Your Love is your Freedom

The realm of angels is not far removed from our reality; it is the unseen protection, the divine presence, and the silent advocacy that Allah assigns to every soul born into this world. Their purpose is not abstract—it is intimate, specific, and divinely aligned with the path each of us is meant to walk.

From the moment of our creation, Allah, in His infinite mercy, grants us a form of insurance: the angels who record every deed, every thought, every movement of the heart. These are not just records—they are precise, purposeful reflections of our spiritual journey. Every word uttered, every action taken, is measured and balanced with justice. This divine accounting system is not to shame us, but to offer us redemption. Through these records, we retrieve reason, we reclaim clarity, and we find the means to rise from our mistakes with hope.

But more than insurance, the angels are an assurance—a reassurance of Allah’s love and nearness. Their presence does more than observe; it shapes. They illuminate the intentions behind our actions, and it is through our intentions that they advocate for us. Their enthusiasm is a quiet force that surrounds those whose hearts are sincerely turned toward Allah. In gatherings of remembrance, in moments of dua, in the stillness of prayer—angels descend, bringing peace, calm, and a divine echo of belonging.

They are made of light, reflections of what we lack, and yet yearn to attain. They carry the Qur’an not in memory, but in essence. They carry Allah’s will not in theory, but in being. We, made of clay, carry the blessing of free will—a gift that demands responsibility. And so, while they embody the Qur’an, we must build it within us. We must memorize it, live it, feel it, and engrave it upon our hearts.

The angels exist as a reminder: that we are not alone in our striving. That in every sincere effort, there is unseen help. That Allah’s mercy surrounds us through them—documenting, guiding, and silently uplifting us as we attempt to align with His light.

Their realm is not distant—it is beside us. In every moment of remembrance, every repentance, every step toward good, the angels draw near. They are Allah’s promise, His protection, and the bearers of peace, advocating for our souls in both this life and the next.

And so I write this not just as a mother, but as a soul who has been entrusted with the amanah of raising children under the shadow of divine guidance, with the angels watching over each of our choices—mine, theirs, and even those of the ones who have tried to rewrite our story without justice.

To my children, if you ever read this, I want you to know: all the times I spoke to you about what we were going through—those difficult days, the emotional heaviness, the things that felt too big for your hearts to carry—none of it was ever the way I imagined guiding you. I never wanted to pass the deen through pain, but now I understand why those conversations never progressed. 

As your mother, I chose to protect your hearts, not push them. I gave the deen a home in our space, but I kept a respectful distance between its full practice and your growing understanding—not out of weakness, but wisdom. I wanted you to see it, not just obey it. To admire it before being overwhelmed by its discipline. To recognize the light of Allah in it before associating it with hardship. I thought if I helped you build cognitive confidence first—emotional intelligence, self-awareness, independence—you’d be better equipped to balance your Islamic identity with the outside world. That you’d choose it, like I did, when the time came.

It was my “getaway plan” from bad peer pressure. A way to keep you away from drugs, addictions, emotional dependencies, and the pitfalls I knew could come for you. And maybe in part, I failed. Maybe the timing was off. Maybe I gave too much freedom, or didn’t explain enough. But maybe, just maybe, Allah knew this path better than I ever could.

What we’re facing now—this painful distance between us—is not because of a lack of love, or a lack of faith. It’s because of outside influences that made their way into our bond. I know you're being pressured by your father to be distant with me in order to make our relationship difficult. What makes it harder is that he's not alone in this with my own mother and my sister, the very people who should have stood by me during hardship, have also fueled the division.And what hurt most wasn’t their betrayal of me—but their betrayal of you.

They’ve encouraged you to doubt me. To mistreat me. To see me through a distorted lens. And as painful as it is to admit, their influence has created a version of me in your eyes that doesn’t reflect who I truly am.

Only Allah knows and the Angels are always there. They’ve been with us all along— and they won't leave you habaybi. Deep down, I believe your hearts know the mother I am , my protection for you,  my passion to teach you emotional awareness, and my guarding of your hearts. But right now, you’re being pressured and told to hold back from me. You’ve been taught that strength means silence—and that standing by me would cost you too much.

You know what I've taught you and how and why. We have to endure this by trusting the will of Allah and don't ever deny or stop relying on Him and His angels. You just don't stop believing.

Be the angels I know you to be. 

Disclaimer: I will be relieving my entire family, parent, siblings, aunts, uncles, & cousins from the burden they believed I was to them.