Professional Documents
Culture Documents
I still vividly remember the first night I spent by myself in the hospital after
delivering my eldest son Shaan. The guests were gone for the day, the
hallway lights were dimmed, the nurses were speaking outside my room in
muted tones.
The nurse wheeled in the crib that held my newborn, only a few hours old
at the time. She cooed over him as I struggled to sit up, then efficiently
handed him into my waiting arms, bustling out of the room after giving me
a few words of encouragement.
I pulled the blanket away from his cheek and smiled in awe at this fragile,
little creature who was being left alone with me for the first time ever. I felt
privileged to be trusted with his care, overwhelmed with the weight of
responsibility. No one was watching over my shoulder; he was all mine and
I could do whatever I wanted.
I felt it was an appropriate time to take care of something that no one had
thought of arranging so far — introductions.
It’s a question that I have continued to ask since that first magical night in
the maternity ward.
What I have found in my years of “field research” is that nearly all of these
families have stumbled upon the same basic secrets to success. While
many of them don’t necessarily know one another, time and time again
they have given me the same advice, the same tips, the same rules. I
would catalogue their stories in my head, thinking I could easily remember
them later. So when I was recently approached with the request for an
article on Muslim parenting tips, I jumped at the chance to put it all down
in writing and thus preserve the valuable insights I have gathered over the
course of the past twelve years or so.
Here then, for my benefit and yours, are the tips from the “experts”, the
tried-and-true heroes who have worked hard at (and, insha’Allah,
succeeded at) securing their children’s minds, hearts, and souls. These
words come from those parents — like you — whose primary purpose in
life has been to direct their sons and daughters onto the Path they believe
will earn them the Pleasure of their Creator and the respect of their fellow
human beings. Some of the advice may seem “common sense”, the type
you could hear on any daytime talk show or read in any self-help book.
Other tips genuinely surprised me at how specific and unyielding they
were in their insistence that “This is the only way”. While there has been a
whole variety of advice given to me, I have noticed a pattern emerging
where the same ten “Rules of the Game” seem to keep reappearing in
different shapes and forms; those dominant tips are the ones that I have
chosen to focus on for the purpose of my article.
I have seen with my own eyes children under the age of ten who willingly
set their own alarms to get up for Tahajjud prayer. I have hosted a young
soccer marvel in my home who begins his day before mine by reciting
Quran at Fajr. I know of an Ivy League university student who insisted on
turning the car around because she realized she had left home without
giving her mother salaams (farewell wishes). I have been acquainted with
doctors who make more money in a single month than most people make
in a single year yet choose to live in small homes with no mortgages so
that their salaries can be spent supporting scholars of Islam. My husband
and I work with a young man who once flew with his mother from
California to Jordan, then turned around and returned on the next flight
home — all of this so that his single mother didn’t have to travel across the
world alone. I have witnessed fourth graders who were able to sit quietly
with impeccable etiquette in front of Muslim scholars while the adults
around them stretched, yawned, and sighed. I have heard children silence
their young friends with urgent reminders, “Don’t say that about him! It’s
backbiting!”
A sign of someone whom Allah loves is that when you see him/her, you
remember Allah. The examples I have listed here are all people who have
caused me to wonder about my own station with Allah in relation to theirs;
they have motivated me to at least try to change, to improve. I’m sure
readers will agree that, although Allah Alone knows the hidden reality of
hearts, these people at least seem to have triumphed both in their
embodiment of the true spirit of Islam and in their practical participation in
the dunya. I pray that Allah Subhana wa Ta’ala will continue to send
examples like them into our lives so that we may continue to learn and
implement that which draws us closer to Him. Aameen.
Every single family I have “interviewed” about raising children in this day
and age inevitably began by reminding me about the power of
supplication. “Every success I have seen in my family’s life, I can
remember having prayed for it first,” admits one grandmother of three
huffadh (memorizers of Quran). “If my dua doesn’t come true in this world,
I have faith that it will in the next one, so I have patience.”
Another mother of four tells me, “I recited Surah Maryam every single day
of my pregnancy. I want pious children above all else — it’s all that
matters.”
