Lions Are Dandy, Not Bitter

Parenting is the collaboration of both motherhood and fatherhood — a natural cycle of life that brings forth the challenges that set us apart. Both roles aren’t just held accountable for the words they speak — for the active, verbal guidance they give to teach, protect, and provide — but also for how they stand as a living demonstration of that integrity they talk about.

Children don’t just hear guidance; they see it. It’s in both the guidance and the expression of that guidance where children’s inherent intelligence perceives real security. Safety, after all, is the biggest topic in life. Everything we do — and don’t do — is shaped by the precautions and warnings we’ve been made aware of.

It’s not just the diversity of culture that sets us apart, but the culture built inside our homes — the everyday ways we show what we value and why. Growing up with retired parents gave me a dynamic lens: when I was younger, I was fierce, spunky, and passionate; then, my teenage years brought inner struggles — fear of getting in trouble, misunderstandings, and the stress of internalizing feelings. Yet those same struggles pushed me to develop integrity, to stand up against what I felt wasn’t healthy.

I witnessed how easily culture and religion could get tangled, and how parents — even with the best intentions — could sometimes be in the dark about their children’s real fears and mistakes. In my own parenting, especially during a long phase of divorce cases, I believed Allah was helping us all find a safe understanding of what it meant for my children’s parents to step down from marriage. I would hold little huddles to explain where we were and why — sometimes they’d lose patience and shut me out. At the time, I didn’t realize how little I truly knew. Looking back, I see now that Allah was giving them direct guidance, allowing them to fear Him more deeply than anything I could say aloud.

They saw the proof for themselves. But as with all children, their vulnerability was like a ball bouncing down the stairs — they couldn’t wait for the pressure to be released. And that tension pushed against the very idea of parents working together. I remember we used to play monkey in the middle with the kids, and metaphorically, it became a game where they instinctively tried to get the ball from “the opponent.” Yet I raised them to always respect their opponent, to see that respect as part of faith itself. In our family huddles, I reminded them that Allah’s guidance in such unusual circumstances was going to be hard — but it was there for a reason.

I’ll never forget the first day I was alone with my eldest daughter — my firstborn. I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of responsibility, a deep fear that awakened that fierce, protective “mama bear” in me. But even then, my intention was never to raise my children just for myself. My “curriculum” as a parent was to prepare them for the wild world, to help them survive and thrive outside my arms. Because of my own dynamic upbringing, I felt responsible for passing on only what truly mattered: the living culture of who we are and how we do things at home.

So I raised them for themselves. I would sit next to them during time-outs, sharing my own childhood mistakes so they knew falling short didn’t mean falling apart. At bedtime, I’d read the protective verses of the Quran over them, never neglecting that. I tried to give them the best of both worlds — letting them “play” with the very things I didn’t want them to, because curiosity is powerful. They needed to learn why, so they could hold back from real dangers later in life not because someone screamed “Don’t do it!” but because they understood the cost themselves.

Even in moments when they fell or got hurt, I controlled my reaction, so they wouldn’t fear falling itself. Things happen — and fear can kill ambition faster than failure ever could.

So judge me if you must about my circumstances today. I know my babies, and they know me. And if somehow they don’t, then I trust Allah is defending me in ways I can’t see. Even those closest to me, whose betrayal shattered sisterhood, tried to diminish my parenting along the way. People judged me for everything: staying away from artificial dyes, using peanut oil instead of canola, choosing museums over malls, and setting fruit-and-nut platters instead of chips.

But those choices weren’t about being different for the sake of it — they were a reflection of the home culture I grew up in. I was the youngest when my parents retired; my father, with his distinct palate, wouldn’t allow shortcuts in food — and that attention to detail reflected his quiet leadership. Having my parents retire during my tween years was a blessing: I got to know their healed versions and learn from my grandmother, whose greatest love language was tenderness and care.

In many ways, my children remind me of dandelions: resilient by design, able to take root and grow even in places that don’t seem meant for them. Parenting, as I’ve come to see it, isn’t about creating perfect soil or controlling every gust of wind. It’s about teaching them how to hold on when life feels uncertain and how to let go when it’s time to move forward.

Just like dandelions don’t rely on rich, sheltered soil to bloom, I didn’t want to raise my kids only for the sheltered spaces. I wanted them to recognize both the softness and the rough edges of life, to understand where boundaries come from, and to carry that quiet inner strength that holds even when everything around them shifts.

Because real security doesn’t come from wrapping them in layers of protection. It comes from helping them see what matters, guiding them to live it, and letting them learn to bend with the wind without breaking who they are.

