American Muslima Writer -Daring to Work Towards Jannah

Our souls deep within strive and struggle everyday to search for a way to find that deep inner peace, that oneness with the universe and the Creator of All. Realizing your place in the finite yet absolutely enormous reaches of space. Feeling in your heart and mind the answer to lifelong questions that beseech humanity.


Why are we here? What is our purpose in this life? What happens after we die? How can we achieve inner peace and contentment no matter our lot in life?

Many of us in this world and especially those of us in the blogosphere have searched long and hard for these answers. Yet I feel most of us have forgotten this long struggle for our souls. Upon discovering the beauty and perfection in Islam we immediately adapted our lives to follow the ways of our Blessed Prophet Muhammad Sallahu Alayhi wa Salim. We struggled day and night everyday of our lives to learn the words of the prayers and to push our bodies to accept the fasting we willed upon it for the sake of our Lord. Even in poverty we spent from our means to help others and at times we felt it. That peace. That deep inner peace. We feel Allah, our One, Beloved God, and the feeling brings us that peace until tears flow down our faces in gratitude.

Then the troubles and trials of the world interfere and slowly slowly ever so slowly we start forgetting. Easing farther and farther away from that peace. Frustration, sadness, depression, pain, anger, laziness, and exhaustion overwhelm our minds and hearts and we bob out our prayers more like robots than Muslims. We fast trying to sleep as much possible to make only a few hours of pain until we can stuff our faces with the feasts we prepared. Then comes the night, the Night of Power. Therein we strive to make up that lost ground and return to the fold of peace that enveloped our souls at the beginning of our journey in Islam. Some of us succeed and other spend the night in laughing, gossip, and chatter, or worse.

I KNOW that we are faced with ups and down in our Imans. I do know and accept this, BUT....

Just this week I realized I said Shahada August 5, 2001. It has been almost a decade since I said Shahada. A DECADE!


I find it absolutely unacceptable and pathetic that I am not more proficient in Islam. It is unacceptable and pathetic to me that I have not achieved a constant, or EVEN weekly, inner peace.


My soul craves that peace like no other thing right now.


Had I gone to University to become a Doctor I'd have managed to become a Neurological Surgeon by now. How is it then that I have not managed to learn to read Arabic better or speak it more fluently or memorized more Qur'an? How is it I still Struggle to remember to pray my 5 prayers on time without missing one. How is it I used to manage Sunnah Prayers yet now I don't have time? How is it possible that I am not better in Islam.

Islam is Submission to Peace. By following it (Islam) you find that Inner Peace. So by conclusion I can only surmise I am not following it enough. I am missing out on something essential that is not letting me attain this peace within. Am I doing sins? Probably as we all sin. But am I seeking forgiveness and repentance from these sins? Am I beseeching Allah Subhana wa Ta'ala for his forgiveness and to bring myself closer to Him. Am I dedicating my life to His service and way provided by the teachings of the Peaceful Muhammad Sallalahu Alayhi wa Salim? Am I immersing myself too much in worldly life and not enough in spiritual life? Am I forgetting how short this life is and how soon I will be in my grave wishing I had spent my youth and time in Prayer? I must search more to continue the struggle towards Allah.

Those who have experienced Depression fully know the fog that envelopes the mind that lets nothing through with clarity and happiness. Everything is hazy. Not necessarily like you can't physically see but you can't mentally grasp what you see as well. You know it's a tree but you just don't care to look at it closely cause it's so darn far away and blurry. Other thing besides depression can color the way you see things.

Religion is one: This is my personal experience so feel free to disagree nicely but I'm just sharing. When I was first Christian I did see clearly but there were so many questions and problems I had where things didn't add up that I felt like my lens was cracked. Sure I could look at things clearly if I craned my head this way and that and ignored the cracks. But I'm a big picture person, the cracks were always there. I needed a new lens.

I fitted on the lens of Islam, the religion of Peace and Unity. And found the clarity refreshing. You can see the whole and the small and all the colors. It feels "just right". No more cracks, No more fog.

Strange emotions can easily cause you to think perhaps Islam is not clarity when in reality it is Satan (Shaytan) playing tricks with your color schemes -your emotions. Sometimes you feel sad yet not depressed and everything appears blue. When you work on over coming it by relaxing, problem solving, and renewing your faith in Allah.

Though after your breakthrough you may think the world all rosy again and unable to take off your rosy lens but you must live in moderation. The sky IS blue not pink. Revel in your ability to see a clear blue sky for what it actually is. Without fog, cracks, and multi-colored hues.

I understand that many believe Music is Haram. I know there are certain texts forbidding certain things in certain ways with certain conditions. I do know this in my heart. But applying most of them has been one of the hardest jihads I've had to make as a Muslim.
Music has been such a big part of my life and I'd like to share that experience with all of you. Grab a cup and a comfortable cushion.