A convert friend of mine suggests that couples who are about to embark
on the path of parenthood should ask themselves, “Why do we even want
children?” She believes in renewing one’s intentions on a daily basis. “Who
are we doing this for?” When she gets embarrassed by something her
children say or do, she questions herself, “Why am I upset? Is it because
I’m afraid that they’re doing something displeasing to Allah? Or is it
because I’m afraid that they’re displeasing people?”
Her unwavering dua is that her children live their lives seeking only His
pleasure.
“All that I have is due to my mother’s duas,” believes one mother of five
children. “She was the one who was always praying for us, even when we
forgot to.”
“Sometimes I look around at the people I hang with and I think ‘What
happened?’” laughs a mother who has chosen to homeschool her three
kids. “None of these folks are the type I would have chosen as friends
when I was younger, but I admire the way they live their lives and crave the
peace and tranquility they trail behind them everywhere they go. They
have a sense of purpose and an awareness of Allah in everything they do. I
want to pass those qualities on to my own kids, so here we are.”
“Suhba is of the utmost importance. If you sleep with the dogs, don’t be
surprised if you rise with the fleas,” a respected scholar advises. The
words that struck me the hardest with their wisdom? “When you sit with
People of the Dunya, you become a drop in their ocean, but when you sit
with People of the Akhira (Hereafter), the dunya becomes a drop in your
ocean.”
One father confesses with a sheepish laugh, “I don’t know if our children
are so God-conscious because of anything we necessarily did. My nieces
are very spiritual young women, and my own daughters were always drawn
to them. I think we got lucky that our children wanted to follow in their
older cousins’ footsteps.”
“On the Day of Judgment, you’ll be standing with the ones you loved most
in the dunya,” reminds another well-loved scholar, “so choose your friends
wisely.”
More than one parent has gushed about the power a charismatic aunt or
uncle, imam, halaqa (study circle) leader, or Sunday School teacher has
had over their young ones. Many of the adults gave up a good portion of
their weekends, driving long distances to take their children to gatherings
and events where they hoped their children would benefit from being
around like-minded people. “I firmly believe that having no friends is
better than having bad friends,” states a father of five childen, “but I did
go the extra mile to make sure that my kids did have friends with whom
they connected.”
“Sometimes kids start to tune out what the parents say because it’s all
been said before,” a mother of a middle schooler smiles. “My own parents
told me to pray all my life, but it wasn’t until I connected with an articulate
teacher who explained how prayer was for our benefit that I finally got the
message…and it was my friends who led me to that teacher.”
When a learned scholar was recently asked, “What should we teach our
children?”, his response was swift and unequivocal — “The seerah
(biography of the Prophet) and nasheeds (devotional songs of praise). If
your kids love the Prophet, they will automatically love Allah.”
“The best way to call people to Islam is to have them fall in love with the
Prophet,” insists another scholar. “Children should fear and love Allah, but
teach them about the love first. They can learn about the fear when
they’re older. And who loved Allah more than the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi
wasallam)?”
Many of the parents made it a regular part of the daily routine to recite the
sunnah duas — the duas for beginning and ending meals, the duas for
entering and leaving the home, the duas for waking and sleeping — until
they became automatic. It isn’t a surprise for guests in their homes to see
children as young as three reciting the dua for traveling as they get
strapped into their car seats. “We didn’t minimize any sunnah in our
home,” one Pakistani-American father tells me. “Once you start to think,
‘Oh, that sunnah isn’t a big deal; we can ignore it’, you’ve entered
dangerous territiory. What comes next?”
In order to help his children learn the daily duas, this father neatly prints
the supplications on index cards and posts them up all over the house
until the kids have learned them by heart. I decided to follow his lead and
taped up the dua for “looking at one’s reflection” on my sons’ bedroom
mirror, completely forgetting to put a card on my own bathroom mirror.
The result? My eleven-year-old now knows exactly what prayer to recite
while brushing his hair for school, whereas I struggle to remember the
Arabic words when getting ready in the morning.
4.) Having fun wasn’t “haraam” in our home, but we kept the home
environment as pure as possible.
“If Shaytan (Satan) were to ring our doorbell and ask if he could come in
and babysit our children, we would throw him out,” one scholar says, “yet
we allow the television set to do exactly that…we literally invite Shaytan in
when we turn the TV on!”
