking about this analogy again and again every time I read this surah.

Then Allah says:

“Wealth and children are but adornments of the worldly life. But the enduring righteous deeds are better to your Lord for reward and better for hope.” (18:46)

Before the story of the two gardens, Allah warned us to be patient with those who seek His Face.

He warned us to be careful not to become people who seek only the adornments of this world or people who become heedless and simply follow their desires.

Now, after the story, Allah names two of the greatest adornments of this life so we can recognize them.

Wealth.

Children.

They are beautiful.

They are blessings.

But they are still adornments.

Harvest your fruits in time.

Don’t just admire them.

Don’t spend your whole life counting how much you earned…

How much you published…

How successful your project became…

How beautiful your children are…

Or even how many children Allah gave you.

They are beautiful.

But don’t leave the real harvest standing in the field until it dries.

Take it to Allah.

Turn it into righteous deeds that remain.

That is what stays.

That is what becomes hope.

As I kept reading, I found myself asking these questions.

Where is the water of my life flowing?

What am I taking as my fruits?

What fruits am I allowing to dry out and go to waste?

What am I harvesting from my life?

Am I simply foraging through whatever comes my way?

Or am I planting carefully?

Am I planning for beautiful gardens?

Or am I sleeping through the night and walking through the day, doing whatever I have to do and whatever I want to do, without stopping to remember what Allah wants from me?

That was my gem of the week from this deep ocean of wisdom.

I pray these reflections disturb me in the best way.

I pray they make me plant better.

And because I know myself…

Because I know I am naturally disorganized…

I also pray:

O Allah, when I fall short in raising my garden, let me still find good things to forage from what You have planted for me.

And when the gardens I worked so hard for collapse because of calamity, remind me of the real Owner.

Remind me where the real earnings are.

Don’t let me become so busy grieving over what I lost that I forget what You are still preparing for me.

Āmīn.

Table of Contents

Part I: Knowing Yourself

🌱 Roots & Wings SEL – Introduction

🌱 Roots & Weeks SEL Week 1 – Self-Awareness

🌱 Roots & Wings SEL Week 2: Principles & Identity

Roots & Wings SEL Week 3: Mindfulness – Presence & Awareness (Muraqabah & Hudoor)

🌿 Roots & Wings SEL — Week 4 : Heart & Feelings (Qalb & Aḥwāl) (Self-Appreciation + Emotions)

🌿Roots & Wings SEL Week 5: Worry & Gratitude (Tawakkul & Shukr)

🌿 Roots & Wings SEL Week- 6: Wonder & Imagination

🌿 Roots & Wings SEL – Week 7: self-Management and Coping

Part II: Living with Purpose

🌙Roots & Wings SEL Lesson 8— Niyyah Goals & Brave Responsibility

🌿 Roots & Wings SEL — Lesson 9-Social Cues: Face & Body Talk

🌿 Roots & Wings SEL — Lesson 10 Empathy - by Elif

🌿 Roots & Wings SEL — Lesson11-Choices & Consequences: The Courage to Tell the Truth

🌿 Roots & Wings – SEL Lesson 12-When Awkward Moments Grow Big Hearts

Part III: Seeing Life Through the Lens of Faith

🌱🕊️Roots & Wings – SEL 13-“The Tides of Life: Every Wave Brings a Gift”

Roots & Wings SEL 14: Allah’s Personal Training Gym

Last time, as we finished our tea, another curious voice asked,

“If prayer is for us… why five times every day? Isn’t that a bit much?”

Everyone smiled.

It does sound like a lot.

Until we ask another question.

Imagine a child saying,

“Why do I have to eat three meals every day? Isn’t one giant meal enough?”

It sounds reasonable.

Until lunchtime arrives.

Then dinner.

Then the next morning.

Our bodies were not created to be fed only once.

They need regular nourishment.

Not because food enjoys being eaten slowly.

Because our bodies need it.

Perhaps our hearts are more like our bodies than we realize.

Sometimes we think we know exactly what we need.

“I’ll eat when I feel hungry.”

“I’ll sleep when I feel tired.”

“I’ll drink when I feel thirsty.”

But have you noticed?

Sometimes we are already dehydrated before we feel thirsty.

Sometimes we become exhausted before we admit we need rest.

Our feelings are wonderful…

but they are not always the best guides.

The One who created us knows us better than we know ourselves.

Our hearts are no different.

If Allah had left prayer up to our feelings, perhaps many of us would only pray when life became difficult.

When we lost someone.

When we became sick.

When we were frightened.

When we wanted something.

But Allah does not only care for us in our hardest moments.

He cares for us every day.

Even on the ordinary days.

Especially on the ordinary days.

Think about your favourite houseplant.

Would you pour all the water it needs for an entire month into the pot on one day?

Of course not.

Too much at once would drown it.

Too little afterwards would dry it out.

Life grows through steady care.

Our hearts do too.

Allah, who created time itself, also chose the times of prayer.

Before the busyness of the day sweeps us away…

He calls us.

When the day is in full motion…

He calls us again.

When the afternoon grows heavy…

He calls us again.

As the day begins to close…

He calls us again.

Before we return to sleep…

He calls us one last time.

Not because He forgot us.

But because we forget Him.

How gentle is that?

Can we remember Allah more than five times?

Of course.

Just as we can drink water between meals.

Or enjoy a healthy snack.

The five daily prayers are the nourishment Allah made obligatory because He knows every heart needs them.

Everything beyond that is extra goodness.

Sometimes people think,

“Five prayers feel like a lot.”

But perhaps that is because we imagine prayer as another task to squeeze into our day.

What if we thought of it differently?

What if each prayer were a seat at Allah’s table?

A place where the soul is fed.

A place where worries become lighter.

A place where our hearts remember who they belong to.

Would five invitations from the Most Merciful seem like too many?

Or would they begin to feel like mercy scattered throughout the day?

There is something else I’ve often wondered about.

As women, Allah sometimes lifts the obligation of prayer from us during our monthly cycle.

At first, it can feel like a rest.

There is relief in knowing we are not required to stand for salah.

But then, for many of us, something quietly changes.

After a few days, the heart begins to miss it.

It is difficult to describe.

Almost like a thirst.

Or like holding your breath a little longer than you should.

Then the time comes when we stand in prayer again.

And it feels as though the heart takes a deep breath.

That experience reminds me of something beautiful.

Sometimes we only notice how much something nourishes us when it is temporarily taken away.

Allah did not choose five prayers because He needs to hear from us five times.

He chose five because He knows how often our hearts need Him.

☕ Tea to Think About

If Allah Himself lovingly chose five moments each day to nourish our souls…

perhaps the real question is not,

“Why five?”