It is an amazing feeling; sound. You can feel the vibrations of it through your body. It accelerates your pulse and drifts your mind into a new realm of thought.
As a young child I never knew songs. They were forbidden. My biological mother is Jehovah's Witness. It was only when placed in Foster Care that I learned about this fascinating subject. One home in particular really broadened my exposure. They had the radio pumping almost 24/7. I had never heard music or a radio before so I asked them about it. I was 4 then.
"What is that sound? Why do you dance to it? What are you doing? What is it saying?"
The teenagers gawked at me.
"It's Music. Haven't you heard music before? We are singing and dancing with it for fun. The songs say special things to make people think hard. Come listen! Try to sing with us!"
::When the night, has come, and the land is dark, and the moon, is the only, light we'll see, no I wont, be afraid, no I wont, shed a tear, just as long, as you stand, stand by me, stand by me. If the sky, that we look upon, should tumble and fall, or the mountains should crumble tot eh sea, no I wont, be afraid, no I wont be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me.:::into instrumental chorus:::
So I sang and sang! OH HOW I SANG this over and over. Soon I was learning more and more songs as I absorbed the radio. This was the year 1988. Then they introduced me to heavy metal. They'd get together with their guitars and loudly turn up Guns N Roses' "Paradise City". They'd belt out the lyrics until I too had memorized them and they cheered me on as I sang :::take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty, oh wont you please take me home!:::
The next foster home listened to a different kind of music I'd never heard before called Oldies. They had the car and house radios firmly fixed to the Oldies Station and I learned all about the Beatles, Elvis, and other classics.
Another foster home later about 1991 for a Christmas present I got a personal hand held battery stereo which I carried around all-day everyday and even fell asleep listening to the new age of music "The 90s" Salt N Peppa told me I don't want no short short man, Kriss Cross will make me Jump Jump, Sir Mix A Lot assured me that if my butt ever got really fat that's ok cause men like it like that. Mariah Carey stole my breath away, Paula Abdul taught me to watch out for cold-hearted playboys, and to look into his eyes, he's been telling lies. Oh and who can forget I'm too Sexy for my shirt!?!?! I used to strut down the empty neighborhood street radio to my ear Jamming "I'm too sexy for my shirt too sexy it hurts! And I do my little turn on the catwalk!"
Vanilla Ice was the coolest ever and THEN i went to the neighbors house and she had someone called Madonna posters everywhere. I fell in love! She was my new favorite for Soooo long.
After this I moved in with my parents and got used to their brand of music, Oldies, Soft Rock, and Easy Listening. Also my dad had a love for cowboy themed music. So I learned a whole bunch of new singers while remaining true to my 90's new stuff.
I managed to find a free music video channel and watched so many of the songs I had known and loved. A few times I heard something called rap but back then it was just the scratching of records more than lyrics for me and I wasn't into it. I also heard something called Country around this time while station hopping and it was always so sad and slow and I preferred to jam it. Until I met my childhood best friend Nicolette. Her family (which I practically grew up with) was heavily into country. Soon it entered my heart too. We would giggle and dance the night away to "Who's bed have your boots been under". Her brother though favored Rap. While listening to him blast it every weekend I started liking it too and as it re-entered mainstream radio I got to like it more and more.
My paternal grandparents though had a large influence on my music tastes. They loved classical and really old stuff from the 40's. I watched old Musical Movies and fell head of heels with Opera and Musicals. My grandparents have a large piano Organ with a set of Pipes too in the living room. They also had an upright piano they let me bang on. I was so fascinated. They told stories of glory days when they had organ Clubs and my Grandma sung in a choir as a beautiful Soprano. They showed me pictures of when I was just 1 or 2 years old visiting them and playing on the same Organ in their house. Under one picture of my biting my lip in concentration it reads the caption "Future Musician?" My family has a long history of Musical Talent. Which delighted me because with my low-self-esteem I needed SOMETHING to be good at!
in 4th grade we had the option to take Orchestra or Band Class at school. The shiny Trombones and beautiful high pitched flutes appealed to me but my mom kinda put a cork in those dreams. "Ohhh No, do you know what those sound like played badly? Please spare our ears!" So we went next to the Orchestra presentation. I again liked the high violin but Mom warned me again it's squeaky when played wrong but she liked it's size and that it was the cheapest instrument. I, being above pricing my love of items at the time, disdained it cheaper price. The viola was close in size and sound but it didn't attach my heart. Next came something amazing!
He (the teacher) SAT down to play the Cello. As soon as he ran the bow across those mello strings I again was in love. He played the Jaws theme song and I though that was cool the violins couldn't do it Justice only the Cello. After that came the double bass. It was so awesome but the teacher said he didn't have any available for student use (it's a poor public school) and someone would have to rent one which could be expensive. By my parent's exchanged looks i could tell they were about to convince me not to take that one. So I chose the Cello to play and was one of three girls to learn it and the Bass Clef needed to play music for it. It was my outlet for creativity and I was always excelling in this class. I had found something I was good at and I practiced as much as I could. Every year (except 6th which didn't have an orchestra) I played Cello and practiced on it until 12th grade. That was 8 years I played it and I won a few awards and was allowed to play in a Honor Orchestra.
But as I got older the competition grew as more cellists invaded my territory. I managed to beat for half a year the best player in 8th grade to keep my position as "1st Chair" the leader. But when we hit high school with MORE players and some of them MUCH better than me I became discouraged. If i wanted to do something I wanted to be the best at it I could be. After some orchestra drama between me and some of the fellow cellists who i fiercely hated because they were idiot boys who liked to make fun of me I decided to try something new that was offered.