“But don’t think we were bored or deprived!” she is quick to reassure me.
“My parents inculcated in us a love of Urdu poetry. We read classic English
literature aloud to one another in the evenings and went on father-
daughter hikes in the mornings. My mother showed us how to garden, my
father taught us how to fish. My brother had a paper route; the younger
ones were Girl Scouts. We had a home life full of energy and activity.”
“It’s important to replace every haraam you stop your child from with at
least two halaals they can enjoy,” advises a popular Muslim family
counselor. “You don’t want your children to grow up thinking that Islam is
just a bunch of no’s — ‘no, you can’t do this; no, you can’t do that.’” She
laughs heartily, “Make it about ‘yes, we can!’”
I have a Yemeni friend who has taken that philosophy to heart with gusto.
She and her husband may not throw birthday or New Year’s Eve parties,
but you should see the festivities they do arrange. When her twins
memorized the thirtieth juz (chapter of the Quran), the picnic in the park
was enjoyed with two separate gourmet cakes and party favors for all.
When this same brother-sister team went on to memorize the twenty-
ninth juz, they came home from school to discover their bedrooms
decorated with streamers and presents. My five-year-old son Raahim and
his preschool buddies recently memorized twelve surahs under this
auntie’s guidance, and she was quick to organize a party complete with a
pinata, awards, balloons, and treats. With memories like these, Muslim
adults are bound to look back on their childhoods as a time filled with
celebrations, insha’Allah.
The result of this family’s “test” was a tidy, simply furnished home where
the television set was absent and books lined the shelves. Flowers
bloomed outside every window, intricate Islamic calligraphy adorned the
walls, and healthful food was served with generosity and enthusiasm to all
who entered. The sense of serenity in the air was something tangible.
I’ll never forget what one daughter of a highly respected elder in the
community told me when I asked her how her siblings remained so close
to their parents despite being raised in a small town with only a handful of
Muslims. Didn’t they ever rebel? How did they resist the siren song of the
un-Islamic peer culture around them? “If you feel love in your home, you
don’t look for it anywhere else.”
5.) Our parents didn’t just “talk the talk”, they “walked the walk”.
“I don’t get it when I hear mothers telling their kids ‘Don’t tell lies’ and
then in the next breath smoothly tell phone callers, ‘Oh, he’s not home
right now’ when the husband is sitting right there in front of them,” says a
medical school resident who is spending time learning Hanafi fiqh as well.
“Or how about when parents teach their kids ‘It’s wrong to backbite’ and
then complain about the in-laws to anyone who will listen? It’s just beyond
me!”
Another experienced mother gave me this age-old advice, “You can teach
your kids the rules of prayer all you want, but if you’re not going to pray,
they’re not going to pray. Children learn from what their parents do, not
just what they say.”
“But it’s not enough to just teach your children to pray,” interjects another
mother who was raised a secular Jew but is now Muslim. “What about how
you pray? Do you have presence in your prayer? Are you sad if you ever
miss a prayer? Those lessons are all just as important as learning to pray.”
I was once working with an African-American convert friend when the time
for Maghrib prayer came in. I had been busy taking care of some tasks,
but I stopped and said, “Well, I guess I better go get my prayer out of the
way.”
Startled, she looked up and then chuckled. “In our house, we say we’re
going to get prayer ‘in the way’.”
“I was sitting in my room reciting my morning dhikr while the kids were
completing an art project in the family room,” an Egyptian friend shared
with me the other day. “It suddenly struck me that I always recite my
litanies in private, so I got up and joined them in their area of the house.
They continued to paint while I continued with my prayers. They need to
see me doing this…and they need to see me doing this happily.”
The other day one of my sons became frustrated while searching for an
elusive pencil in the writing desk. He shoved papers aside and slammed
the drawer shut when no pencil materialized, grumbling the entire time. I
began to lecture him about the merits of patience when I realized that I
had behaved in the exact same manner while looking for my keys a few
days earlier. Children really are like sponges; they soak in everything
around them. “Garbage in, garbage out,” cautions one teacher.