Perhaps it is,

“What would happen to my heart if I lived on less?”

The kettle was singing softly.

Tea was poured.

Little hands reached for biscuits.

Then, as often happens in our tea circles, someone asked a question that made everyone stop for a moment.

She looked up and asked,

“If Allah really wants us to pray… why doesn’t He just make us pray?”

It is such a beautiful question.

Not because it is difficult.

But because it helps us discover something beautiful about Allah… and something beautiful about ourselves.

So let’s wonder together.

Imagine your mother calls,

“Come, dinner is ready.”

You answer,

“I don’t want to eat.”

Now imagine someone watching from outside the window.

They ask,

“If food is so important, why doesn’t your mother simply make you eat?”

Could she?

Perhaps.

But then ask another question.

Who is dinner really for?

Your mother…

or you?

If you refuse dinner, your mother does not become hungry.

You do.

She prepared the meal because she loves you.

Not because she needs you to eat.

Prayer is much like that.

Allah does not need our prayers.

He is Perfect whether every person prays or not.

But He knows something we often forget.

Our hearts become hungry.

Have you ever noticed something interesting?

Birds build nests.

Beavers build dams.

Spiders spin beautiful webs.

Each one follows the way Allah created it.

But have you ever seen a robin decide,

“I think I’ll build a nest with a chimney today.”

Or a squirrel open a grocery store?

Or a rabbit become an architect?

No.

Animals are amazing.

But they live according to the instincts Allah gave them.

Humans are different.

A cardboard box becomes a spaceship.

A stick becomes a magic wand.

A blanket becomes a castle.

We imagine.

We invent.

We write stories.

We ask questions no other creature asks.

“Why am I here?”

“Who made all this?”

“What happens after we die?”

Allah created us with hearts that long to search.

The Qur’an tells us that after creating Adam عليه السلام, Allah taught him the names.

From that beginning, human beings never stopped learning.

We build cities.

We discover medicines.

We explore oceans.

We study stars.

We keep asking questions.

Sometimes we use our knowledge wisely.

Sometimes we don’t.

But one thing never changes.

Our hearts are always searching for something greater than themselves.

Then Allah tells us something surprising.

“I did not create jinn and mankind except that they worship Me.” (51:56)

Some people hear that and think,

“So… are we only meant to pray?”

But perhaps worship is not what keeps us from living.

Perhaps it is what teaches us how to live.

A ship can be beautifully built.

It can have the strongest engine.

The finest sails.

The newest compass.

But if it sails without knowing where it is going…

it will still become lost.

Worship gives direction to all the gifts Allah has placed inside us.

From the very beginning, Allah never left humanity without guidance.

The first human, Adam عليه السلام, was also the first prophet.

Again and again, Allah sent messengers to remind people of Him.

Yet something interesting kept happening.

When people drifted away from Allah…

they almost never stopped worshipping.

Instead…

they worshipped something else.

Some worshipped statues.

Some worshipped the sun.

Some worshipped kings.

Even during the lifetime of Prophet Musa عليه السلام, after Allah had rescued Bani Israel from Pharaoh, they passed by people worshipping idols.

They said,

“O Musa! Make for us a god just as they have gods.”

Imagine that.

Their own prophet was walking beside them.

Yet their hearts still wanted to imitate what they saw around them.

Perhaps that teaches us something.

The question has never been,

“Will human beings worship?”

The real question is,

“Whom will they worship?”

Every heart has a throne.

Allah created that throne.

It can never stay empty.

Something will always sit upon it.

For some people, it becomes money.

For others, popularity.

For others, power.

For others, their own desires.

Allah did not create us without love.

He simply teaches us Who deserves that love most.

So why doesn’t Allah simply make us pray?

Because Allah did not create robots.

He created hearts.

He gave us the freedom to choose.

A flower turns toward the sun because it has no choice.

The angels worship Allah without ever disobeying Him.

But Allah gave human beings something extraordinary.

The ability to choose.

That means we can walk away.

But it also means we can choose to return.

And perhaps that is why returning to Allah is so beloved to Him.

Prayer is not something Allah takes from us.

It is something He gives to us.

A gift.

An invitation.

A meeting.

A chance to stop before life sweeps us away.

When we stand in salah, Allah is not becoming richer.

We are.

When we bow, Allah is not becoming greater.

He is already the Greatest.

It is our hearts that become lighter.

So…

If Allah wanted us to pray…

why didn’t He simply make us?

Because He wanted something even more beautiful.

Not moving bodies…

but hearts that willingly return to their Creator.

☕ Tea to Think About

Tonight, before you go to sleep, ask yourself one little question:

What sits on the throne of my heart?

Whatever we love most…

trust most…

and run to first…

slowly becomes what we worship.

May Allah always help our hearts choose Him first.

Until next time, when another curious little voice asks,

“But why does Allah ask us to pray five times every day? Isn’t that a lot?”

My dearest daughter,

Today, I was genuinely disappointed. We forgot your lesson, and we also forgot some of the other responsibilities we had planned for the day. More than the forgotten task itself, what saddened me was the thought that perhaps you are beginning to develop the habit of postponing things until “later.” Procrastination often disguises itself as forgetfulness, and that worries me because habits quietly become character.

But today is Friday.

As I reflected, my heart was drawn to Surah Al-Kahf, and it brought light to my own thoughts. I pray that the same light reaches your heart, too.

One of the remarkable themes woven throughout Surah Al-Kahf is forgetfulness. Allah doesn’t only mention it in ordinary people. He shows it through some of the greatest human beings who ever lived.

SubhanAllah.

Who are we to imagine that we will never forget, if even Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) experienced forgetfulness?

During his journey with his young companion, the boy witnessed something extraordinary: the fish miraculously came back to life and slipped into the sea. Yet despite seeing this incredible event with his own eyes, he forgot to tell Prophet Musa (peace be upon him).

When he finally remembered, he didn’t ignore it. He didn’t make excuses. He immediately admitted what had happened:

“It was none but Shaytan who made me forget.”

He recognized the source of his mistake and acted at once.

Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) did not scold him or dismiss him. Instead, they simply turned back. There was a consequence for the mistake, but it was a small one. They had to walk a little farther and retrace their steps. Eventually, they still reached their destination.

A delayed journey, but a happy ending.

The Qur’an repeatedly tells us that Shaytan is our clear enemy. If forgetfulness can be one of his tools, then we must stay alert. We should never become comfortable with forgetting or delaying what is important.

Because sometimes the price is much greater.

Our father, Prophet Adam (peace be upon him), also forgot. He ate from the tree after Allah had warned him not to. The consequence was leaving Paradise.

Yet the most beautiful part of his story is not that he never made a mistake.

