{Quick Reflections 10} It is all about the Heart

I recieved the following reflection from someone who prefers to remain anonymous. I guess it is more or less the story of everyone of us. The core is the same to most of us but the details are different. However the writer here manages to illustrate those precious feelings very vividly ma shaa ALLAAH.
Enjoy.



Got out of the car and hurried towards the mosque for the last taraweeh prayer that Ramadaan. My daughter's hand, my coffee, my purse, my Qur'aan, my prayer beads, was the baggage I had to carry along. I had other baggage too weighing on my heart and burdening my soul and I wondered if I would be relieved of that that night.


I was late, I barely made it to the last rakca of cishaa'. Is it too late?


There I was again, standing in taraweeh prayer for the last time; listening to the Imaam choking up in his moving recitation whenever he comes across an aayah of mercy or that of hellfire. There I was again with body and soul in complete harmony elated by an unmatched fulfillment, ecstatic to tears, yet overwhelmed by restlessness and anticipation. There I was again, lightly touched on both sides by the sisters of angelic faces next to me. There I was conjuring up my strength to be all there for Him and with Him one more time.


I could smell the light sweet scent of the carpet. I will miss this. I will miss the closeness I feel when I am whispering to my Lord in my prostration. In my very first sujood that Ramadaan and in that very same spot, I smiled thanking my Lord for bringing me back one more time in spite of it all. I told Him how much I missed being in that pure gracious place. That last night, the way that sweet scent embraced my face and forehead compelled me to prolong my sujood. I had to make ducaa' in that sujood. What should I say? Whom should I start with? There was not enough time. A soft nudge on the side would remind me every now and then to get up already, but there was not enough time; not enough time.


What happened to each rakca? Why are they that short? Why isn't the Imaam reading long segments of the Qur'aan like he used to? Or was he? Why did the first 4 rakcas end that soon? Why was the lesson in the break that short? I was looking forward and almost counting on it to fill me with awe, to remind me of steadfastness and to bid due farewell to Ramadaan. But it was not any of that. Or was it? I was waiting for something. I was waiting for a sign. Am I released yet? Have the gates I have been beseeching at all that month opened yet? I did not want the prayers to end, but they did.


Witr time, very last rakca, very last chance, dimmed lights, heaving hearts, breathless souls, poor hands raised one last time to their Lord. I was so tired. That was the end of the road. I raised my hands one last time that night, but it was not with the persistence and resolution of previous times, nor was it with the frequent imploring and pleading. This time it was utter weariness and complete submission. I hardly found the voice to repeat "Aameen" after the Imaam. My whole being was at His mercy now. My past, present and future; my destiny is in His hands now. No flowing tears would calm the turbulence inside, and no shaking would reveal my inner turmoil. Done was the ducaa'. Over was the last rak ca, and I remained there, sitting on the ground making my own ducaa'. Do not let go of me even when I am too unmindful to be there. Do not deprive me from this even when I do not deserve it. Bestow Your mercy on me even when I am unworthy of it. Guide me to Your path every time I go astray. Take my hand every time I fall. I am not coming to You this time with much worshipping or a record to be proud of. I am coming to You with a heart that finds no pleasure anywhere else if You are not content with me. I have nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. Grant me steadfastness, grant me steadfastness, grant me steadfastness.


I had to get up. I had to go home. Friends came to me to bid me farewell, hugging me, consoling me for the loss of my loved month. I could not smile back to them. I could not say a word in my besieging grief. What would I say? It was over. I have not done much at all. Have I wasted my chances? Have I failed in enduring my afflictions and passing my tests? "Don't go yet," I felt like crying out. "Don't go yet," I felt like calling out for the angels. "Don't end yet," I felt like begging Ramadaan, "I still need you."


On my way back, I could not take my eyes off the beautiful clear sky. I was so keen in the last 10 days to look for a sign, any sign, that it was Laylat al-Qadr. I have seen clouds, I have seen freezing rain, I have seen sparkling stars, but I have not seen the sign.

Little did I know that the sign has always been there in my very heart. Loving the Lord is the sign, longing for His contentment is the sign, striving to please Him is the sign, longing for closeness and turning the heart, the soul, and whole being to Him and to Him only is the sign. That was the sign. It is all about the heart!


May Allaah (SWT) forgive us, bestow mercy on us and grant us steadfastness and plenty more Ramadaans to purify our souls and bring us much closer ISA.