"We only have one bass player and we really need more to round out the sound so if any cellist would like to take up Bass this year I will keep you in this advanced class since you can already read the bass clef." I took my chance and raised my hand to switch. I was the only one to do so. I met my music stand partner Anthony (Tony). He and I were to be casual friends over the next four years that I played bass. he was a chilled out part italian guy who didn't care who was first chair and although he was really good he preferred to stand in the second chair spot. So I got the glory at the concerts but we both knew when he beat me for first chair off and on it was fair though sometimes I did win. I was able to join the Symphonic after school orchestra and then my favorite part was playing in the Orchestra Pit (as the only Bass!) for the school Musical Oklahoma. At one point it was me, the piano, and the lead male vocal going together in harmony on his solo. It was one of the most special moments of my life. I was sooo proud that I was good at something MUSIC.
Meanwhile in 9th grade we moved into my grandparents home and I played almost daily on their piano learning to read the higher treble clef and singing along. In high school my friends and I also joined the choir and would spend our days wandering the halls with songs in our heads. I was known as the "locker-room singer" (by a few girls) because I had PE right after choir class and I could never stop singing and I'd get some other girls to go in too. It was fun.
At this time in 9th grade also I loved Rock on the radio and did my punk rebel thing with the black lipstick and spiky hair lol.
Besides drawing in Art, Music let me express my emotions in a way i wasn't able to with just words. The feel of dragging the thick rosined bow across the heavy deep resonating bass strings and having the purring waves run through the back of the instrument to my side and stomach and flying my fingers across the fingerboard was so fulfilling. It was peaceful. You felt in touch with the world. At concerts it was awesome putting all those sounds together to make something amazing that moved the audience. I loved concert nights. My friends and I getting dolled up and playing with all our hearts. There was something elegant about orchestra that band never had. They were awesome too but i was at home in the strings.
Until my last year of high school when I became Muslim.
I read online that strings were haram and music was Haram but I was in denial and unable to give up my passions. I continued in Orchestra. But religion and politics and high school drama don't mix! One of my close friends turned half the orchestra against me and Amanda. It was drudgery going to class. I still loved to play but my heart was slowly loosing interest. I had to wear these silly dresses at concerts and i had to hijabify them and everyone though I looked like a freak being the only arm and head covered girl on the stage and again I was standing next to a tall bright loud instrument... very visible. Soon as my Senioritis got worse I started ditching even Orchestra and got my first C in years in that class. I didn't go to the end of the year concert. Tony got the glory that night. Tony didn't even sign my year book though because of the orchestra Drama. Oh well. I had bigger plans in the mix, i was meeting my future Husband then.
After Highschool there was just the radio to consolidate my not being able to play anymore since I couldn't afford a stringed instrument. I did buy a wooden bamboo flute from the Renaissance fair which i tried to master over the years but my heart was glued to strings.
In Lebanon they only had a not well received radio station so I didn't even manage to get that much music for a while. I had my tapes and CDs but it wasn't the same. i was out of the "up to date" music loop. Most of me didn't care. The other part of me was hurting. i was a talented Musician and my talents were going to waste. i couldn't do vocal exercises anymore without my piano and though I still sing It's not with the awesome 4 octave range I used to have. I think somewhere an octave got misplaced.... Friends when they learned I play music would encourage me to learn more about Nasheeds. I heard a few beautiful ones with their awesome harmonies. Don't get me wrong they ARE awesome. Especially all the different kind of drum beats. But some groups frown on Islamic Women Singers so I wasn't going to start into that hornets nest. And women drummers in Lebanon were few and far between. i heard from the group I was learning from that synthesized sounds were Halal like those on an electric keyboard. So I stuck to this and once in a while when i visited my grandparents house I'd madly play the keyboard. Also I sometimes go over my old cello and bass music practicing the fingerings and bowings in the air.
My husband's co-worker Who is not a practicing Muslim and though Syrian doesn't know a thing about real ISLAM, brought over his guitar one day and started playing in the garden then he came into eat dinner bringing in his guitar. For the first time in 6 years there was a stringed instrument in my house. It was torture. He played it weekly on visits to my husband and they both know I gave up strings for the sake of Allah but one day in the garden I picked it up and strummed it a bit. it felt deliciously good. No bow which sucks but whatever a string is a string.
But he's gone back to Syria now saving me from further temptation alhamdulillah. Although I do have lots of my favorite composer Beethoven's CDs I rarely listen to them anymore. I rarely listen to anything anymore. But when someone downloads something and sends it to me I check it out and most likely love it but I'm not current in the latest music at all and that's ok with me. Sometimes when I catch a new video like stupid Britney Spears' Womanizer's song on YouTube I am glad to be away from such Haram. Other times I'm pulled to using Music to help me like with doing chores. I have to have a custom dance and rock Cd on to get energized to clean with my ADD.
Sometimes when I pray I get the feeling to just purge it all. Just delete it all from the PC and break my Cds in half and toss them in the bin... I feel so strongly to do this and it feels right. Then a song will turn on and I loose my resolve and start Jamming and jumping off the couches having fun expressing my inner self. I've asked different people about hadiths or Qur'an related to music but so far I haven't come across any that are really clear that LISTENING to string instruments is Haram (not makrouh) not just PLAYING THEM. I don't play them anymore, but I'm so weak in listening still. And it hurts me SO SO SO SO SO badly when I see Muslims playing Stringed Instruments like Sami Yusuf's second CD. I could probably get a decent paying job playing bass or cello part time to put some money in my pocket but I fear Allah. So I don't and I don't think they should be doing it either but I'm not sure about listening.
Anyone got links to awesome Nasheeds I can switch to that are Halal. Or texts concerning Music? Or links to peeps with texts. I'm all ears.

