My nerves were like glass shards and when the doorbell rang, I could almost feel them shatter! I hesitantly opened the door and stood there frozen, like the icicles that hung from the eves. 

My excitement and apprehension had made me lose my ability to think. Should I reach out and hug her, or should I just let her in? Ya Rabb, what do I do? 

“Hello Sam, you look pretty”, Mom said in that soft, motherly tone that made me melt. She reached out and pulled me into a warm hug. Oh, how I had missed this! 

I saw the tears rolling down Mum’s plump cheeks and I pulled her close and we both wept silently. It had been months since we had been together. After what seemed like an eternity, we parted, and I led Mum to the kitchen to make tea and catch up.

We spoke at length about Dad’s slow recovery with Mum saying she felt hopeful that he would fully recover. As I served her, her tea, she looked at me and burst into laughter, surprising me, but it was hard not to follow suit.

Mum had suddenly noticed my dishevelled state, mismatched slippers and the bright, striped pink and black socks pulled over my grey track pants. My hijab sat lopsided on my head. I must have been a sight for sore eyes, but I was glad that I had Mum laughing and the tension had dissipated. Mum’s lavender scent mixed with a hint of cinnamon cookies clung to me, and it felt like old times again. At that moment, I realised how grateful I felt toward Allah for this miracle.

As we sipped tea and I munched on the cookies, Mum had brought along, we caught up with the happenings at home. We spoke until the call for the Asr prayer was made, and I explained to Mum that I had to make ablutions before I prayed. As I completed my prayer and lifted my hands in dua, I realised Mum was sitting on the window seat watching me. 

She smiled gently and what she said next made my heart soar like that of an eagle in its favourite habitat. “You look so at peace when you pray. Tell me about the different positions you make during the “sald”, I’m curious.”

I giggled, as I corrected Mum’s pronunciation, “It’s salaah, Mum, not “sald!” I explained to her the prayer and its positions but also the origins. She listened attentively.

As we chatted, she reached for my hand and whispered, “I like the new you. You’re calmer, more focused and there is this serenity about you.” “I didn’t think I would be able to say this, but I accept your choice, and I’ve made peace with it.” Her eyes were soft with unfettered love that only I mother could feel toward her child.

Without a word, I embraced my mother then, and we both cried silently. I felt a kind of peace and comfort wash over me. 

Allah is certainly Al -Muqsit, he provided me with comfort and acceptance just at the moment I needed it the most. He had answered my prayer — my mother’s heart had been softened, and she was here with me.  

That night, we sat under the covers to keep warm, whilst we talked. Midway through our spirited and giggly chat, Mom became sombre. “Sam, Mark and I talked and explained to him how Islam had changed you. That we could not judge you because you dressed modestly, you no longer drank and all the other negatives you had forsaken, and that this was a positive step for you.” She paused to catch her breath, “Even Dad recognised this. You are kinder and less judgemental. You had found your peace and I had not seen you this happy before.” She became quiet then and when she spoke again, her voice trembled, “Sam, I grew up thinking religion was backward, but you have shown me that I have much more to learn about life.”

I lay in the crook of my mother’s arm as she gently brushed my hair, and soon I was sound asleep.

Fatima always told me Allah does not give you what you want when you want, but rather when you needed it. I guess I needed to find my feet in Islam and purely accept the change before others could accept it. 

Allah had found you lost, and he guided you. (Quran: 93:7)