The Way of Tears

I was born Muslim.

I grew up Muslim, and until a few years ago, I didn’t know what Islam was for me, what Islam meant to me.

My senior year in college, I took a Religious Studies class as a gen ed. I took it the same way I would take a French class for easy credit.

I didn’t know how much this class would open my eyes and my heart. When I first walked into the class, I didn’t know what to expect. The class was very white; I mean I went to Penn State, what did I expect. I remember wondering if my white professor was Muslim because he spoke about the religion with so much love and passion. He wasn’t, he was Christian but had so much love and respect for the faith. I’m ashamed to say this, but I wondered why certain people were in the class. Finally, a student raised his hand and said, “Umm I’m not Muslim, I’m actually not anything, but I follow Islam as a way of life.” At first, I didn’t know what this man who looked like he had just got out of his emo phase and was ready to be the next metal rock superstar, meant but then he explained. He said something about finding peace in the principles of Islam, and it all made sense. I mean, I almost ended the class with a B+, and honestly, I didn’t know if my grade would be brought up on judgment day lol. But I did an extra credit assignment and got an A- just in case.

I studied Islam and fell in love with the learning the religion. I thought I knew the what, but not really why or even how.

Many people don’t know this, but I had an identity crisis in college. I am referring to it as an identity crisis, for lack of a better word. But there was a moment when I didn’t know who I was and didn’t know who I was becoming. I found refuge in prayer and, studying my religion, getting to know Allah. One night I Facetimed a friend of mine in tears, “I don’t know who I am, I don’t know why I’m struggling with my five daily prayers. What if God is mad at me”. She looked at me, smiled and said, “Leyla, the fact that you feel this way means you are on the right path. You know you are straying away, but your tears say it all. You still care, and He most definitely still cares about you. You are not lost.”

Now that I think of it, I have never told her how much I’m grateful for her and what she said to me that night.

I knew I was Muslim, but I didn't know how much Allah loved me.

I thought I was alone but realized that I was never alone, not even for a second. I had feelings I couldn’t put in words, and even when I did, I never wanted to say it out loud. But Allah knew. Whether it was from random pages on Instagram quotes or nights I opened a page in the Quran in my room, I was reminded of how much Allah loved me.

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I had trouble forgiving people, I mean I always said “It’s okay, we’re good” but never really meant it. I couldn’t understand why people knew that I didn’t like something but kept doing it and kept apologizing.

But who was I not to forgive? Who am I to be above forgiveness?

One of Allah’s beautiful 99 names is Ar-Rahmaan, meaning the Most Merciful.

In praising Allah, I ask for his forgiveness, for the things I’ve done, for the times I saw the road and chose a different path. For the days I doubted the undoubtable, for the days I entertained hopelessness when my God is clearly Al-Jabbar, the Compeller and the Restorer. For the days, I felt broken when He saw me as whole.

This might sound crazy, but I only recognize myself when I was all covered and sitting on my prayer mat. That was when I was the realest version of myself, when I was vulnerable Leyla.

I don’t ask for help, or support from anybody. I have always taken pride in doing everything for myself. Not that I think asking for help is weak, I just didn’t think it was who I was as a person. I am someone who screams in silent and experiences sadness with a smile on my face.

Allahumma-nsurni wa-anta khayrun-nasirin

O Allah, give me Your support, and You are the best of supporters.

If you haven’t noticed already, I write on this blog as the most authentic version of myself; I share my inner thoughts with you. So this is me telling you there is no shame in struggling with your religion and prayers. Allah sees your efforts, just never stop trying. Always find your way back; Allah will be waiting for you with open arms. Your journey is your journey, don’t let anyone judge you. Do I think I could have done better sooner? Yes, I do. But if this was God’s timing, then I should trust it. If I had to be so lost, had to be the most broken version of myself and cry out Gods name in my apartment then so be it. I can’t swear I won’t be lost again but I know I’ll find my way back because I will never question Allah’s mercy again. I will never question Allah’s love for me again.