These are my current 2009 goals to accomplish I'll edit them as I think of more.
Anyone that wants to do this as a tag is welcome to copy/paste.

Home:

• Maintain Cleaning Schedule
• Give away old clothes
• Iron once a week to prevent laundry pileup
• Save money$ to go visit family in Lebanon/USA

Personal:

• Wean brestfeeding son
• Stop biting nails
• Learn proper adab (manners) of a good wife
• Get new abaya
• Help Husband open business
• Lose weight to under 70 kilos (Started at 108, now at 78)

Homeschooling:

• Plan Kindergarten's Curriculum
• -Monthly Units
• --Time
• --Zoo/Farm Animals
• --Addition+Subtraction
• --Arabic Alphabets and Vocabulary
• --Farm Life/Gardening
• --Geography
• --Learn to Read
• -Lapbooks
• -Field Trips and Gatherings
• Read to each child half an hour daily
• Keep my cool
• Maintain a rough schedule
• Firm Bedtime routine

• Post 1 poem per month
• Minimum 10 posts per month
• 3 post per month helping someone/an organization
• 1 post featuring a fellow blogger
• Make new template -3 column
• Make new personalized header reflecting myself

• Fast Ramadan when it comes this year
• Make up past Ramadan days and Pay Expiation
• Learn Arabic Better
• Learn Hanafi Fiqh
• Memorize 1 Surah of Qur'an each month
• -Complete 40 days in a row not missing even 1:
• --6 Daily Prayers (including Witr)
• --No excusable anger
• ----Add a Sunnah Prayer every 40 days after finish the first 40

• Finish writing Rough Draft of current Novel
• Edit (friends) R.D.
• Send Novel to Publisher
• Enter Islamic Poetry Contest

• Have BBQ in Desert
• Have camping adventure
• See Al-Ain Airshow 2009
• Visit friends weekly

Some difficult news: My mother's sister's husband John is in Hospice (terminally ill patients) Program now with:
COPD, or chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, is a progressive disease that makes it hard to breathe. "Progressive" means the disease gets worse over time.
COPD can cause coughing that produces large amounts of mucus (a slimy substance), wheezing, shortness of breath, chest tightness, and other symptoms. Also he has spinal problems which are crushing on his lungs making it harder to breathe.
My Aunt is staying by his side and trying her best to keep up his spirits but he needs large amounts of morphine to combat the pain.
Please keep these good people in your prayers and make du'a that God eases his pain.
John is a quiet man who loves crosswords and fill-in puzzles and enjoys his simple pleasures in life like a good book or magazine. He is sweet and plain spoken and it was nice to have him at family gatherings.
I will e-mail my family all your replies so even if you don't normally reply please take the time to do so. I'm sure it would cheer him up to know people around the world are thinking of him. If you can put in your reply where you are writing from I'm sure he'd love that.
May God make it easy for all of us Amin.

Here are some great links of crafts you can make for your family (even if you dont have kids) for Ramadan! I'm planning out a full crafting schedule because my daughter understands more about it this year since she'll be 4 soon. And my son will have his first memorable experience as he was too young to remember last years Ramadan.

http://www.knowledgehound.com/topics/ramadan.htm has a lot of links within of good sites.
http://familycrafts.about.com/cs/coloringnewyear/a/blramadandeco.htm easy
http://www.theholidayspot.com/ramadan/crafts.htm cool

Sadly the only other links i found lead back to these three. But use your imagination and then blog about it!!! Hehehee. Like I will make Ramadan paper chains in sparly colors for the kids to relize 30 days of ramadan and i'll make the masjid one and also we can make paper lanterns.
Also on shiny wrapping paper i made a ramadan banner and I get the christmas ribbon and tie lots of swirly ribbons all over the ceilings. I have a decor box Kabba that will be the centerpiece. I'm thinking to get lights this year so at night they can still feel the effects and have fun. I will try to post pictures and projects we make as we do them inshallah.
On LBC Lebanese Broadcast Company in ramadan they have cute songs i will try to see if youtube has them bcause they are great for kids.

Ya Allah.
YA ALLAH...
YA ALLAH YA RABBI ANA!

Something is definity wrong with my son, subhanAllah. EVERY DAY,
E V E R Y D A Y !!!!
He is getting hurt somehow. Since he's been born he's fallen off the bed 8 tims and bonked his little head leaving a lemon sized bruise each time. Making me feel like a crappy mother for not being able to fully protect him each time. He's into climbing and trying to stand by himself and learning to take a few walking steps by himself. We are going into debt because we HAD to just buy carpets for the floors (luckily we don't have many rooms and they aren't big) so if he does fall he wont hit his head so hard. That's not enough though! Still he's getting hurt!