“Children need to see that Islam ‘worked’ in our home,” says another
scholar. “Islam isn’t just about praying and fasting and charity. Islam is an
attitude that must be infused in the mundane day-to-day dealings with
life. Do parents treat each other with respect? How do they react to the
ups and downs of life? Do they have a sense of civic responsibility?
Children are constantly learning from their parents, even when the parents
don’t think they have anything to teach.”
6.) I wasn’t afraid to be the Bad Guy, but I never behaved badly.
I know more than one mother who doesn’t feel comfortable telling her
child to pray or maybe to dress more modestly, thinking that her kid will be
“mad” at her if she starts holding him/her to higher standards. I know of a
couple of fathers who have turned a blind eye to certain immoral
behaviors witnessed in their teenagers, never once speaking out, telling
their exasperated wives, “I don’t want to judge our kids. It’s a tough age
and they have to fit in.”
The adults I’ve asked for parenting advice had no qualms about upsetting
their children from time to time.
“There were times when I knew that I shouldn’t go to this place or go out
with that person, but I would ask Ammi anyway, wanting her to be the one
to put her foot down…and she always did,” remembers my brother. “Kids
want their parents to set limits and be authority figures, even if they won’t
admit it.”
One father of four and former high school valedictorian looks back on his
youth and laughs appreciatively, “My mother didn’t worry about not
‘rocking the boat’ when we were in high school. She was willing to capsize
the boat if she found us doing something that wasn’t okay with her!”
A single mother I know always assumed that her children would eventually
begin praying simply because they saw that prayer was a priority for her.
When a friend asked her why her ten-year-old daughter didn’t join the
other girls for prayer, this mom realized that she had never communicated
her hopes to her own daughter. “It was only a matter of discussing it!” she
exclaims with genuine surprise. “I sat her down for a serious ‘grown-up’
talk. I said, ‘Honey, you’re older now and prayer needs to be a regular part
of your routine.’ She listened so attentively! When Asr came in, she ran to
get her prayer rug and misbaha (prayer beads) and joined me for salaah.
She’s the one who wakes me for Fajr now. It’s almost as if she was just
waiting for me to tell her, ‘This is what I expect of you’.”
While these parents were quick to lay down the law with their children,
there was one “old world law” that nearly all of them shied away from —
corporal punishment. “We did not hit our children,” most of them say
adamantly.
“Well, there might be a place for a good old-fashioned spanking every now
and then,” argues a mother of four college students. “When my daughter
was four years old, she ran out in public without her underwear on for the
umpteenth time. In my opinion, it was too dangerous to let her keep
getting away with that kind of behavior, so I finally let her have it. She got
the message and never forgot it…and I never had to spank her again.”
I wasn’t surprised to see that nearly all of the families I spoke with had the
mother at home caring for the children, but I was shocked by how many of
the families shared the same steadfast rule — “No sleepovers.”
“I saw too many weird things in other friends’ homes when I was younger…
and that was just during the daytime,” remembers an attorney and father
of three. “The first time my best friend saw a dirty magazine was when he
spent the night at his neighbor’s house. I might have resented their
strictness a bit when I was younger, but in my heart I knew that my parents
were right to keep us in our clean, safe, and cozy home.”
“I never let them go far from me when they were little,” explains a mother
of two when asked by me how to raise a dutiful son like hers. “My kids
could have gone on camping trips and overnight field trips with other
parents as chaperones, but unless my husband or I were there, they didn’t
go. My husband was once willing to consider a prestigious boarding
school for one of our ‘gifted’ children, but I said, ‘No way.’ I just couldn’t let
my family be split in different directions; the time we had with them was
already short enough.”
“No nannies or day-cares for our family,” says a grandmother of five. “And
don’t think that I wasn’t tempted! I raised three babies on my own without
any help; I didn’t have parents or in-laws nearby. A one-income-family
meant that we only took local vacations and drove second-hand cars. We
lived in a small home. I went back to work only after the kids were in
school, but I was always at home in time to greet them with a smile, a hug,
and an after-school snack. Even now, my grown children tell me that the
smell of peanut butter and jelly gives them a feeling of security.”
