As much as I hate to admit it, I was of those who were wishing that the coming of Ramadhan was delayed this year. Drowning in the toxicity of this life, I didn’t feel ready. I didn’t feel like I had prepared enough. So as others were restlessly counting down the days and hours till this beautiful of guests was to grace them with their presence, I felt as if my tongue was empty in its sincerity. I found my heart hollow in its hesitance.
But the mercy of this month does not exclude even sinners like I. As the first sunset on that first day dawned, I felt a loosing of knots within my soul- as if someone was breathing fresh air into my flailing lungs. Almost as if my soul was reaching out for all that it had been deprived in these last twelve months. As weak as it was, it was slowly but reaching for what it knew it needed- like a frail beggar extending his hand in dire thirst for just that one sip of water- knowing therein lay its remedy. Maybe sometimes our souls know things our physical faculties can never comprehend.
And so that night as each moment elapsed, I felt that knot slowly loosening…loosening. And as I stood there in prayer with complete strangers, a sense of solidarity overwhelmed me- we are all here prepared with our unpreparedness. Standing, untethered hearts in hand, with the anticipation that He will mend what is broken within us.
Al hamdulilahhi rabil aalameen. He is the one who hears me even when I am silent. The One who has always nourished me. How then, can I deny that His is the perfect decree? AlRahmaan Al Raheem. Cradling me like a child His mercy envelops me, irrespective of whether or not my human eye can see. Maliki Yawm iddeen. He is the One I will return to. It has never been about anything or anyone else. All that matters is me and Him. Ihdinas siratul mustaqeem. Guide me towards what is pleasing to you. O turner of hearts! Turn me onto your way. And though I may lapse and let go of you again and again, never let me go. Never leave me to myself.
And so as each crisp verse from the tongue of the imam echoed around me. Words from my Lord meant for an undeserving I, I felt the shackles I had fastened around my heart slowly slacken. I can never be fully prepared for the mercies he showers down upon me. I will always arrive bereft and negligent. But He sees me. He hears me. He knows me. He knows that each year, I will need these days to come and fill my wounds. How each year as my life progresses and I grow, my wounds will be different but the healing they yearn for will always be the same.
This Ramadhan may we all find our healing in Him.