It is that the moment he realized it, he knew exactly where to turn.

He did not blame anyone.

He did not justify himself.

He did not let his mistake define him.

He turned back to Allah in sincere repentance, knowing there was only one door to knock on.

Allah accepted his repentance, but the consequence of the action still remained.

Later in Surah Al-Kahf, Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) himself becomes the one who forgets.

Before beginning his journey with Al-Khidr (peace be upon him), Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) was told not to ask questions until explanations were given.

The first time he forgot and questioned what he saw, he immediately apologized.

“Do not take me to task for what I forgot.”

He asked for another chance.

The second time, instead of simply apologizing again, he placed a condition upon himself.

“If I ask you after this, then do not keep me as your companion.”

When he forgot once more, that condition came into effect, and their journey ended.

We don’t know what would have happened had Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) not spoken those words. Perhaps Al-Khidr (peace be upon him) would have still allowed him to continue. Perhaps they would have traveled a little farther.

Only Allah knows.

But what we do know is that Prophet Musa’s (peace be upon him) own words became the boundary of his journey.

From this, I learned one of the greatest lessons of my life.

Never speak with arrogance.

Never make absolute statements about yourself.

Don’t say:

“I’ll never do that again.”

“I swear I’ll never forget.”

“It’s all because of you.”

“It’s their fault.”

We are human.

We forget.

We stumble.

We fall.

And Shaytan patiently waits for those moments, hoping not only that we make mistakes, but that we react to them with pride, blame, or despair.

Instead, remain humble.

Always leave room for Allah’s mercy.

My dear daughter,

The moment you remember something important, don’t delay it.

Don’t ignore it.

Don’t let laziness whisper, “Later.”

Don’t let pride convince you that it doesn’t matter.

Even if the whole world gives up on you…

Even if one day I disappoint you…

Never, ever lose hope in the One who created you.

Allah has never closed His door.

When Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) realized his mistake, he didn’t defend himself.

He admitted it.

He apologized.

He asked for another opportunity.

That is true strength.

So when you make mistakes, be quick to say, “I’m sorry.”

Be quick to ask for another chance.

Then work with all your strength not to repeat it.

But remember something else.

You are human.

Even Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) forgot more than once.

This teaches us not only humility toward Allah, but also compassion toward ourselves.

Do your best.

Keep striving.

Repent quickly.

Stand up every single time you fall.

Because every action has a consequence.

The young companion walked farther.

Prophet Adam (peace be upon him) left Paradise for life on earth.

Prophet Musa’s (peace be upon him) journey of knowledge ended earlier than he hoped.

If we neglect our prayers, we lose the immense reward they carry.

Every choice carries a price.

But every sincere repentance opens another door.

So here is the strategy I hope you build for yourself.

Fight forgetfulness before it begins.

If you have homework, do it as soon as you can.

When the prayer time enters, pray without delay.

Remind those around you to pray too. If Allah allows you to be the reason someone else remembers, you share in their reward.

What if the very weakness you struggle with today becomes the reason you earn one of the greatest honors mentioned in the Qur’an?

The title of As-Sābiqūn.

Those who race ahead in goodness.

Imagine turning forgetfulness into urgency.

Turning weakness into worship.

Turning every fall into another step toward Allah.

Never give up.

Never surrender to hopelessness.

Every time you fall, whisper:

“O my Lord, help me.”

Then stand back up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Perhaps this struggle was never meant to destroy you.

Perhaps Allah gave it to you because He intends to raise you to heights your soul could never have reached without it.

May Allah make you among those who remember Him often, who hasten toward goodness, whose hearts remain humble, and whose character shines with wisdom.

May He honor your name in this world and the next.

May He grant you beneficial knowledge, deep wisdom, steadfastness, and a heart that always returns to Him.

Āmīn.

One spring morning, four children were helping their grandfather in the garden.

Jacob tried to lift a heavy watering can.

“I can’t!” he groaned.

His older sister, Zeynep, smiled and picked it up with ease.

“That’s not fair!” Jacob said. “Why are your muscles stronger than mine?”

Grandfather sat beside them.

“Come here,” he said with a warm smile. “Today I will tell you about the two kinds of gyms.”

“The two kinds?” asked Mariam.

“Yes,” Grandfather replied. “One gym is easy to see. The other is hidden inside every person.”

The Gym We Can See

Grandfather rolled up his sleeve.

“Look at this muscle.”

He gently squeezed his arm.

“When I was young, this wasn’t strong at all. It became stronger because I used it. Every time we lift something, climb, run, swim, or carry groceries, tiny little changes happen inside our muscles.”

“Do they get hurt?” Jacob asked.

“A tiny bit,” Grandfather said. “Just enough. Then Allah designed our bodies to repair them a little stronger than before. If we never use our muscles, they become weak. Weak muscles make many daily jobs harder and can make our bodies less healthy.”

“So exercise is like practice?” asked Zeynep.

“Exactly.”

The Gym We Cannot See

Grandfather tapped his chest.

“But Allah did not only give us body muscles.”

He pointed to his heart.

“We also have emotional muscles.”

He pointed to his head.

“We have thinking muscles.”

Then he raised his hands toward the sky.

“And every believer has spiritual muscles that grow stronger as they remember Allah, worship Him sincerely, and trust Him.”

The children became quiet.

“I never thought feelings could have muscles,” whispered Mariam.

“They don’t look like body muscles,” Grandfather laughed, “but they grow in a similar way.”

Allah’s Perfect Personal Trainer

“Who teaches these hidden muscles?” Jacob asked.

Grandfather smiled.

“The Best Teacher of all.”

“Allah.”

“Every person has different strengths and different weaknesses.”

“Some people become angry quickly.”

“Some become frightened easily.”

“Some struggle with patience.”

“Some find it hard to forgive.”

“Some become proud.”

“Some lose hope too quickly.”

“So Allah gives everyone different lessons.”

“Like different homework?” Jacob asked.

“Even better.”

“Like a personal trainer.”

A Training Plan Made Just for You

“If two children go to a gym,” Grandfather explained, “one may lift two kilograms while another lifts twenty.”

“No good coach gives everyone the same weight.”

“He chooses what helps each person grow.”

“Allah knows us far better than any coach.”

“He knows exactly which experiences can help us become wiser, kinder, stronger, and closer to Him.”

“So our tests are different because we are different?” Zeynep asked.

“Exactly.”

Allah never needs to guess.

He already knows what each heart needs.

Why Are Human Beings Different?

Grandfather picked up baby Fatima.

“Look at this little one.”

“A baby horse can run shortly after it is born.”

“A baby deer quickly learns to stand.”

“But human babies need years before they can care for themselves.”

