Allah's Plan Anchors My Father's Wisdom

 Life is often slow to reveal its truths, but when those truths emerge, they can come fast. I learned this profound lesson after the passing of my father. Throughout my life, he instilled in me the principle that nothing in life is free. He warned me against falling for schemes and always encouraged a direct approach in dealing with challenges. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize how true his words were. There's always a hidden fine print in life, whether you discover it upfront or it finds its way back to you later.

From childhood through my teenage years and into my marriage, I’ve been supported in ways beyond what I could have imagined, but not without enduring significant lessons along the way. My father, the backbone of my upbringing, imparted a wealth of knowledge and foresight, much of which I’ve come to rely on in facing life's greatest challenges. Even his humorous remarks, which once seemed trivial, now serve as reminders of his wisdom and guidance. His influence is still deeply embedded in my life, shaping how I navigate the journey ahead.

Built by Support, Gratitude, and Grit

Sometimes, life places us in long-term situations, but it can also provides us with favorable circumstances to endure them. If it is acknowledged properly, this form of sustenance enables us to observe our matters to reflect and approach these challenges with patience. People may perceive such an approach as manipulative or self-serving, but in reality, it is often the most respectful way to handle matters involving important people in our lives.

My particular situation isn’t one that can offer instant clarity or resolution. So it forced me to surrender my concerns to Allah for quite some time, and in hindsight, I now see that this act of surrender has become a journey of a lifetime—one that required a deeper level of introspection and perseverance. In these moments of learning patience, I learned that it’s not about finding the answers you want but discovering the ones you need. If my challenges were simple and easy to resolve, I wouldn’t have sought a higher form of help. But by leaving it to Allah, I’ve come to understand that the answers will only reveal themselves after I’ve done the necessary work and walked the path meant for me alone.

Since I was a teenager, my father had a firm belief that I shouldn’t work. His stance was consistent, deeply rooted in his sense of responsibility for our household. At the time, it was hard for me to understand, especially as I was coming of age and yearning for independence. But looking back, I now see the wisdom behind his decision, even if it wasn’t easy for me to accept as a young adult. His firmness taught me resilience and responsibility in ways I didn’t fully appreciate then, but this approach highlights his form of support, whether its perceived as strict or not, his heart-led ambitions were respected.

I’ve always taken pride in my role as a daughter, a sister, and a housewife. Despite what might seem like a financial "free ride," I didn’t demand or need immediate financial means, nor was I swayed by how others lived their lives. My husband provided for us generously, but I respected the limits of that advantage, especially because he was charitable by nature and doesn't accept no for an answer. Through this, I learned a valuable lesson: while money plays a central role in life, it is fleeting, and true sustenance comes from maintaining standards of living that extend beyond financial gain.

When I entered my marriage, I was still attending community college, but without a clear sense of direction. I had the vague idea of becoming a nurse, but I lacked the ambition and guidance to pursue it wholeheartedly. I just wasn't focused enough. Living in Los Angeles, I became determined to contribute financially to our household. Eventually, I landed a job as a talent agent, which was quite an exciting experience. The office was on a studio lot, coincidentally the same one where a show I was watching was being filmed, and I felt grateful for the opportunity.

It was my first job, and I was excited to earn my own money, though I ended up spending it on clothes and outings with friends rather than contributing meaningfully. I was a bit of a rebel in the office, too. I didn’t like the system, as they were scouting talents randomly, and people came in with high hopes of making it. I felt uneasy helping them when I knew the odds were stacked against them. Our work ethics clashed, so I worked there for about six months and they called it quits on me. 

Moving on to motherhood, it shifted my entire perspective. My father had always emphasized the importance of being there for my children, while my husband encouraged me to return to school. Having a baby and being a new mom are two distinct experiences.  So I felt a strong disconnection from formal education at the time, which left me to pave my own path, as I always had—independent in action yet supported by the hearts around me.

By now, I've painted a clear picture of my financial circumstances, to reveal the wealth i've gathered in my heart. I owe much of this to both of my parents, especially my father, who remains the most cherished man in my life. Losing him left a deep wound, as he genuinely cared for my well-being and left a bond my kids treasure, remembering him as if they had just seen him yesterday. I take pride in how I encouraged him to step outside his comfort zone while preserving our unique connection. Though we had our disagreements, his demeanor and actions were always those of a true friend and companion.

In retrospect, I now see my father’s early retirement as a gift, though it wasn’t always easy to appreciate at the time. As a child, having retired parents and a grandmother caring for me, while they themselves needed support, felt more challenging than fortunate. I was too young to fully grasp the dynamics at play. However, looking back, I realize how fortunate those early years were in shaping who I am today. He had a strong presence and was able to convey wisdom without speaking. His resolute nature was precise, and he insisted on being truthful and straightforward. His intolerance for anything unclear pushed me toward valuing honesty and clarity, not just in communication, but as I was growing and learning in life.

