What Is A Dad?
A dad is someone who
wants to catch you before you fall
but instead picks you up,
brushes you off,
... and lets you try again.
A dad is someone who
wants to keep you from making mistakes
but instead lets you find your own way,
even though his heart breaks in silence
when you get hurt.
A dad is someone who
holds you when you cry,
scolds you when you breakthe rules,
shines with pride when you succeed,
and has faith in you even when you fail..See More
MOTHER
Somebody said that a child is carried in its mother's womb for nine months.
Somebody does not know that a child is carried in its mother's heart forever.
Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after
you'vehad a baby....
Somebody doesn't know that once you're a mother, normal is history.
Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct.
Somebody never took a three-year-old shopping.
Somebody said being a mother is boring.
Somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit.
Somebody said if you're a"good" mother, your child will "turn out good."
Somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee.
Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices.
Somebody never came out the back door just in time to see her child
hit a golf ball through the neighbor'skitchen window.
Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother.
Somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math.
Somebody said you can't love the fifth child as much as you love the first.
Somebody doesn't have five children.
Somebody said a mother can find all the answers to her child-rearing
questions in the books.
Somebody never had a child stuff beans up his nose.
Somebody said the hardestpart of being a mother is labor and delivery.
Somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of
kindergarten.
Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one
hand tied behind her back.
Somebody never organizedseven giggling Brownies tosell cookies.
Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after herchild gets married.
Somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law
to a mother's heartstrings.
Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home.
Somebody never had grandchildren.
Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to tell her.
Somebody isn't a mother.
--
:->
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Islam is a religion of Mercy, Peace and Blessing. Its teachings emphasize kind hear tedness, help, sympathy, forgiveness, sacrifice, love and care.Qur’an, the Shari’ah and the life of our beloved Prophet (SAW) mirrors this attribute, and it should be reflected in the conduct of a Momin.Islam appreciates those who are kind to their fellow being,and dislikes them who are hard hearted, curt, and hypocrite.Recall that historical moment, when Prophet (SAW) entered Makkah as a conqueror. There was before him a multitude of surrendered enemies, former oppressors and persecutors, who had evicted the Muslims from their homes, deprived them of their belongings, humiliated and intimidated Prophet (SAW) hatched schemes for his murder and tortured and killed his companions. But Prophet (SAW) displayed his usual magnanimity, generosity, and kind heartedness by forgiving all of them and declaring general amnesty...Subhanallah. May Allah help us tailor our life according to the teachings of Islam. (Aameen)./-
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Wednesday, May 2, 2012
A dad is someone who wants to keep you from making mistakes
Moving Beyond Blame
I wrote the piece above over ten years ago. It has taken me almost
these entire ten years to learn to forgive myself. I still sometimes
see someone on the street who looks like Joe, and I have a moment of
excitement, then I remember that he is gone. But I don't blame myself
anymore. I made a mistake, but I'm not responsible for Joe putting a
needle in his arm. With everything he had to live for, he had no
excuse. If having a family, friends and freedom wasn't enough of a joy
for him, then it's unlikely that anything I said would havemade a
difference.
I don't want to blame Joe either. He lost the battle against his
internal demons, and that's enoughfor me to say. I still love him. I
guess I've gotten beyond blame, to a place of understanding or
acceptance. I'm able to think of Joe with gratitude,and with no
bitterness or regret to color it. I originally titled this piece,
"Trying to Remember the Good Times", but if I had written it today I
might callit, "Remembering a Kind Soul."
That's the miracle and glory of the human heart. That is one of the
countlessblessings of Allah. He gives us hearts that heal, and spirits
that forgive, and Time, our dear friend, who carries away all wounds
in the gentle sweep of its current.
"Allah said: 'Sons of Adam inveigh against [the vicissitudes of]
Time,but I am Time, in My hand is the night and theday.'" (hadith
qudsi, agreed upon)
If Allah is Time, and Allah isAr-Rahman ir-Raheem (TheMerciful and
Mercy-Giving), then time is a mercy and ablessing. The passage of
time is a balm and a cure.
I try to do better now in reaching out to anyone I care about who
might be in pain. I try to express something about the deen to the
non-Muslims in my life. I don't preach, but I share my enthusiasm for
Islam in small ways, and I offer a perspective that includes Allah.