“Why?” Jacob wondered.

“Because Allah gave human beings something very special.”

“A mind that can imagine, invent, create, choose, reflect, and worship Him knowingly.”

“Our brains continue growing for many years. Scientists have found that the brain keeps developing well into young adulthood, helping people improve self-control and wise decision making. As we continue living, learning, and reflecting, our judgment and life experience can keep growing for decades.”

Grandfather smiled.

“We are not created only for a few years on Earth.”

“This life is our classroom.”

“It is our nursery.”

“It is our training ground.”

Our Beautiful Cradle

Grandfather gently rocked baby Fatima.

“The Qur’an reminds us that Allah prepares and cares for us with great mercy.”

“This world is like a cradle.”

“In a cradle, babies are protected while they grow.”

“They are not fully grown yet.”

“Our souls are like that too.”

“Allah surrounds us with countless blessings.”

“Family.”

“Food.”

“Rain.”

“Friendship.”

“Laughter.”

“The Qur’an.”

“Prayer.”

“Then, between those blessings, He allows challenges.”

“Not because He hates us.”

“But because He is raising us.”

Emotional Muscle Day

The next day Jacob lost a game.

His face became hot.

“I don’t like losing!”

Grandfather gently asked,

“What muscle is being trained today?”

Jacob stopped.

“My… emotional muscle?”

“Yes.”

“What exercise?”

“Patience.”

Jacob took a deep breath.

He still felt disappointed.

But this time he smiled at the winner.

One tiny repetition.

One tiny improvement.

Just like lifting a small weight.

Social Muscle Day

Another day a friend said something unkind.

Mariam wanted to shout back.

Grandfather whispered,

“What muscle today?”

“My social muscle.”

“What exercise?”

“Kind words.”

“Listening.”

“Forgiveness.”

Sometimes social muscles become stronger through sharing.

Sometimes through apologizing.

Sometimes through helping.

Sometimes through speaking the truth kindly.

Spiritual Muscle Day

One evening the family received sad news that someone they loved had become very ill.

Everyone felt heavy inside.

Jacob asked quietly,

“What muscle is this?”

Grandfather answered,

“This is a day for spiritual muscles.”

“When life changes in ways we never wanted, we remember Allah.”

“We make du’a.”

“We pray.”

“We say dhikr.”

“We trust that Allah knows what we cannot see.”

“We do not pretend sadness is happiness.”

“We bring our sadness to Allah.”

“And He gives our hearts strength.”

The Secret Workout

“Do you know something amazing?” Grandfather asked.

“The strongest spiritual workouts often happen when nobody else can see.”

“When you choose honesty.”

“When you stop yourself from gossip.”

“When you forgive.”

“When you say Alhamdulillah after disappointment.”

“When you whisper Astaghfirullah after making a mistake.”

“When you wake up to pray.”

“When you trust Allah during uncertainty.”

Every one of these is another repetition.

Another lift.

Another step toward a stronger soul.

Don’t Skip the Workout

One afternoon Jacob watched swimming lessons.

Some children floated peacefully.

Others panicked.

Grandfather pointed.

“Notice something.”

“The water is the same.”

“So why are they different?” Jacob asked.

“The children who relax, breathe properly, and trust what they have learned float much better.”

“Our hearts are similar.”

“When Shaytan whispers,

‘Allah has abandoned you.’

‘You will never change.’

‘You failed.’

‘Don’t pray.’

‘Don’t repent.’

‘Give up.’

those whispers make the heart become tense.”

“A tense swimmer sinks more easily.”

“A tense heart can also sink into despair.”

“But Allah’s mercy is always greater.”

“When we remember Him, pray, repent sincerely, and continue trying, our hearts become calm again.”

Mistakes Are Not The End

Jacob looked worried.

“What if I keep making mistakes?”

Grandfather smiled.

“My dear boy, every believer makes mistakes.”

“The important question is not whether we fall.”

“It is whether we return.”

Allah loves sincere repentance.

Every time we honestly turn back to Him, our hearts can grow.

Sometimes the very mistake that made us cry to Allah becomes the reason we become humbler, wiser, and kinder than before.

Sins are never something we should seek, excuse, or enjoy. But when we sincerely repent, Allah can transform even painful moments into steps toward becoming better.

We Never Ask For Hardship

“Then should we ask Allah to give us difficult tests?” Mariam asked.

“Oh no,” Grandfather answered gently.

“Our beloved Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us to ask Allah for well-being and protection.”

“We do not ask for hardship.”

“Only Allah knows what each person can carry.”

“He chooses every training session with perfect wisdom and perfect mercy.”

“And He never wrongs anyone.”

Becoming People of Peace

Years passed.

The children became stronger.

Not only in their arms.

But in their hearts.

They became people who listened before judging.

Who forgave.

Who stayed thankful.

Who prayed when afraid.

Who trusted Allah when life became difficult.

People felt safe around them.

Just as babies feel safe in a loving cradle.

Grandfather smiled.

“Now you are helping others grow too.”

Roots & Wings Reflection

Next time you feel a very big emotion, ask yourself:

Which muscle is Allah helping me strengthen today?

• Is it my body muscle through healthy movement?

• Is it my emotional muscle through patience?

• Is it my social muscle through kindness and forgiveness?

• Is it my spiritual muscle through prayer, dhikr, gratitude, and trust?

Remember:

A weight is heavy only while we are lifting it.

A workout feels difficult while we are doing it.

But after many small repetitions, we become stronger than we ever imagined.

Allah, the Most Wise and the Most Merciful, is preparing every believer for a home far more beautiful than this world.

This life is not our final destination.

It is our training ground.

And every sincere step toward Allah makes our souls a little stronger for the everlasting life to come.

Qur’an Reflection

“Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear.”
(Surah Al-Baqarah 2:286)

“Indeed, Allah is with those who are patient.”
(Surah Al-Baqarah 2:153)

“Indeed, with hardship comes ease.”
(Surah Ash-Sharh 94:5-6)

Family Discussion

1. What “muscle” did you exercise today?

2. Which worship helps your spiritual muscles grow the most?

3. When you feel angry or sad, what healthy exercise can strengthen your emotional muscles?

4. Why do different people have different tests?

5. How can remembering Allah help us during life’s hardest workouts?

Email me if you are not able to print properly I can send original one.

“The Tides of Life: Every Wave Brings a Gift”

Dear one,

Some days feel light… like everything is easy.

And some days feel heavy… like something inside you is tight or upset.

That is not strange.

That is life.

Life moves like waves 🌊

It comes… and it goes.

There were children who used to sit by the sea with their teacher.

One day the waves were calm. The children laughed and played.

Another day the waves were strong. The water crashed loudly, and the children stepped back.

