Short Story: The One Who Hears All Prayers

The One Who Hears All Prayers

By: Sarah Siddiqui

“Are you ready, Sister Jessica?”

He was asking her. His eyes looked off to the side somewhere, his body was purposefully leaned away, displaying the pure respect that all men should have for women they don’t know, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind. He was asking her directly. And she was terrified, yes. Terrified of what this would mean for her life, terrified of how her family would react, terrified of her friends’ judgement, terrified of this massive decision she was about to make. But she was also excited.

“I’m ready.”

He said the words slowly, taking pauses so as to not rush her, and she repeated them haltingly, tongue stumbling over the foreign letters. The words were strange to her, but she could feel them take root in her heart, soothing her soul.

“Ashadu ʾal lā ʾilāha ʾilla -llāhu, wa-ʾashadu ʾanna muḥammadan rasūlu -llāh. I bear witness that there is no God except Allah, and I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.”

And as the people around her cheered their ‘Takbir!’ and applauded loudly, and the women rushed up to smother her in heartfelt hugs, she closed her eyes, relishing in the pure love that flourished around her.

***

It had been a week since she had made the best biggest decision of her life.

She was struggling a bit. Her family had not taken well to the news. They were a ‘modern’ family; they believed in curiosity, and they believed in accepting each other’s differences. But there was a big difference between tolerating the Muslims and having one oftheir own become said Muslim. And Jessica tried to ignore them, but it could be so, so hard sometimes.

But luckily, she had the Muslim community at her back.

She had an endless supply of ‘aunties’ who would invite her over for dinner and ‘uncles’ who would offer her discounts on her groceries. She had teachers who would give her books on Islam and teach her how to pronounce the Arabic. And she had sisters. She had so many new, kind, beautiful sisters who would cheer her on and cheer her up, always willing to spend hours listening to her rambling or spend hours rambling themselves just to make her laugh.

So it was tough, yes. She was losing a family.

But she had gained an entire community. And she was so blessed to have them.

***

It had been a month since she had made the scariest decision of her life.

And Jessica was extremely overwhelmed.

She hadn’t had contact with anyone in her family in weeks. Her old friends now avoided her, as if her religion was something contagious to fear. She felt very alone.

Even the community that had once been so open and inviting had lost interest.

It wasn’t on purpose. It was just that, for them, they believed they had done their part. They had fed her and supported her for weeks and now their job was over. The sisters she had made, had other sisters who they were so much closer to. The aunties and uncles had other young people to look after. Surely, she was equipped to deal on her own now.

But the reality was that she wasn’t. There was still so much she didn’t understand, still so many times she felt confused by a seemingly basic word the Imam would say during a Khutbah, still so many times she had no idea if she was making Wudu correctly.

She didn’t need anything fancy. She didn’t need lunches and books and lectures. She just needed a friend. Someone who would support her but could also be a source of at least the basic Islamic knowledge that even the children seemed to possess.

Oh, the children. Ya Allah, it was the children who hurt her the most. The children with their sweet eyes and innocent words, who would look at her blond hair, hear her stumbling recitation, and whisper to their moms, “is she a Muslim too? But she’s so… different.”

She would never hold it against them because they only asked with the simple curiosity and wonder that all children possess. But somewhere, deep, deep down, she knew she would never truly fit in, she would always be the “ghori”, the white lady, an outsider.

Sometimes she would think to herself, was it worth it? Was it worth leaving her family, her people, all for a community that she could never belong in?

But then, immediately, guilt would well up inside her and she would force away those thoughts.

She had Allah SWT on her side. She didn’t need anyone else.

***

It had been almost three months since she had made the hardest decision of her life.

Jessica couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t take the stares, the loneliness, the pain of it all. She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of the Masjid, staring at her skin, her eyes, her face framed so unnaturally by the Hijab around her head. She had prayed Maghreb and it would be her last ever Salat because though the Adhan for Isha was going on, she was finally done. Done suffering in silence, done begging from a God who wasn’t replying, done being Muslim.

She raised a shaking hand, pulling out the pin holding her Hijab in place, and slowly unraveled her scarf, letting it fall off her head and onto her shoulders.

“Wow you’re so beautiful, Masha’Allah.”

Jessica made eye contact through the mirror, with the woman who had just entered the restroom and smiled awkwardly.

“I mean, not that you’re not beautiful with your Hijab as well, I’m sure it looks good on you as well, Masha’Allah.” The lady continued speaking, as she stepped up next to her, taking off her own Hijab and pushing her sleeves up, as she prepared to make Wudu.

Jessica’s mind raced as she tried to remember what Masha’Allah meant. Was it, Glory to Allah? No, that was Subhan’Allah. Was it, All praise is to Allah? No, that was Alhamdulillah… What did Masha’Allah mean?

“MashaAllah, technically speaking, is similar to InshaAllah, by the Will of God. But it’s used in the sense of like when you are very impressed with something, so like you’re so beautiful, Masha’Allah, you’re so beautiful by the Will of Allah.”

Jessica gaped at the other woman, as she explained. She must have seen the confusion and shock in Jessica’s eyes, because she spoke up again, looking guilty.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just assumed. It’s just you looked a little lost by the word, so I thought I’d explain it to you, but I’m sorry, I hope you’re not offended.”

“No, no.” Jessica finally spoke, rushing to clarify. “Thank you. Really, thank you, I was just too shy to ask, but thank you for explaining.”

The other woman beamed, her smile so sweet and kind, it seemed to light up everything around her. “My name’s Mariam. What’s yours?”

Jessica winced. She hated introducing herself because if nothing else, her name was an immediate giveaway of her background. But she couldn’t not respond either. That would be rude. “My name is, uhh, it’s uhh, it’s Jessica.”

“Well, Jessica. It’s nice to meet you.”

Huh. Well that’s a new one. There had been no awkward pause, no strange look, no judgement at all.

“Ooh, look at the time, they’re probably about to start Isha. Are you coming?”

And Jessica went back on that decision she had made to herself, not even ten minutes ago; she fixed her Hijab back up, renewed her intention and went out to pray Isha.

***

It had been a year since she had made the best decision of her life.

Jessica had finally found that inner peace that she had been craving all along.

There were still struggles in her path and hurdles she had to work hard to overcome, but the appearance of Mariam in her life had been the greatest of blessings.

After that first initial meeting, they had exchanged numbers, and Jessica had thought that they would become casual acquaintances, occasionally texting but never really close. But then Mariam had texted her the very next day, and then the day after and the day after and soon it had become a regular occurrence.

Mariam had been the balm that her battered spirit had needed. She had been the one to hold her up, keep her going. She had been the one who had answered any questions that Jessica threw at her. She had been the one who helped her to learn Arabic and begin, not only reading the Qur’an fluently, but actually understanding it. She had been the one to offer food and shelter and every single material possession she owned.

To Mariam, Jessica owed everything. Because Mariam had saved Jessica’s Islam and, in doing so, she had saved Jessica’s soul.

And Jessica would forever be grateful to Mariam and, even more grateful to Allah SWT, the Most Merciful, the Most Generous, the All-Hearing, because He had heard her Duas, her pleads, her desperate calls. And when she had needed Him most, when she had been the closest to losing her way, when she had been at her lowest point, He had answered in the best of ways.

“Surely, my Lord is the One who hears all prayers.” (Qur’an, 14:39)