If I could go back, what would I do differently? I have come to
realize that the question serves no purpose. The Polk Street festival
is a memory, a day in history, an image on a fading photo. Agonizing
over it does not help.
A better question is, what will I do differently today? What will I do
differently tomorrow, when the California sun comes up blazing, and
the world is new again, and I am blessed beyond belief with another
opportunity to redeem my soul, and to love my family and friends,and
to prostrate to Allah, and to change the world? What will I do
differently then?
That's all that matters.
"And put your trust in Him Who lives and dies not; and celebrate His
praise; and enough is He to be acquainted with the faults of His
servants." – Quran, 25:58/
--
:->
these entire ten years to learn to forgive myself. I still sometimes
see someone on the street who looks like Joe, and I have a moment of
excitement, then I remember that he is gone. But I don't blame myself
anymore. I made a mistake, but I'm not responsible for Joe putting a
needle in his arm. With everything he had to live for, he had no
excuse. If having a family, friends and freedom wasn't enough of a joy
for him, then it's unlikely that anything I said would havemade a
difference.
I don't want to blame Joe either. He lost the battle against his
internal demons, and that's enoughfor me to say. I still love him. I
guess I've gotten beyond blame, to a place of understanding or
acceptance. I'm able to think of Joe with gratitude,and with no
bitterness or regret to color it. I originally titled this piece,
"Trying to Remember the Good Times", but if I had written it today I
might callit, "Remembering a Kind Soul."
That's the miracle and glory of the human heart. That is one of the
countlessblessings of Allah. He gives us hearts that heal, and spirits
that forgive, and Time, our dear friend, who carries away all wounds
in the gentle sweep of its current.
"Allah said: 'Sons of Adam inveigh against [the vicissitudes of]
Time,but I am Time, in My hand is the night and theday.'" (hadith
qudsi, agreed upon)
If Allah is Time, and Allah isAr-Rahman ir-Raheem (TheMerciful and
Mercy-Giving), then time is a mercy and ablessing. The passage of
time is a balm and a cure.
I try to do better now in reaching out to anyone I care about who
might be in pain. I try to express something about the deen to the
non-Muslims in my life. I don't preach, but I share my enthusiasm for
Islam in small ways, and I offer a perspective that includes Allah.
If I could go back, what would I do differently? I have come to
realize that the question serves no purpose. The Polk Street festival
is a memory, a day in history, an image on a fading photo. Agonizing
over it does not help.
A better question is, what will I do differently today? What will I do
differently tomorrow, when the California sun comes up blazing, and
the world is new again, and I am blessed beyond belief with another
opportunity to redeem my soul, and to love my family and friends,and
to prostrate to Allah, and to change the world? What will I do
differently then?
That's all that matters.
"And put your trust in Him Who lives and dies not; and celebrate His
praise; and enough is He to be acquainted with the faults of His
servants." – Quran, 25:58/
--
:->
India, Delhi ''Red Fort'', Lal Quila, Delhi
Indian history
:->
The king Shah Jahan shifted his capital from Agra to Shahjahanabad and
laid the foundation of the Red Fort or Lal Quila on the April 16,
1639. It took nineyears to build this strong city and I have ended
April16, 1648. It is said that about one crore rupees, anastronomical
sum in thosedays, was used for its construction. Half of this sum was
spent to build the exotic palaces within the fort. Built of red
sandstone, is octagonal, with two longer sides on the east and west.
The perimeter of the wallsis about 2.41 kilometers strong. Red Fort
stands at a height of 33.5 m on the side of the city and 18 m along
the River. Surrounded by a wide moat of the fortress, which was
originally connected with the river and was always full of water. The
two main entrances, known as Lahori Gate and Delhi Gate(so named
because they face Lahore and Delhi, respectively) are three stories
high and are flanked by semi-octagonaltowers. They are located in
central west and south sides, respectively.
The main entrance of Lal Quila is through the LahoriGate. Beyond the
door there is a covered walkway, flanked by arcaded apartments leading
to the palace, known as Chhatta Chowk. These apartments are used as
shops. Besides these, there are three doors in other places, which are
locked now. Themaster builders of the RedFort were Hamid Ahmad.
Visitors are allowed only in a part of Red Fort, as the army occupies
the restof it. Some of the main buildings inside the fort are:
Diwan-i-Am
Diwan-i-Am or Hall of Public Audience in the RedFort in Delhi.