Surah Al-Hujurat quietly sets up a framework for parenting because it encourages patience to wait and get all the answers, respect while waiting, and good behavior even if things don’t turn out the way we expect. It teaches us to think deeper about the sources we rely on, to make sure they don’t have ulterior motives, and reminds us that belief is something individually personal and ultimately proven to the ones who stay obedient above all.

The concept of “fighting” in the name of Islam is really like the idea of the “get along shirt”—but because the word “fight” triggers our fear response, we think of aggression first. Allah clarifies that fighting here means to think deeper, to repel evil with good, and to find an active, fair solution that’s permissible. He reaffirms that our responsibility as Muslims is to uphold the Muslim “hood”: to take care of each other, not divide and conquer for status or fame.

He then points out this challenge usually comes from those who gossip, shame, and waste time in idle talk—fueling suspicion and corruption, and imagining they own the people they talk about. Allah reminds us that the most honored among us are those who have taqwa, and that saying “we believe” is not the same as actually believing. True faith is proven through striving to follow Allah’s guidance and the Prophet’s sunnah. And He reassures us we shouldn’t try to measure our faith like we weigh ourselves on a scale; real belief should flow naturally, without reaching for an “extent” that makes us feel inferior. In the end, the deen truly is a strive—and only Allah knows the unseen battles and what kind of work the angels must do to guard us from what tries to corrupt our hearts.

Surah Al-Hujurat
In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

O you who believe! Make not (a decision) in advance before Allah and His Messenger, and fear Allah. Verily! Allah is All-Hearing, All-Knowing.
O you who believe! Raise not your voices above the voice of the Prophet (peace be upon him), nor speak aloud to him in talk as you speak aloud to one another, lest your deeds should be rendered fruitless while you perceive not.
Verily! Those who lower their voices in the presence of Allah's Messenger (peace be upon him), they are the ones whose hearts Allah has tested for piety. For them is forgiveness and a great reward.
Verily! Those who call you from behind the dwellings, most of them have no sense.
And if they had patience till you could come out to them, it would have been better for them. And Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.
O you who believe! If a Fasiq (liar — evil person) comes to you with any news, verify it, lest you should harm people in ignorance and afterwards you become regretful for what you have done.
And know that among you there is the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him). If he were to obey you (i.e., follow your opinions and desires) in much of the matter, you would surely be in trouble. But Allah has endeared the Faith to you and has beautified it in your hearts, and has made disbelief, wickedness and disobedience (to Allah and His Messenger) hateful to you. Such are they who are the rightly guided.
(This is) a Grace from Allah and His Favour. And Allah is All-Knowing, All-Wise.
And if two parties or groups among the believers fall to fighting, then make peace between them both. But if one of them rebels against the other, then fight you (all) against the one that which rebels till it complies with the Command of Allah; then if it complies, then make reconciliation between them justly, and be equitable. Verily! Allah loves those who are the equitable.
The believers are nothing else than brothers (in Islamic religion). So make reconciliation between your brothers, and fear Allah, that you may receive mercy.
O you who believe! Let not a group scoff at another group, it may be that the latter are better than the former; nor let (some) women scoff at other women, it may be that the latter are better than the former. Nor defame one another, nor insult one another by nicknames. How bad is it to insult one’s brother after having Faith [i.e., to call your Muslim brother (a faithful believer) as: “O sinner,” or “O wicked,” etc.]. And whosoever does not repent, then such are indeed Zalimun (wrong-doers, etc.).
O you who believe! Avoid much suspicion; indeed some suspicions are sins. And spy not, neither backbite one another. Would one of you like to eat the flesh of his dead brother? You would hate it (so hate backbiting). And fear Allah. Verily, Allah is the One Who accepts repentance, Most Merciful.
O mankind! We have created you from a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that you may know one another. Verily, the most honourable of you with Allah is that (believer) who has At-Taqwa [i.e., he is one of the Muttaqun (the pious)]. Verily, Allah is All-Knowing, All-Aware.
The bedouins say: “We believe.” Say: “You believe not but you only say, ‘We have surrendered (in Islam),’ for Faith has not yet entered your hearts. But if you obey Allah and His Messenger (peace be upon him), He will not decrease anything in reward for your deeds. Verily, Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.”
Only those are the believers who have believed in Allah and His Messenger (peace be upon him), and afterward doubt not but strive with their wealth and their lives for the Cause of Allah. Those! They are the truthful.
Say: “Will you inform Allah about your religion? While Allah knows all that is in the heavens and all that is in the earth, and Allah is All-Knower of everything.”
They regard as favour upon you (O Muhammad (peace be upon him)) that they have embraced Islam. Say: “Count not your Islam as a favour upon me. Nay, but Allah has conferred a favour upon you, that He has guided you to the Faith if you indeed are true.”
Verily, Allah knows the unseen of the heavens and the earth. And Allah is the All-Seer of what you do.