Another mother of four, who is able to afford live-in help, made an
agreement with her husband long ago that while the maid would be
available to help with laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping, all of the
actual food preparation and childcare would be done exclusively by the
parents. “My husband thinks dinner comes together by ‘magic’,” laughs
this stay-at-home mom with a master’s degree in business. “But,
masha’Allah, he is very helpful with the children, so I get my fair share of
‘breaks’. When we need a night out for ourselves, we rely on the
grandparents or my sister…but never strangers.”
8.) We didn’t spoil our kids nor did we praise them too much.
When asked the definition of a “sibling society”, he explains that it’s the
environment where grown adults behave and are treated like children.
“We’ve extended adolescence where we excuse bad behavior by saying,
‘Oh, he’s just going through that rebellious phase. He’s only sixteen; he’ll
outgrow it.’ Outgrow it when? Throughout history, puberty has been
considered the onset of adulthood; nowadays we have university
graduates who behave like babies — tantrums, irresponsible behavior, no
sense of accountability.”
This father celebrates his children’s birthdays every year by giving them a
new toy…and a new duty. “When my son turns seven, he’ll get that
monster truck he’s been craving, but he’ll also get a new responsibility for
the year — he has to make sure that all the doors in the house are locked
before going to bed.”
He and his wife believe that having responsibilities, even small ones,
inculcates in children a sense of contribution and chivalry.
I was recently given cause to reflect when a friend of mine politely refused
an invitation for her daughter to recite her award-winning poem at a masjid
event. “Masha’Allah, she has received a lot attention and praise this past
week for that poem,” she sighed. “The other day she just happened to be
interviewed for a local science program on television too. I just don’t think
it’s beneficial for her nafs (ego) to be in the spotlight too much, so I’m
going to have to say ‘no’.”
This mother believes that praise becomes “cheap” when it is given for that
which children have no control over; she feels that kids should have to
“earn” the praise that comes their way. “What’s the point in telling a child
who always gets A’s, ‘You’re so smart’? Or telling a pretty child, ‘You’re so
beautiful’? Telling a child who’s struggled through an assignment, ‘I’m
proud of how hard you worked on that difficult worksheet’ is so much
more meaningful.”
One mother who is often asked the secret behind her kids’ contentment
with life has this theory to offer: “It’s actually something I’ve discovered by
accident. We have never been motivated to buy the latest gadgets and
gizmos for our kids. To compensate for the things that we won’t buy, we
give them something that’s free yet still very valuable — our time. I bake
with them, their dad wrestles. We snuggle on the couch and read together.
I think they’re rarely dissatisfied with material goods because they are just
so grateful for what little they do get. They don’t have a sense of
entitlement. And since whining has never worked anyway, they just don’t
bother.”
The father adds, “Well, to be honest, we are spoiling them, except that
we’re spoiling them with something that’s lasting, not fleeting — our love.”
I was once singing “Rain, rain, go away; Come again another day; Shaan
and Ameen want to play” with my kids when my brother interrupted us.
“Don’t teach them that! Rain is a blessing! You don’t want them rejecting
blessings just because they want ‘fun’,” he rebuked me.
After experimenting with the lyrics, we ended up singing, “Rain, rain, pour,
pour, pour; You’re a mercy from our Lord; Rain, rain, fall on me; I turn to
Allah gratefully.” To this day, whenever dark clouds dampen a day that
they had hoped to spend outside, my kids console one another by saying,
“It’s okay. California needs the rain. Allah is being Kind to us.”
“When your kids are younger, you should take advantage of every
opportunity to guide them, remind them, advise them,” instructs an Iraqi
father of two girls. “Of course, there’s a fine line between nagging and
teaching, between being judgmental and being perceptive. Nevertheless, I
encourage my children to look at everything through ‘the eye of
discernment’. What does everything around us mean? Why is that
billboard saying that their brand of soda will guarantee a successful party?
What was the real reason that car driver honked his horn like that? Why
does this movie make parents look like bumbling fools? Is having to wait in
a long line ever a reason to lose your temper with a bank teller? Talk, talk,
talk to your kids! Even if they don’t say anything, believe me, they’re
listening!”