Yesterday he climbed up onto his short high chair and then didn't know how to get back out and fell backwards from it and bonked his head. Luckily he wasn't really fazed by it and tried to climb it again but I put the tray on it to prevent him access. The day before that while playing with his sister she knocked him over onto his back but he hit his cheek on a toy pushbutton phone and it left a nasty bruise.

Today was the worst though! We got back from getting a carpet for the living room (cause soon he'll be climbing the couches) and we eat but the kids are trying my patience and I'm snappy and my husband is soo tired and getting cranky then my son falls under the table. After eating we are getting ready for bed and I'm putting a new sheet on the bed and smoothing it out and tucking the ends in when my son falls over and hits his head on the sharp corner of a drawer. I rush and grab him up expecting to see another bruise but what I find is a mother's worst nightmare there is a hole in my baby's head. Alhamdulliah it's not big about 2mm deep and 2mm across but a hole nevertheless. ABout two inches above his right eye. Allah saved his eye! Alhamdulliah. Alhamdulliah. I freaked out and started crying my heart out and trying to ask my husband if it looks bad enough to take to the doctor. Masha'Allah when i freak my husband sucks it up and is the strong one. He takes the baby from me, which upsets me more cause I just wanna squeeze him and hold him and assure myself that he's ok but with us both crying it's not going to help him. My husband takes him to the other room to distract him while I cry so hard and wonder why this is happeneing to him. Has someone cursed my baby with the evil eye? Or has Allah willed for my son to be accident-prone? What is going on?!?!?!
Finally my husband orders me to calm down for the baby's sake and I try to but I keep imagining it hit his eye instead of his head. Ya Allah I'll give him my own eye, just please protect my son. Eventually I blow my nose and make the rest of the bed to calm myself before taking my son back. I hug him tight and kiss him over and over so happy he's alright. I curl up with him on the fresh sheets and feed him his milk as I sooth his little delicate fuzzy head. I beg my husband to read Qur'an for him and he does so as my little sweet blueberry cupcake falls asleep. I lay him on his bed area and then hug my husband cause I'm still shaken up. After a few hugs I'm feeling better but still sooo confused. WHy is this happeneing everyday?
E V E R Y D A Y !!!!!!!!!!!
My son's skull is a puzzle of bruises in different stages it's so sad. People are always commenting too when we go out.
"Ohhh what happened?"
"Poor Baby!"
"Haraaaam!"
I feel like the worst mother in the world. I'd keep his hat on if it wasn't so hot and if he didn't take it off every two seconds. My brother-in-law after seeing and hearing about his many bruises said we should sacrifice a sheep for his sake to Allah. So Allah will bless him and maybe if there is an evil eye it will be removed. I've never heard of doing this because I'm still new about such things. If there is a sacrifice to be made though, for sure I want to do it. As I layed his little head down and watched his soft chest rise and fall and smelled his milky breath, I felt my squwimishness fade and a hardness fill my heart. I will slaughter a sheep or goat or even a camel, by hand, if that's what it takes to protect my son from this daily harm. I will research how to do a halal sacrifice and the sunnah of slaughtering an animal and I WILL DO IT.


Has anyone heard of being harmed like this before? Do you know how it was stopped? SHould I slaughter something? ANyone know any hadith, qur'an, rulings about this? Let me know please as soon as you can. I'm so tired and my heart is so full of pain looking at his bruised head and seeing his little blue eyes filled with tears.
If you don't know anything then at least keep him in your thoughts and prayers and make du'a for him please.

I'm going to post a small part of a post I put on my private blog because I feel it needs to reach wider and everyone neeeds to take the time to appreciate their children more.

*I yelled alot at my daughter today and finally she's getting sleepy after three hours of trying to get her to sleep*.........My mind is working frantically though as she starts to wear down. WHere is this coming from all this hate and anxiety towards my own daughter whom I love so much and would go to great lengths for? Obviously Shaytan is messing with my head. So I begin reading Qur'an for us both and it calms her down to sleep and me down to clearheaded. Finally she drifts off and I march here to the PC to do some major research. I've had it. I'm sick of yelling at my kids and feeling like al-Qaida surrounded by "Kuffar". (ie hot blooded). ..... I feel like crap and they feel like crap and this is all not healthy at all and it has to change NOW not tomorrow. So I'm googling things now and I will post it to both sites the links though not the full story of course. I already hear your critisim beleive me I know what a poophead I'm being. I'm the one who has to look into their hurt blue eyes and trembling lips and so I AM trying to find a way to stop this. I know it all stems from the chaos of life right now but it's such a visious cycle. Kids up all night sleep in the day eat irregularly etc,.. it all ties together but I don't know how to get it to re-adjust itself..... ugh.... ok let me get these links going:
http://www.babycenter.com/400_how-can-i-stop-yelling-at-my-toddler_500774_1000.bc
How to Stop Yelling
http://daddybrain.wordpress.com/2008/05/20/stop-yelling-daddy/
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080111132054AALB4qR