One child whispered,

“I don’t like these waves… they make me feel scared.”

The teacher didn’t answer right away.

She bent down and picked something from the sand.

A small shining shell.

“Do you know when this came?” she asked.

The children shook their heads.

“After the strong waves.”

The next day, they looked more carefully.

After the calm sea… not much changed.

But after the rough waves…

They found shells.

Smooth stones.

Tiny hidden treasures.

💎 The waves didn’t just shake the shore…

They brought something with them.

The teacher said softly:

“Your life will be like this sea.”

“Some days will feel easy.”

“Some days will feel hard.”

“But listen carefully…”

“You are not here to stop the waves.”

“You are here to learn… what they bring to your heart.”

Dear one,

Even the companions of the Prophet

Muhammad ﷺ

were not all the same.

Some were strong from the beginning.

Some were still learning.

Some made mistakes… even big ones… and then they made tawbah and became better than before.

They didn’t break.

They returned.

So when a wave comes to you…

When you feel angry…

When you feel sad…

When you make a mistake…

When something feels unfair…

Don’t think:

“I’m broken.”

Instead, gently ask:

💎 “What is this bringing me?”

Because every wave carries something:

🌿 Hard days bring sabr

🌸 Good days bring shukr

🌙 Quiet moments bring you closer to Allah

Dear one,

You are not meant to stay the same.

You are growing… wave after wave.

And each wave is shaping your heart into something stronger…

and more beautiful.

🌿 For Parents & Practice

Conversation starters:

• “What was one wave you felt today?”

• “Was it easy, hard, or mixed?”

Simple Activity:

Draw 3 waves:

• ☀️ Easy wave

• 🌊 Hard wave

• 🌥️ Mixed wave

For each, ask:

👉 “What could this bring to your heart?”

(sabr, courage, kindness, patience…)

Anchor phrase for the child:

“This is a wave… I will find my gem.” 💎

When Awkward Moments Grow Big Hearts

Assalamu Alaikum dear children,

Today we are building something powerful.

Not muscles.

Not towers.

Not robots.

We are building character.

And our lesson stands on two strong pillars:

📖 An ayah from the Qur’an

🕊 A teaching from the Prophet ﷺ

These are not just words.

They are guidance for how we behave when things get awkward.

🌿 The Qur’an Speaks First

In Surah Al-Hujurat, Allah says:

“O you who believe, let not one group mock another group. It may be that they are better than them…”

Allah is teaching us something very serious.

Do not laugh at others.

Do not make fun of them.

Do not point out their mistakes to embarrass them.

Because the one you laugh at…

might actually be better in the sight of Allah.

This ayah is like a shield. 🛡

It protects hearts.

🌙 A Story from the Prophet ﷺ

One day, a man came to speak to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ,

The man was very nervous. His hands shook. His voice trembled.

Everyone could see it.

It could have become very awkward.

But the Prophet ﷺ did not let that happen.

He gently said:

“Calm down. I am only the son of a woman who used to eat dried meat.”

He was telling the man, “I am human like you. You don’t need to be afraid.”

He made him feel safe.

He did not increase the embarrassment.

He removed it.

That is leadership.

🌿 Two Important Truths

When awkward moments happen, remember:

1️⃣ If It Happens to You

It is part of being human.

Spilling.

Stumbling.

Forgetting words.

Voice shaking.

You can whisper in your heart:

“Ya Allah, cover me and help me.”

Stay calm.

Stand steady.

Say sorry if someone was affected.

You are not your mistake.

2️⃣ If You See It Happen

This is your test.

Will you follow the crowd?

Or will you follow the Qur’an?

You can:

🟢 Ignore it and move on.

🟢 Change the subject.

🟢 Say, “It happens to everyone.”

🟢 Help quietly.

Strong people protect dignity.

🌱 Why This Lesson Matters

Some people laugh because they are nervous.

Some laugh to fit in.

Some laugh without thinking.

But believers think.

We remember Surah Al-Hujurat.

We remember the example of the Prophet ﷺ.

We choose mercy over mockery.

🌼 Let’s Think Together

1. Why do you think Allah warns us not to mock others?

2. How did the Prophet ﷺ make the nervous man feel safe?

3. If someone spills something in front of everyone, what can you say to help?

4. If you feel embarrassed, what can you tell yourself?

5. Which is stronger: laughing at someone or protecting them?

Dear children,

Awkward moments last a few seconds.

But the way you act in those seconds

builds the kind of person you will become.

Let your heart be guided by the Qur’an.

Let your actions follow the Prophet ﷺ.

And you will grow into someone who makes rooms feel safe. 🌿

Choices & Consequences: The Courage to Tell the Truth

Assalamu alaykum dear children 🌙

Today’s lesson is about something we all face — every day:

Choices.

Some choices feel easy.

Some feel scary.

Some feel heavy — because we know they will have consequences.

Islam does not teach us that believers never make mistakes.

Islam teaches us something more beautiful:

Believers choose truth — even when it is hard —

and they accept the consequences with trust in Allah.

🐫 The Journey to Tabuk

One year, the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ called the Muslims to prepare for a long, difficult journey:

the expedition of Tabuk.

It was:

• extremely hot

• very far

• and required real sacrifice

Some people went with full hearts.

Others… did not.

🌓 Two Different Choices

❌ The Hypocrites’ Choice

Some people stayed behind.

When the Prophet ﷺ returned, they came with excuses.

They said:

• “I didn’t hear…”

• “I had reasons…”

• “I couldn’t because...”

The Prophet ﷺ accepted their words outwardly —

but Allah knew their hearts.

They chose comfort.

They chose appearances.

They chose to avoid consequences.

✅ Ka‘b’s Choice

One companion, Ka‘b ibn Mālik (رضي الله عنه), also stayed behind.

But his story was different.

He had no real excuse.

When Ka‘b (رضي الله عنه) stood in front of the Prophet ﷺ, he could have lied.

He could have given a clever reason.

He could have escaped embarrassment.

But instead, he said:

“By Allah, I had no excuse.”

He chose truth — knowing it would be painful.

That was his moment of courage.

🌑 The Consequence

The consequence was not easy.

The Prophet ﷺ told the people:

“Do not speak to Ka‘b.”

For fifty days, Ka‘b (رضي الله عنه) was isolated.

No greetings.

No conversations.

No comfort.

Even the earth felt tight around him.

But Ka‘b (رضي الله عنه):

• did not complain

• did not lie to escape

• did not lose hope in Allah

He accepted the consequence — bravely.

🌤️ The Reward

Then… Allah revealed verses of Qur’an.

Allah accepted Ka‘b’s repentance.

Allah praised his truthfulness.