“I want to get my ‘voice’ into my kids’ heads while they’re young,” says
one mom. “There are so many forces competing for our kids’ minds; I want
to get in while I can. There will come a time when we all have to let go, but
I’m hopeful that my children will always remember their root values once
they’re out on their own, insha’Allah.”
The families I’ve admired have all made a point of being “present” with
their children, answering their questions patiently and respectfully, not
getting annoyed with their seemingly random thoughts, laughing
appreciatively at their jokes, and maintaining eye contact when the
children wanted to chat. The kids feel that they can ask any question and
discuss any subject without any judgment on the part of the parents.
“You know that cliche ‘There’s no such thing as a dumb question’?” asks a
Persian friend who is also a Fulbright scholar. “Well, that was always true
in our family. I could ask my mom anything, and I was always confident
that I would get an honest answer. There were times when I was told that I
would have to wait a bit before she was ready to teach me certain truths,
but I was able to be patient because I knew that the truth was eventually
coming.”
An Arab girlfriend once described how her mother would react when she
and her siblings misbehaved as children. “May Allah guide you!” she would
yell in anger. “May Allah have mercy on all of us!” The inevitable result was
that her daughter grew up to be a mother of twins who now prays for her
children instead of cursing them when she is at the height of her own
frustration.
Just today Shaan told me about how his younger cousin reacted after he
watched Ameen splatter a mud ball against a wooden fence. “Mama, he
yelled, ‘SubhanAllah! Allahu Akbar!’” my son related with amusement.
“He’s just like his dad; he says the same things Khaloo (Uncle) does.”
10.) They had a pious father who engaged them.
Yes, there are pious mothers who have raised wonderful Muslim kids
despite having husbands who not only didn’t support them, but even
disapproved of their attempts to teach their kids the basics about the
deen. And there are single moms who are doing an incredible service to
the Ummah by sacrificing, striving, and successfully raising the next
generation of believers. We all are more than aware that the mother is the
first madrassa (school). And there are examples after examples of
mothers who spend the night on the prayer mat weeping in prostration for
the future of their families; their secrets are known only to Allah.
But over and over I have seen lackadaisical mothers with pious husbands…
and the kids have turned towards their fathers like flowers to the sun. How
many of us know of young adults who roll their eyes at their mothers’
religiosity while holding their “fun-loving”, worldly, secular fathers up as
paragons of rationalism and intelligence? There is a power that fathers
have over their offspring, the depth of which we can never fully
comprehend; the truth manifests itself when we witness which parent the
kid most often chooses to emulate.
A majority of the families I spoke with extolled the virtues of the Amir of
the House: the man who led his children in congregational prayer, the
father who gently but firmly encouraged both his son’s and his daughter’s
sense of modesty, the husband who fulfilled his wife’s rights without
demanding his own, the responsible breadwinner, the dad who put a stop
to gossip the moment it started, the patriarch who was eager to hasten to
the masjid to join the jama’ah (congregation), the Muslim who held fast to
his principles (whether it was a father who refused to allow his co-workers
to shorten his name from “Mohammad” to “Mo” or the dad who wouldn’t
travel on Fridays so that his Jumah prayer wouldn’t be jeopardized). The
grown children remember their father’s integrity and quiet examples long
after they have entered parenthood on their own, voluntarily choosing to
mold their own lives in honor of a man who didn’t force his way of life
down their throats when they were younger.
“My mother lectured and taught and scolded and reminded us the entire
time we were growing up,” one mother of three sons remembers with
amusement. “My father told me maybe only five things related to the deen
my whole life…and yet I remember every single one; I’ve never forgotten. I
only wish he had shared his thoughts with me more often.”
Years later, I sat in the class of a learned shaykh and took down these
notes of instruction: “Don’t be mercantile in your religion. Lose the
attitude of ‘Pay me and I’ll worship You.’”
The truth resonated with me because I had already heard it from the lips
of my beloved father twenty-five years earlier.
IN CONCLUSION
While I have always been a fan of “how to” and “top ten” lists, I have never
allowed myself to be deluded into believing that there are any guarantees
for raising righteous children. It hasn’t been lost on me that the greatest
man in humanity, the Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam), was
intially raised by a single mom…and that too after being sent away to live
amongst the bedouins in the desert while still an infant. Many of the
“rules” here didn’t apply to his blessed life. His was a singular
circumstance, having been raised by Allah Subhana wa Ta’ala Himself. All
we can do is try to lay out a safe framework in hopes of trying to reach
what he (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) reached through Allah’s largesse.