Oh my god. I really am literlly crying now because I just read this aweful poem about child abuse and it's so terrible and yet so real and true that it kils me all over again that I even shout once at my kids. Ya ALLAH, please have mercy on me and stop me from doing this horrid thing to my kids.... PLEASE!
http://www.babycenter.com/400_how-can-i-stop-yelling-at-my-toddler_500774_1000.bc?pageSize=10&startIndex=10&questionId=500774&ownerId=1000
(about fifth or six comment down on this last link I found this)
"I too yell at my littl girl. Sometimes it's so fustrating and when shes yelling and crying and whining all morning, I feel like I'm not good enough and I'm not a good mom. Then I just break and yell back at her really loudly, and sometimes I start crying after because i feel so bad.. When I yell at her she gets scared and jumps and starts really crying, I just want to die after it happens but it's already done. I want to be more calm and patient, she is only 13 months but I feel so stressed out sometimes. Today was one of the few days that i really yelled back at her and I put her down for a nap, and went and relaxed for a while. When she got up I was trying to be really patient and calm and nice to her cause I felt so terribly auful. I then came to work today and a friend of mine sent me an e-mail called Blue Ribbon Against Child Abuse and I read it, it goes like this:
my name is sarah I am but three my eyes are swollen I cannot see I must be stupid i must be bad What else could have made My daddy so mad? I wish I were better, I wish I weren't ugly, Then maybe my mommy Would still want to hug me. I can't speak at all, I can't do a wrong Or else I'm locked up All the day long. When I awake I'm all alone The house is dark, My folks aren't home. When my mommy does come, I'll try to be nice, So maybe I'll get just one whipping tonight. Don't make a sound, I just heard a car My daddy is back From charlies Bar. I hear him curse My name he calls I press myself Against the wall. I try and hide, From his evil eyes I'm so afraid now I'm starting to cry. He finds me weeping He shoults ugly words, he says it's my fault That he suffers at work. He slaps me and hits me, And yells at me more I finally get free and run for the door. He's already locked it, And I start to bawl He takes me and throws me Against the hard wall I fall to the floor With my bones nearly broken, And my daddy continues With more bad words spoken. "I'm sorry!", I scream But it's now much too late His face has been twisted Into unimaginable hate. The hurt and the pain Again and again Oh please God, have Mercy! Oh please let it end! And he finally stops and heads for the door, While I lay there motionless sprawled on the floor. My name is Sarah And I am but three Tonight my daddy Murdered me.
I know it's too sad and very extreme, but we must try to stay calm with our children, because they sometimes know no better. After reading this poem, I know I will make an effort to try and understand my chilkd more, and get angry at her less. posted 3/29/2006 by Guilty mother canada "

Oh MY, are you crying too? Can you just feel the girl's wanting to love her parents? Don't you look at your own children and think how often they just want our love too? Why am I doing this too my kids? Because I'm stressed about the hosue and marraige and life and everything? It's not even worth one tear from my baby. Maybe this poem affects me more because I have been in abusive foster homes and all I wanted was parents to love me and they wouldn't. We have so much love to give our children and we waste time doing other things. Ya ALlah.
Here's the last link: http://actagainstviolence.apa.org/specialtopics/yelling.html

I finally figured out that I'm a Red juicy Apple in a pile of Oranges. I figured this out one boring night at home, in front of my PC, on August 4th, 2001, when I was 17. I was sick of the chatroom where everything is so false and meaningless. I was sick of my neopets game where you play games to trade for coins to buy things for your pet online. I was so sick of everything and wanted something new and exciting to look up. Suddenly subhanAllah I was flooded with memories of many things that all added up to one thing. **My 10th grade teacher writing the five pillars on the chalkboard because today we would learn about Islam and I doodle the actual pillars into my notebook where for once I listened to her lecture instead of ignoring her daily lesson of the religion of the world.** **How much I was moved by the movie the 13th Warrior.** **My favorite history to learn in school was the Ancient Egyptians.** **The beauty of the movies the Mummy and the scene where she wears local dress of niqab** **My possible future of going to the U of A and studying sociology in Saudi Arabia** **My 10th grade teacher speaking of the charity and helping the needy that Islam follows and there is no one between you and God.** **My accepting that there is a God just a month earlier after being hard core Atheist for 4 years.** And soo much more.


It all pointed towards looking up ISLAM. So I typed it into a search engine and it came up with a few websites (this was 2001 people before the rush of net knowledge about Islam post Sept. 11th) and browsed them and was intrigued with my findings. Lots of praying, lots of charitable acts, "some guy named Muhammad who led them all and revealed their holy book", fasting for a month, once in a lifetime to hajj in Mecca. I felt I belonged with this. I googled Muhammad and found a horrid website calling our Prophet the worst of names and i don't know why I just blindly believed the website but at the time I did but I still loved the principles of Islam. (I didn't know it is Kuffur to believe these things about Prophet Muhammad[saw]). So I read that you have to say "Shahada at a masjid witnessed by two people" I read the shahada to myself to try it out on my tongue and it felt nice. Eager and excited that this is where I'd find my true place finally I rushed to the living room where my father sat reading a book in peace. (Sorry Daddy by the way for shocking you that night.) Normally if he wants to respond to anything I say while he's reading he just looks up from the page and answers then goes back to the book. "Hey Dad, can I have the keys? I need to drive to the mosque at dawn tomorrow and become a Muslim." He looked up slowly absorbing he words I just uttered. He carefully and calmly set down his book on the arm of the chair and folded him hands. "Have you thought about this? Have you learned about this?"

