| By samalia,
on 27-03-2007 19:52
|
Views : 978  |
Favoured : 54 |
Published in : , Stories |
Monday night. 11:34pm. The inhabitants of a house are panicking. The heavens are crying. The ground is shaking. Loud crashing noises. Sirens going off. Lights in the sky make it look like its 2:30pm in the afternoon. No men in the house, just women and children.
Where is this? Inside my parents home in a usually quiet neighborhood (think: anywhere, USA) during an unusually violent, late summer storm.
Inside my parents home, in this usually quiet neighborhood, during this unusually violent storm outside, we are safe, Allhamdullilah, and dry and our biggest worry is whether or not we can find matches and candles in time before the lights go out.
Our biggest worry is whether or not we have candles and matches? "Hanna, I swear the candles are always in the drawer next to the refrigerator with the rest of the birthday stu-- (CRASH!)"
More lightning, more thunder. QUICK!, grab the children from the rooms at the back of the house that’s surrounded by trees and move everyone into the upstairs hallway, close the doors to drown out the sounds and lights. "Its ok beta, Farah Khalas got you!" We suddenly plunge into deep darkness: the lights have gone off. ... ..... Then someone lights a match; candles, eventually, were found.
As I stand holding my trembling nephew close to me, his heart beating a mile a minute covering up my own heartbeat, listening to the sounds outside mixed with Ma softly repeating Ayat-ul-Qursi, I cannot help but think how blessed we are that the sounds we are hearing are thunder instead of artillery fire violating our community.
In yet another part of the world, the same scenario is unfolding. The heavens are crying. The ground is shaking. Loud crashing noises. Sirens going off. Smoke from fires make 2:30pm in the afternoon appear as if its the middle of the night. No men in the house, just women and children. A mother sits in a hallway, reciting Quran, trying to comfort her children. That same mother is telling her children that the noises outside are not missiles and gunfire, but rather just a summer storm, with rumbling thunder and flashes of lightning, that soon, inshAllah, will all blow over.
What would you do if every second of every minute of every hour in every passing day you had to be saying goodbye to your loved ones, not knowing when you may never have the chance to see them again? Praying, not to ask for fancy cars or admission in top notch colleges, but that you live long enough to tell them how much you love them and how big of an impact they have had on your life, however long or short.
Our storm lasted 15 minutes. Everyones asleep now. But, their storm is still going strong. Boycotting Starbucks and Timberland isn’t going to bankrupt Israel, and its certainly not going to influence foreign policy. Im sad to say it, but prayer isn’t going to help either. God created man to implement his own ideas, to do on his own what his free-will dictates. We are not God, but can we play God and help give life to those who otherwise don’t stand a chance? The innocent in Lebanon are praying. We can hear their prayers, their cries for help. We are the answer to their prayers. We have a voice. We have minds. We have consciences. It is up to us. Do we ignore them, do we pray they find peace through Allahs mercy alone, which translates into death and the Hereafter, or do we as Muslims, put aside our differences and unite as one global army, or family if you will, and let it be known that violence towards our Muslim brothers and sisters will not be tolerated?
Now is the time for our generation to step up and show our worth for the sake of the next generation, who is already here, in the dark, in a hallway looking up at us for comfort.
Last update : 27-03-2007 19:52
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