There may be some who will read through the list of tips I have collected
and think, “We didn’t do any of those things, yet our kids turned out just
fine!”
To them, I say, “Alhamdulillah!” It’s true that there are many kids who
didn’t have a single one of these “rules” applied to their lives, and, by the
Grace and Mercy of Allah, have developed into exemplary Muslims.
And without going into unnecessary details, I will say that I have also seen
the most pious, practicing, loving parents be disappointed by their
children at every turn. These parents are in the company of prophets like
Prophet Adam and Prophet Nuh (upon whom be peace) who had sons
who rejected their teachings — yet these were fathers who were from
among the best of humanity, parents who were in a constant state of
supplication and prayer, who received guidance from Above. We can only
pray that Allah Subhana wa Ta’ala will not test us through our children the
way He tested these great men and their wives. It’s interesting to note that
many of the men and women in my article have confessed that there were
times they felt that they had failed in their duties as parents but took heart
knowing that with Allah’s Help all obstacles could be overcome. Eventually,
they all came to the conclusion that there was only “so much” they could
do; they needed to submit to Allah’s Will.
There is great comfort in knowing that parents will be rewarded not for
how our children “turn out” but for the intentions we had while raising
them, for the steps we took to facilitate their deeni success. All we can do
is take the means; the end is up to Allah. “Even if one’s kids go astray,”
advises a scholar, “one should always leave a ‘door’ open for them and
pray that they will one day ‘come back’. We should never cut off relations;
we should never despair of Allah’s Mercy and Guidance.”
“Parenting and living in this dunya is such a struggle,” reflects one friend.
“We have aspirations of who we want to be as parents and we strive to
achieve them, and then are saddened by seeing our failures. I guess it’s
really about the courage to continue to renew one’s intentions and to pray
for tawfiq (success).”
None of the parents I interviewed felt “safe” or believed that they had won
and were now done with their work. They continued to pray for daily tawfiq
long after everyone had started lauding them for the fine job they had
done raising their children. “It doesn’t matter how wonderfully we live our
lives,” says one local scholar and father of two girls. “What really matters
is how we end our lives (husn al-khatima)…we’re not safe until we die with
imaan (faith) in our hearts.”
It is with that knowledge that we pray that Allah Subhana wa Ta’ala grants
us the dua for “a pure progeny” that He granted Prophet Ibrahim, Prophet
Zakariya, and the mother of Maryam (upon them all be peace) in the Holy
Quran. We pray that we are able to be worthy teachers for our children
who will carry this noble religion on, a precious trust to be handed from
one generation to the next. May we not be “the weak link”. Aameen.
“O my Lord! Make me one who establishes regular Prayer, and also (raise
such) among my offspring.
O our Lord! And accept Thou my Prayer.
O our Lord! Cover (us) with Thy Forgiveness — me, my parents, and (all)
Believers,
On the Day that the Reckoning will be established!”
~ The Holy Quran (14:40)
MISCELLANEOUS RECOMMENDATIONS
As far as seerah literature for the young is concerned, I have found that
Leila Azzam’s “Life of the Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi
wasallam)” adequately fits all of my family’s needs. A summary of Martin
Ling’s excellent adult version of the Prophet’s biography, this book is often
used to teach university students, so one can rest assured that it is written
with an eye for proper grammar and punctuation, something sadly missing
in many of our children’s Islamic textbooks today. Parents of younger kids
need not worry that the material might be too sophisticated for their little
ones; my friend was able to use this same book to teach my preschool-
aged son and his friends about the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam).
One can only imagine my delight when my five-year-old repeatedly turned
to me in the middle of my adult Seerah class at the mosque to excitedly
tug on my arm and whisper, “Hey, I know about Bilal (may Allah be pleased
with him) saying ‘Ahad, ahad’!…Mama, I learned about Buraq in my class!…
Guess what? Auntie just taught us about Ghar-e-Thawr today!”
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