he asked. "Oh yeah I've learned about it in school and just now I was researching (for a whole 15 minutes) it online. I like it and I belong with them and I'm going to be Muslim so I have to have the keys please." I assured him breezily wondering why he wasn't hauling out the keys yet. "This is a big step and it's your life and all but maybe you need to go think about things again before you rush into something you might regret later." He advised and I frowned knowing i didn't need to re think about it. Didn't he understand I just had an Epiphany! But my father knew me way too well that when something is on my mind I just do it.. following my heart at the drop of a hat. So I agreed to think it over for a while. I went back to the PC and knew there was nothing to think over so I googled the location of the masjid and got the address and phone number. I got my father's map and tried to locate the masjid on the map. It was very hard. Then I sat and read a few more sites about Islam and thy said the same five pillars as the first. Finally about an hour had passed and I figured my father would think that was enough time for thinking so I went back. "Yup, I still want to be Muslim!" I said. He sighed and reached into his pockets. "It's your life and you can do what you like but just be careful and know if anything bad happens we will be here for you." He said. I grinned and took the keys and thanked him and then went to my room to check the map again. I set my alarm for dawn. And went to bed.

August 5th, 2001 I woke early to my alarm and woke up excited and happy. I got dressed in a long black skirt and a long sleeve black shirt with a modest neckline since i read they dress modestly. ( I do love black before i was muslim) Then I took my map and keys and climbed ungracefully into my Dad's Chevy truck. I saw the dawn sky brightening and the birds all chirping gaily and there was a crisp feeling in the air. The world knew my excitement. I had see this "odd" building many times in Tucson. It's completely white with a dome on top and I always told my parents I wanted a house like that they said it's a place where some people pray and I thought that was a beautiful place to pray (another clue I was always attracted to Islam). So I went there and it was located on 1st Street or 1st Place on of the two. SO I step out and look around the gated area. There was no one there much less anyone praying. I check the sky and the sun is just rising. I look again at the street sign and my written address. Oopsy the masjid address says 1st street (or place I've now confused the two over the years). I checked my map again and got lost trying to find the real masjid/mosque. Finally I spotted it near the campus of the University of Arizona. So I pull up in front of the masjid and hop out of the truck and lock the doors. I look at it and it is soo beautiful with a shiny copper colored dome. I pass a few men who look at me oddly and I give a tentative smile but keep going up the few stairs. I enter and am totally confused. There are racks lining the room and a large sign saying Please take off your shoes. I guess that is for the carpet area. It's a lovely plain blue carpet stretching without break all the way to the other side of a large empty room. Where are the seats? I wondered. There were about five random men praying by themselves in various positions which i had never seen before. Also there was a group of about 7 men sitting in a circle reciting something. I didn't want to intrude upon their religious things but I DID want to join them somehow. So I carefully kept my shod feet off the carpet and leaned in and looked around the doorway to the seated men.

"Uh, excuse me, how--" I began and was cut off by a man jumping up and shouting,

"No no, go around, you can't be in here. Go the other way." I was all taken aback and shocked and was totally like WTF in my head. At my totally perplexed look and obvious a lack of hijab he calmed down and asked a bit more quietly and a lot less rudely, "What do you want?"

"I want to join you. You know be a muslim." I was really afraid i was sounding quite stupid now. He paused then sighed. "Go sit on that chair and we'll be with you in a while." So I went and sat on a folding chair and watched as guys slowly filtered out and put their shoes on. The whole shoe thing was really weird for me. While I waited 20MINUTES! I checked out the dome and the beauty of it and had lots of time to worry about if I had done something wrong to offend that guy. Finally he and another man came over to me along with an elderly man with a dyed red beard (henna I later figured out). They explained this was a travelling sheik who would witness my shahada. "So did you think about this?" He asked. What was he my father? I sighed "Yes of course" "Do you know about Islam?" He asked. "Yes I researched it on the Internet." I was nervous they weren't going to let me be Muslim if I didn't know anything so I was using my bluffing voice. "OK well you need to say Ashadu-illaha-illallah-Mohammadur-rasulu-llah." He wrote it out and I stumbled over the words but got them out finally enough for them to except it. They smiled now. I sat there like ok now what. Then a african brother came over and was like do you have time for me to run to my house and get a few things for you and I was like sure. (I had all day because I didn't know how long it was going to take to become muslim) SO the man ran off. I waited and watched as the other men too soon began to leave leaving only two. Finally after about 7 minutes the man came back and gave me a book on how to pray and the times of prayer and tried to explain to me how timing goes. He gave me a copy of meaning of Qur'an in English with arabic too (still my favorite version of the qur'an I have and currently opened under my monitor). He also gave me two head coverings one creamy and the other white & a beautiful green colored prayer mat with a masjid on it. I thanked him for it then asked, "So how much is all of this?"