The Early Shaping of Faith

From young adulthood, I’ve always kept up with my prayers, no matter what my lifestyle looked like. My faith, though at times quiet, was always present. I remember a dream I had when I was about 15 years old that left a profound mark on my spiritual compass. In the dream, I stood amidst a massive crowd under Masjid al-Aqsa, waiting for a rock to fall into a designated hole as a sign that Islam was the true religion. When the rock fell into place, chaos erupted among the people. That dream stayed with me throughout my life, embedding itself into the framework of my belief in Islam, even during the periods when I wasn’t fully committed to its practices.

As life unfolded, my husband, with his strong religious background, became instrumental in deepening my understanding of the deen. He possessed a wealth of knowledge about Islam, and we frequently engaged in discussions on religious matters. However, I often withdrew when these conversations touched on topics that reminded me of the responsibilities I had yet to fulfill, such as wearing the hijab. It felt like a commitment that came with expectations I wasn't fully prepared to embrace.

By 2012, amid the buzz of "Nostradamus" and talk of the world ending, I started to feel a strong pull toward wearing the hijab. I told my husband I was considering it and even began buying modest clothing. But my ego got the best of me, and I soon put the idea on hold. I tried to ignore the growing conviction in my heart, but it was like trying to suppress something inevitable—an elephant in the room that I really couldn’t deny. 

That summer was pivotal. One morning, I woke up from a dream where I saw myself walking alongside a group of women in a marathon, all wearing hijab. The sun’s light was strong in the dream, and I remember feeling a sense of peace. That dream was the push I needed. That same day, I went out with my daughter, wrapping my hair in a scarf for the first time. It wasn’t easy, but by the end of the day, we were at the supermarket where I saw another woman in a hijab, shopping with her kids. She looked effortlessly comfortable and free, leaving a lasting impression. So I took that as a sign. 

A few days later, we went to a theme park in the middle of July, during a heatwave, and once again I wore the hijab wrapped as a bun. But it wasn’t the way I wore it that mattered—it was the commitment I was finally honoring. I realized that if I didn’t act on this conviction now, I would be ignoring the intuition I had always trusted. Wearing hijab became less about the fabric and more about the relationship I had developed with myself and my faith.

The transition into wearing hijab wasn’t instantaneous; it was a gradual process. I had always respected hijab deeply and wanted to make the change before my daughter started school, to spare her the confusion of seeing her mother make such a significant transformation during her formative years. I adhered to modesty by wearing long tunics and pants, but dresses were a challenge for me. They made me feel overly formal or restricted, so I shied away from them. Wearing a dress with hijab felt like stepping into a new identity, one I wasn’t sure I was fully prepared for.

In my mind, the hijab became a personal contract—one I committed to after years of reflection. I wore it with conviction, recognizing it as the start of a new chapter in my life, much like entering into a marriage. Just as marriage allows you to truly understand your spouse through shared experiences, wearing the hijab enabled me to deepen my connection with my faith on a more personal level. It wasn’t an endpoint, but rather the beginning of a new perspective—one grounded in intention and patience, but like marriage, it didn’t mean everything would always be perfect or without challenges.

By the time 2020 arrived, I was moving through life on autopilot. As we all became consumed by COVID protocols, I found myself only feeling at ease if everything around me seemed in order. Then, we were confronted with the terminal phase of my father’s life. During this period, the slower pace of the world offered us an unexpected gift of time to serve him, and simply be there for him as a family in his final days.

By the time of my father's passing, the weight of my internal struggle grew heavier. Though it was easy for me to silence my struggles—I had always kept them tucked away on the top shelf, as if hiding them would make them disappear. But as time went on, they began to surface, demanding attention in subtle yet persistent ways. 

It wasn't something I could easily resolve, yet ignoring it was equally impossible. I tried—for the sake of my responsibilities, my sense of balance—to push it aside. So by October 2021, life had settled down just enough that I found more time for myself. In that newfound solitude, I turned toward my faith. I began to realize that perhaps all those years of asking Allah (swt) for answers were not in vain. If He had not yet resolved this for me, maybe it was a sign that I needed to work harder, to delve deeper into my connection with Him.

Embracing Allah’s Wisdom Without All the Answers

Solitude has always been my sanctuary, a space where I could spend time with my thoughts without interference. So it was during tahajjud prayer where I silently grew in my faith, even when my understanding of Islam was incomplete. I was able to acknowledged the reality that the state of my condition remained more superior to focus on than my emotions and actions; I had to remove my feelings from the equation so it wouldn't have to dictate the circumstances i'm in.  This reality is precisely why I detail the "empty path" I chose to navigate through the circumstances i'm in. It wasn’t an easy or straightforward path, but rather one that forced me to seek the peace necessary. 