Allah made his story eternal —

recited until the Day of Judgment.

“And Allah has forgiven the three who were left behind…”

(Surah At-Tawbah 9:118)

Because Ka‘b (رضي الله عنه) chose truth:

• his name is remembered

• his patience is honored

• his struggle became light

And in the Hereafter — his reward is far greater.

🌿 The Believer’s Secret

Here is something very important for children to know:

Only believers have this promise.

For a believer:

• every situation holds goodness

• even mistakes can become doors to reward

• even hardship can raise a person’s rank

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“Amazing is the affair of the believer — all of it is good.”

A believer may fall.

A believer may forget.

A believer may struggle.

But if they:

• tell the truth

• accept responsibility

• try sincerely not to repeat the mistake

👉 They are successful — in this world and the Akhirah.

🧠 What This Teaches Us

Children learn:

• Lying avoids consequences temporarily

• Truth may hurt now — but heals forever

• Allah sees effort, honesty, and patience

• Brave repentance is beloved to Allah

And we remember:

Success is not never falling.

Success is standing up with truth.

🎭 Reflection Questions

Ask gently:

• Why was telling the truth hard for Ka‘b (رضي الله عنه)?

• What could have happened if he lied?

• How did Allah honor his patience?

Then ask:

“What should we do if we make a mistake?”

Answer together:

Tell the truth. Accept consequences. Try to do better. Trust Allah.

🤲 Du‘a for Truth & Right Choices

Let us ask Allah to help us see clearly and choose bravely:

اللَّهُمَّ أَرِنَا الْحَقَّ حَقًّا وَارْزُقْنَا اتِّبَاعَهُ،

وَأَرِنَا الْبَاطِلَ بَاطِلًا وَارْزُقْنَا اجْتِنَابَهُ

O Allah, show us the truth as truth and grant us the ability to follow it.

And show us falsehood as falsehood and grant us the ability to stay away from it.

This du‘a reminds us that:

• seeing the truth is a gift

• following it requires strength

• avoiding wrong also needs Allah’s help

Just like Ka‘b ibn Mālik (رضي الله عنه), we ask Allah to help us choose truth — even when it is difficult.

🌱 Roots & Wings Closing Thought

Believers are never truly losers.

Even when they fall — they rise higher with truth.

Ka‘b ibn Mālik (رضي الله عنه) chose honesty.

Allah chose him for honor.

May we choose the same…

Empathy: When Kindness Is Quiet

Assalamu alaykum dear children 🌙

Last time, we learned how to notice people gently — their faces, their bodies, and their quiet signs.

Today, we learn the next step:

Empathy —

not just seeing how someone feels,

but feeling with them

and caring about their dignity.

Empathy is not loud.

It does not show off.

It often happens when no one is watching.

And one of the most beautiful lessons of empathy comes from the family of the Prophet ﷺ.

🕯 A Night in Madinah (The Light Was Turned Off)

One night, a guest came to the home of

Abu Ṭalḥah al-Anṣārī (رضي الله عنه)

and his wife Umm Sulaym (رضي الله عنها).

The guest was hungry.

Abu Ṭalḥah (رضي الله عنه) looked at the food in the house.

There was only enough for the children.

Umm Sulaym (رضي الله عنها) understood immediately.

She gently put the children to sleep… hungry.

She prepared the food for the guest.

Then she did something very special.

She turned off the lamp.

Why?

So the guest would not see that they were not eating.

So he would not feel shy.

So his dignity would stay safe.

They pretended to eat…

while their stomachs stayed empty.

No one saw this —

except Allah.

🌿 What Is Empathy?

Empathy is:

• feeling another person’s need

• protecting their dignity

• caring more about their heart than your comfort

Abu Ṭalḥah (رضي الله عنه) and Umm Sulaym (رضي الله عنها) did not say:

❌ “Look how generous we are.”

❌ “Remember what we did for you.”

They chose quiet kindness.

That is empathy.

📖 What Allah Said About This

Allah loved their action so much that He revealed an ayah:

وَيُؤْثِرُونَ عَلَىٰ أَنفُسِهِمْ

وَلَوْ كَانَ بِهِمْ خَصَاصَةٌ

“They give preference to others over themselves,

even though they themselves are in need.”

(Surah Al-Hashr 59:9)

This ayah teaches us:

True generosity protects feelings — not pride.

🤍 Empathy Is Not Pity

We tell children clearly:

Empathy is not:

• looking down on someone

• feeling superior

• helping just to feel good

Empathy is:

• standing beside someone

• sharing their feeling

• keeping their pain private

Sometimes empathy looks like helping.

Sometimes it looks like silence.

Sometimes it looks like turning off a light.

🌸 Everyday Empathy (Child-Friendly)

Empathy can look like:

• letting someone go first

• sharing quietly

• not pointing out someone’s mistake

• not laughing when someone is embarrassed

• helping without telling others

And sometimes it looks like doing nothing —

just being present.

🚸 A Wisdom Rule (Important)

Children learn:

Be empathetic — but always be safe.

If someone needs help:

• tell a parent

• tell a teacher

• don’t handle big problems alone

Empathy works best with guidance.

🎭 Reflection Activity

Ask together:

• How did the guest feel that night?

• How would he feel if the light stayed on?

• Why was turning off the lamp an act of love?

Then ask:

“What is one way we can protect someone’s dignity this week?”

🌱 Roots & Wings Closing Thought

Empathy is not loud.

It does not shine under lights.

It glows quietly — in the dark.

And Allah always sees it.

Social Cues: Face & Body Talk

Assalamu alaykum dear children 🌙

Today we are learning how people speak without words.

Faces talk.

Bodies talk.

Voices talk.

This is called social cues.

Learning them helps us be kinder, wiser, and more respectful — just like our Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us.

👀 Common Social Cues People Learn

Let’s begin with what many people notice first.

These are commonly accepted cues — they are helpful, but not perfect.

🧠 Face cues

• 😊 Smiling → often happiness or politeness

• 😢 Crying → often sadness or pain

• 😠 Tight face or frown → often anger or frustration

• 😲 Wide eyes → surprise or worry

🧍 Body cues

• Leaning in → interest

• Turning away → wanting space

• Crossed arms → discomfort, cold, or thinking

• Still body → calm or tired

🗣 Voice cues

• Loud → excitement or anger

• Quiet → shyness, sadness, or focus

• Fast → nervous or excited

• Slow → calm or tired

These cues are useful signs.

But here is something very important to remember:

They are not the whole truth.

🌿 The Deeper Truth: Hearts Are Hidden

People don’t always show what they feel.