"it's free." he said confused and still smiling. I innwardly rolled my eyes. I wasn't born yesterday. The book alone was very expensive. It's thick well binded and beautifully decorated green with gold decor so therefore it must be worth something. "No, seriously I HAVE money." I explained.

"No, no it's a gift. Really it's free." He said again his smile loosing strength. I looked at him dubiously NOTHING WAS FREE -especially all this. At my expression and stony silence he tried to explain better "It's a gift for you becoming Muslim! We want to help you and make it easy for you. Just put this scarf on and pray like it says in the book." I smiled then warmly.

"Well thank you very much." I then stood and went back to my car feeling so free and light and everything looked so beautiful. I sat in the drivers seat and pulled out the cream colored hijab and folded it to a triangle and tried to wrap it around my head and then tried to figure out how to tie it to cover my neck. I tried a granny knot but my neck still showed. Frustrated of trying for a good five minutes i went back inside the masjid holding it. The brother looked at me confused.

"Umm, how do you put this thing on?" I asked and held it up. He laughed and was like "I have no clue but I think you use some pins or clips. Maybe if you come back at the next prayer then there will be women here to ask them." I said ok and then went to my truck and then tried again. I came back at the next prayer but no women were there still. S0 much for all Muslims praying 5 times a day at a masjid I thought to myself. Though I did see men praying formally for the first time and I admit it scared me a little I actually thought for a moment DID I JOIN A CULT? Then it passed from my mind and I reviewed the pillars in my head. Then I drove home feeling happy and heady and in love with this life Allah had given me and a new way to look at the world.
_____________________________________________________
It took time to adjust to my new life and for others to adjust to me adjusting mine and that will be another post later :)

My Canadian friend gave me a whole MP3 (2CDS) set of Shiek Hamza Yusuf's Purification of the Heart and I began listening to it intently and masha'Allah it has opened doorways in my mind and have seen a whole new way to look at things. I'm not taking him as my own personal Sheik but his CD definitely moved my mind. Then the next day I get a message from the local New Muslims Help Place "Dar Al-Zayed Al-Islam" from my friends saying that Shiek Hamza Yusuf will be in Abu-Dhabi and will be holding a lecture. "We have to go see this together!" I told my friend and eventually we made plans for it.
A Brother she knew drove us there in his minivan, may Allah reward him. I have two kids and she has three so a total of 5 kids, two ladies, and two Brothers were in this van. Men in the front, Ladies in the middle with the babies, other kids in the back. All the kids were acting crazy and were fussy and being soo difficult (including mine, I'm taking full blame here) and we had to stop and pray twice along the way. At the Maghrib prayer my daughter needed to use the restroom and I couldn't ask these brothers (since they had already left to pray) to take her to the potty and the woman's area was a far walking distance away from the masjid so I took her to a secluded place far from where anyone would sit or walk and tried my best to have her go in the nature way but small kid, small bladder equals problems and most got on her pants and so I had to change her and wash her down in public, Ugh talk about everything going wrong at once. So finally we settle in for the rest of the ride to AbuDhabi and still the kids are all being difficult but we get to the National Theater where the lecture was being held. Women of course go upstairs to the balcony seating.
I HAD called ahead and asked if children were allowed to this function and was assured it was ok. Me and my friend and our two strollers and five kids all entered the darkened theater and my mommy radar went off that this was not a kid friendly environment and we were in for some real trouble. We took seats as fast as possible and tried to get our kids munching on snacks to keep them quiet but this only lasted a few minutes. The babies became fussy and the three older kids (3,4,6 yrs old) started hopping seats up and down the theater and of course these Emeratian Ladies who I guess were the Quiet Police all started hushing our kids and causing more disturbances than our kids were. Finally I gave up trying to take notes on the lecture. Which was about Islamic Influence on the World. LIke how Arabs were the first to make stained glass and then the rest of the world started doing it and esp the churches and now some muslims think we can't have stained glass windows in masjids when in reality we were the inventors. Subhan'Allah. We took the kids outside of the theater doors where there was room for them to run around on the carpets and not disturb anyone. Then we took turns watching the kids and then trading off to listen to the lecture. The Emeratian Ladies were kind enough to bring us tea or juices so I thank them for that. I got to see the ending of the lecture which was some of the best part where he talked about more open dialog between religions. Then a group of Shiekhs and one Shiekha came up to greet him and give him some kind of plaque (the ceremony was in Arabic of course) and he shook hands with them including the Shiekha and she was whispering many things to Hamza Yusuf while pictures were taken of them lined up and the plaque. Finally they finished and left and a mob swarmed him. I rushed to get our strollers ready to face the mob downstairs and called for my friend to grab the kids and lets go meet him. My husband demanded I not leave until I get a picture of Hamza Yusuf holding our son. I don't know why he wanted this but I was determined to win my husband's praise. So we went downstairs and it took a long time for us to get through the throng. At first we didn't think it was going to happen to talk to him because my camera died and so did her camera phone. Then one of the sisters offered to take the picture and send us it in e-mail.

Hamza Yusuf's back of his head behind my son.