I started with small, steady changes. I began fixing my Fridays, making a conscious effort to improve my spiritual routines on that blessed day. I made it a point to recite Surah Al-Kahf. I also stopped listening to music on Fridays, allowing the day to be a time of remembrance, as I believe observing this day serves as a reset of the heart and mind. Gradually, I corrected my prayers, pulling myself out of the autopilot mode that had crept in over the years. I began to take my time reciting the verses, extending my moments in sujood, and expressing genuine and fair dua. This new rhythm of prayer became a sanctuary, a consistent source of peace and direction.

The more I made space for this spiritual refinement, the more I understood how Allah (swt) handles our affairs with His precise wisdom. Even though the external circumstances of my life haven’t changed, I found peace in knowing that Allah was fully aware of my situation and that His omnipresence is real. I wasn’t someone who required much to begin with—my needs were simple, mostly taken care of within my home. I didn’t seek out extra indulgences like salons, inauthentic luxuries or fancy restaurants. My peace, my care, was found in the steady space of my home.

Discovering Deeper Truth's Through Life's Trials

There’s a reason I emphasize the importance of getting to know yourself and how deeply personal this journey has been in strengthening my faith. It’s not a one-size-fits-all path, nor is it linear. But in the bigger picture, all the good we seek in life depends on how much we rely on Allah (swt). I realized that I had cultivated an identity shaped by how others saw me, so I had no choice but to focus on what truly made sense to me. Had it not been for my sincere efforts, I wouldn’t have become open to His guidance. Being receptive means following those inner urges that prompt us to act justly and fairly, regardless of our emotions or personal wants.

The most pivotal moment in my journey came as a clear and profound experience. During the first week of Ramadan 2023, I awoke at 3 a.m. from a dream that felt divinely implanted in my heart. In the dream, I saw a woman whom I believed to be from the lineage of Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). She encouraged me to wear the niqab, just as she did, with the understanding that I, too, carried the proof of his lineage. The impact of this dream was immediate, as I realized it was connected to a series of events that, in hindsight, had been preparing me for this moment. I was also shocked, as it unfolded in a manner similar to other dreams that previously came true. However, after a few days, I still experienced feelings of reluctance and challenge. Yet, the very next night, the same woman appeared in my dream again, confirming that this was indeed a spiritual step I needed to take.

I can't express the form of gratitude I felt experiencing this type of heart implanted discovery, but that didn't change the work and responsibility I still had to do. Transitioning into wearing the niqab took time and I struggled to find balance in both worlds, but the concealment of the niqab provided the space I needed for deeper self-reflection, as I continued to strengthen my trust and reliance on Allah. This outward change triggered an inward transformation that, given my personal circumstances and struggles, was meant only for me to fully understand. It enabled me to embrace this shift with an open perspective, while following the example of our Prophet Muhammad (pbuh). 

Sharing this dream reflects a strong stance, rooted in personal experience.  Which is why true understanding is usually gained through personal experience. There’s an irony in trying to describe understanding with words, and that is also why we often gain it through the hard truths of life. This shift taught me that trusting in Allah’s wisdom had to be my priority, even when I couldn’t fully articulate everything to those around me. It was a mark of faith for me to contain what I know and focus on my Rabb. 

I understood that wearing the niqab would draw attention, questions, and judgment—especially from those who had known me as a "California mom" who seemed to fit into a certain lifestyle. But this change was something only I could truly comprehend. I came to realize that it wasn’t just about wearing a garment—it was about accepting the truth of my circumstances while enduring the test of faith, knowing that Allah’s plan has always been the path for me.

The Coincidental Wisdom of Dreams

My father used to tell me I had the sense of direction of a cab driver, always emphasizing how street-smart I was. Yet, after his passing, I felt truly lost. As I deepened my prayers, Allah (swt) began to reveal His inspiration through the influence of my father. He became a key figure in my dreams as a form of support and guidance. Through these instances, I’ve learned that sometimes you can know what to do, but you don’t always know how to express it. When I encountered communication barriers, I realized that "well done is better than well said" as I endured circumstances that only Allah (swt) witnessed and understood fully.

Most importantly, I’ve learned that when Allah (swt) eases your hardship, He does so through the gift of knowledge and understanding, allowing you to see your situation more clearly. Even without external support, this has been the essence of my experience in having faith. 

Looking back, I now recognize that the wealth of wisdom my father left me should have been taken seriously much earlier. Now, as I navigate life’s uncertainties, I’ve learned to trust that the emptiness I once felt wasn’t a void, but a space left by Allah. I earned the space to walk forward, knowing the proof in my prayers is what truly matters. As the verse in Surah Yusuf reminds us, 'Allah al-Musta’an'—He is the One to be sought, the One who holds all the answers.

Prophet Yusuf’s story resonates deeply with me, especially the connection with his father, Prophet Yaqub, who stated, "I only complain of my suffering and grief to Allah." This reminds me that having good moral intuition and pure intentions allows us to follow Allah’s path, reaching for the truest form of comfort and relief during difficult times, with the assurance that Allah will not leave us lost. Through this surrender, I’ve learned to trust in Allah's plan and continue pursuing the peace I've always sought.