• Someone may smile while their heart hurts

• Someone may cry because they are happy

• Someone may laugh when they feel stressed

• Someone may stay quiet because they are thinking deeply

So we do not judge people by bair descriptions.

We remember:

Social cues are clues — not answers.

🕊 The Prophet ﷺ and the Little Bird

One day, the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ saw a young boy named Abu ‘Umayr.

The boy did not shout.

He did not cry loudly.

But the Prophet ﷺ noticed him.

He turned his face fully toward the child.

He sat close.

He smiled gently.

Then he asked:

“O Abu ‘Umayr… what happened to your little bird?”

The bird had died.

Look closely at what the Prophet ﷺ did:

• He didn’t say, “You look sad.”

• He didn’t guess what the boy felt.

• He didn’t ignore him either.

He asked a soft, open question.

And the child felt safe to share.

This is true social awareness.

🌸 The Sunnah of Face & Body Talk

The companions described the Prophet ﷺ like this:

• When he spoke to someone, he turned his whole body toward them

• He smiled often — but never in mockery

• He listened fully

• He made people feel seen

His face and body said:

“You matter.”

That is the best kind of communication.

💬 What Should We Say?

Instead of guessing or judging, we learn to ask gently:

• “How are you today?”

• “How do you feel today?”

• “I’m here if you want to talk.”

If someone is clearly hurt or crying:

• “Are you okay?”

• “Do you need help?”

We give people choice.

They can speak — or stay quiet — and both are okay.

🚸 A Very Important Safety Rule

Kind hearts must also be wise hearts.

Children should remember:

Be kind — but never help strangers alone.

Always bring or tell a trusted adult.

Some people pretend.

Some situations are unsafe.

The Prophet ﷺ taught mercy with wisdom.

🧠 Practice: Seeing With the Heart

Try this together:

Someone smiles.

Ask yourselves:

• Could they be happy? Yes.

• Could they be tired or nervous? Also yes.

Someone cries.

Ask yourselves:

• Could they be sad? Yes.

• Could they be relieved or grateful? Also yes.

Say together:

“I don’t know but but I will try to feel it and ask them how I can help or how are they and be helpful and kind always because I am muslim.”

🌿Introduction

Muslims don’t chase goals just to “accomplish” things.

A Muslim begins with niyyah — a pure intention for Allah.

Then comes amanah — the responsibility Allah gives us.

Then ihsan — doing our best.

And finally sabr — grit, patience, and steady effort.

Today’s lesson shows how a Muslim chooses meaningful goals and works responsibly — through the real childhood story of a young future leader.

🌟Young Mehmed’s Niyyah and Effort

In the beautiful Ottoman palace, there lived a boy named Mehmed. His days were full of learning. His teachers were some of the greatest scholars of the time — like Molla Gürani and Molla Hüsrev — who taught him Qur’an, manners, history, languages, and leadership.

Mehmed memorized the Qur’an when he was young. This helped him develop calmness, patience, and a strong heart.

When he was only 12 years old, something serious happened:

His father, Sultan Murad II, made him the governor of Manisa. This was a real job, with real responsibilities. Mehmed had to meet advisors, make decisions, and look after the people. Even though he was young, he treated it as an amanah from Allah.

During his learning years, he often heard a famous hadith of the Prophet ﷺ:

“Constantinople will be conquered.

How wonderful is its commander,

and how wonderful is his army.”

Muslims had tried many times before him, but the city was very strong. Mehmed respected this hadith deeply. He didn’t run around saying he would conquer anything — he simply understood that great tasks require great preparation.

So Mehmed kept training:

📘 studying more,

🕌 learning from scholars,

🗡️ practicing discipline,

🧠 thinking carefully,

💪 and staying steady even when lessons were hard.

This was real grit — what Muslims call sabr.

Years later, when he became Sultan at 19, he used everything he had learned. He strengthened the navy, improved the borders, worked with advisors, and made wise plans. He didn’t rush. He didn’t give up. He trusted Allah and worked with ihsan.

Finally, at 21, Allah gave him success. He entered the great city of Constantinople with order, fairness, and protection for the people — recorded by historians from many lands.

Mehmed became Fatih (the Conqueror) because he combined:

🌿 a sincere niyyah,

🌿 steady responsibility,

🌿 patient effort,

🌿 and deep trust in Allah.

His story shows that even when tasks are hard, a Muslim keeps going with a clean heart.

🌙Sunnah Duʿā: When Goals Feel Difficult

اللَّهُمَّ لَا سَهْلَ إِلَّا مَا جَعَلْتَهُ سَهْلًا وَأَنْتَ تَجْعَلُ الْحَزْنَ إِذَا شِئْتَ سَهْلًا

Allahumma lā sahla illā mā ja‘altahu sahlā,

wa anta taj‘alu al-ḥazna idhā shi’ta sahlā.

“O Allah, nothing is easy except what You make easy,

and You can make difficulty easy if You will.”

This is the perfect duʿā for:

• starting a goal,

• facing challenges,

• building grit,

• steady responsibility,

• and asking Allah to open the path.

🌱Islamic SEL Message: Niyyah + Grit + Flexibility

A Muslim sets goals with meaning, not just excitement.

We choose goals that help us grow, help others, and please Allah.

🌿 Grit in Islam means:

• trying your best,

• being patient,

• not giving up too quickly,

• working with ihsan,

• and trusting Allah with the result.

But grit is not obsession.

If something becomes harmful or impossible, a Muslim stays calm and adjusts.

We know Allah rewards the intention even before the action.

🌟 Root Principle for Kids

“Try with sincerity. Try with patience.

If Allah gives success, say Alhamdulillah.

If your path changes, say Alhamdulillah.

Your niyyah and effort are both rewarded.”

🛠️Suggested Activities

1. Niyyah Jar

Children write or draw a small goal.

On the back, write the intention:

“I want to do this for Allah.”

Reflect at the end of the week on the effort, not just results.

2. Amanah Match

List responsibilities:

• prayers

• chores

• kindness

• time

• knowledge

For each, write:

• “How can I do this with ihsan?”

• “How can I show sabr when it gets hard?”

3. Mehmed’s Preparation Map

Draw a simple path showing:

• Start

• Steps

• Challenges

• Helpers (dua, patience, parents)

• Final goal

Label it:

“My Goal + My Niyyah = My Amanah.”

4. Grit and Flexibility Talk

Ask:

“If something becomes impossible or very unhealthy, what is another good path Allah might open for me?”

This teaches strength without stubbornness.

Tonight, the tea steam rose in soft curls—like tiny question marks floating to the ceiling.

The room felt calm, but the little boy sitting on the carpet had a storm of thoughts in his mind.

He looked up at his mother, serious and thoughtful.

“Why am your son?

Why are you my mom?”

His mother didn’t laugh, not even a tiny bit.

Big questions deserve big respect.

She placed her cup down and began.

“We Fit Like Puzzle Pieces”

“Every person,” she said, “is like a special puzzle piece.

Your shape—your thoughts, your laughter, your energy—is unique.

And families are puzzles too.

A family puzzle only feels complete when the right pieces fit next to each other.

Some pieces look very different, but they click exactly where they were meant to help each other grow.”

The boy tilted his head.

“So… you mean you fit with me?”

She nodded.

“I didn’t know who my puzzle piece would be until you arrived.

But when you came… your piece clicked into the space inside me that had been waiting.”

“We Are Each Other’s Assignment”

“But why mine and not someone else’s?” he asked.

She leaned in closer.

“Because every child is an assignment for their parents,

and every parent is an assignment for their child.

Not a punishment.

Not an accident.

A special mission.

Your heart needs someone who teaches you strength, courage, gentleness.

And my heart needs someone who teaches me wonder, curiosity, joy—and patience.”

He blinked.

“So we help each other?”

“Every single day.”

“Sometimes Moms Feel Annoying…”

He frowned a little.

“But sometimes you correct me too much.

Sometimes you don’t understand me.

Sometimes you’re not young enough to play as much as I want.”

His mother nodded gently.

“I know.

In this world, I have to protect you.

Sometimes protecting feels like correcting.

Sometimes loving feels like stopping you from doing something fun.

Sometimes you want me to run as fast as you—but my knees say, ‘Nice try.’”

The boy giggled.

“But none of that means I don’t want to understand you,” she continued.

“Some days I get it right.

Some days I don’t.

That is the nature of this world.”

“…But in Jannah, We Will Be Best Friends.”

Then her eyes brightened.

“But let me tell you a secret about Jannah.”

The boy leaned closer.

“In Jannah, we will be the same age.

No tiredness.

No knee pain.

No ‘sleep early.’

No caffeine restrictions on tea or coffee.”

She winked.

His eyes widened.

“In Jannah, I won’t have to correct you anymore.

There is no danger to protect you from.

No misunderstandings.

No stress.

No running out of energy.

We will understand each other perfectly.

We will be best friends.

Not mom-and-son with rules.

Just… friends who love each other and get each other completely.”

“And tea?” he whispered.

“Oh,” she smiled, “we will have endless tea circles.

And coffee.

And juice.

And gardens with rivers underneath.

And a huge best-friends party that never ends.”

His smile stretched wide.

“So… we’re like training to be Jannah best friends now?”

“Exactly.

This life is the practice.

Jannah is the celebration.”

“Where Did Allah Come From? And What Did He Create First?”

Today the tea table held a heavier question — the kind that makes the heart lean forward:

“If everything has a beginning…

Where did Allah come from?

Who created Him?

And what did Allah create first?”

The cups glowed quietly, as if they knew we must walk softly around this question.

🌙 1. Allah Has No Beginning and No End

The Elder Sister spoke first with certainty:

Allah has no beginning and no end.

He is not inside time — He created time itself.

Our minds live inside beginnings and endings,

so the question comes naturally.

But Allah says:

هُوَ الْأَوَّلُ وَالْآخِرُ

“He is the First and the Last.”

— Surah Al-Hadid 57:3

“Al-Awwal” — the One before whom there is nothing.

“Al-Akhir” — the One after whom there is nothing.

Allah doesn’t come from anywhere.

Everything else comes from Him.

🖋️ 2. What Did Allah Create First? (Authentic Sources)

The Elder Sister placed a smooth stone on the table — something ancient.

We have authentic narrations about the first created things, and they help us understand order, not origin of Allah.

a) The Throne (‘Arsh)

Ibn ‘Abbas (ra) said:

كان عرشه على الماء

“His Throne was upon water.”

— Sahih al-Bukhari

And Allah tells us Himself:

وَهُوَ الَّذِي خَلَقَ السَّمَاوَاتِ وَالْأَرْضَ فِي سِتَّةِ أَيَّامٍ وَكَانَ عَرْشُهُ عَلَى الْمَاءِ

“He created the heavens and the earth in six days, and His Throne was upon water.”

— Surah Hud 11:7

This means before our universe, our sky, our time —

there already existed the ‘Arsh and water by His command.

Not a human throne.

Not a sitting place.

It is a majestic creation that represents Allah’s greatness,

described in words we can comprehend.

b) The Pen (Al-Qalam)

The Prophet ﷺ said:

أَوَّلُ مَا خَلَقَ اللهُ الْقَلَمَ

“The first thing Allah created was the Pen.”

— Sunan Abu Dawud (hasan according to many scholars)

And He told it:

اُكْتُبْ (“Write.”)

It wrote everything that would ever exist.

Again —

not a wooden pen, not ink.

A creation whose “writing” is known only to Allah.

These are real realities,

but their nature is far beyond our senses.

🌌 3. The Creation of the Heavens and Earth

Allah describes how He shaped our visible universe:

ثُمَّ اسْتَوَىٰ إِلَى السَّمَاءِ وَهِيَ دُخَانٌ

“Then He turned to the sky, which was smoke…”

— Surah Fussilat 41:11

فَسَوَّاهُنَّ سَبْعَ سَمَاوَاتٍ

“…and He made them seven heavens.”

— 41:12

And:

ثُمَّ اسْتَوَىٰ عَلَى الْعَرْشِ

“Then He rose over the Throne.”

— Seven places in the Qur’an

These words — istawā, ‘Arsh, Pen, Smoke —

are true,

but not like our human meanings.

They are Allah’s way of teaching us

without crushing our little human minds.

Just as a mother uses simple words to explain vast things to a child.

🦠 4. Why We Cannot Ask “Who Created Allah?”

The Elder Sister brought out a jar of water —

like a silent universe.

Inside, she said, imagine a tiny bacterium.

It knows nothing about:

• rooms

• hands

• humans

• sky

• years

• direction

• beginning or end

Its little world is all it knows.

We are even smaller compared to Allah.

Our “dimension-brain” cannot comprehend a Being outside time,

outside cause,

outside direction,

outside “before” and “after.”

So Allah teaches us what our hearts can hold.

No one created Him.

He is the One who creates creators.

He is the First without a beginning.

The Necessary Being.

Without Him, nothing else could exist.

🌿 5. A Soft Ending for the Tea Circle

Some truths are not puzzles to solve —

they are windows to open.

Allah is beyond the stories of beginnings

because He is the Author of beginnings.

We stand inside His creation

with hearts made to seek Him,

not to surround Him with our imagination.

And the tea — warm, quiet —

tastes different when a truth settles in the soul.