Originally it had a patio in the front and was richly decorated with
gilded stucco. Heavy curtains hung in the main hall, which were three
bays in depth.
Hamam
Accompanying the Diwan-i-Khas, or Hall of selective hearing, the Hamam
(bath set) consists of three apartments connected by corridors. The
marble floors and are given floral designs inlaid with beautiful
colored stones.
Moti Masjid
The mosque Aurungzeb staff, Moti Masjid or Pearl Mosque, located west
of Hamam. Situated on a level above the courtyard, the prayer hall of
the mosque with inlaid black marble contours of 'Musalla' (small
carpets for prayers) and is surmounted by three bulbous domes.
Mumtaz Mahal
One of the six main palaces along the river front, Mumtaz Mahal was
also known as' Chhoti Baithak. A beautiful water channel called
"Nahr-i-Bihisht '(ie, the Stream ofParadise) flew through these
palaces. However, this palace has been removed, probably because it
was totally ruined.
Naubat Naubat Khana Khana, or Naqqar Khana (which means House of the
drum), is located at the entrance of the palace area. Here the music
was played five times a day at fixed hours. It is a door called "Hathi
Pol (ElephantGate), where visitors dismounted from their elephants.
--
:->
:->
The king Shah Jahan shifted his capital from Agra to Shahjahanabad and
laid the foundation of the Red Fort or Lal Quila on the April 16,
1639. It took nineyears to build this strong city and I have ended
April16, 1648. It is said that about one crore rupees, anastronomical
sum in thosedays, was used for its construction. Half of this sum was
spent to build the exotic palaces within the fort. Built of red
sandstone, is octagonal, with two longer sides on the east and west.
The perimeter of the wallsis about 2.41 kilometers strong. Red Fort
stands at a height of 33.5 m on the side of the city and 18 m along
the River. Surrounded by a wide moat of the fortress, which was
originally connected with the river and was always full of water. The
two main entrances, known as Lahori Gate and Delhi Gate(so named
because they face Lahore and Delhi, respectively) are three stories
high and are flanked by semi-octagonaltowers. They are located in
central west and south sides, respectively.
The main entrance of Lal Quila is through the LahoriGate. Beyond the
door there is a covered walkway, flanked by arcaded apartments leading
to the palace, known as Chhatta Chowk. These apartments are used as
shops. Besides these, there are three doors in other places, which are
locked now. Themaster builders of the RedFort were Hamid Ahmad.
Visitors are allowed only in a part of Red Fort, as the army occupies
the restof it. Some of the main buildings inside the fort are:
Diwan-i-Am
Diwan-i-Am or Hall of Public Audience in the RedFort in Delhi.
Originally it had a patio in the front and was richly decorated with
gilded stucco. Heavy curtains hung in the main hall, which were three
bays in depth.
Hamam
Accompanying the Diwan-i-Khas, or Hall of selective hearing, the Hamam
(bath set) consists of three apartments connected by corridors. The
marble floors and are given floral designs inlaid with beautiful
colored stones.
Moti Masjid
The mosque Aurungzeb staff, Moti Masjid or Pearl Mosque, located west
of Hamam. Situated on a level above the courtyard, the prayer hall of
the mosque with inlaid black marble contours of 'Musalla' (small
carpets for prayers) and is surmounted by three bulbous domes.
Mumtaz Mahal
One of the six main palaces along the river front, Mumtaz Mahal was
also known as' Chhoti Baithak. A beautiful water channel called
"Nahr-i-Bihisht '(ie, the Stream ofParadise) flew through these
palaces. However, this palace has been removed, probably because it
was totally ruined.
Naubat Naubat Khana Khana, or Naqqar Khana (which means House of the
drum), is located at the entrance of the palace area. Here the music
was played five times a day at fixed hours. It is a door called "Hathi
Pol (ElephantGate), where visitors dismounted from their elephants.
--
:->
A SHORT Story of Strong Faith:
A little girl went to her bedroom and pulled a 'Glass Jelly Jar' from
its hiding place in the closet.
Little girl poured the change out on the floor and counted it
carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No
chance here for mistakes.
Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twistingon the cap,
she slipped out the back door and made her way to 6 blocks to Rashid's
Drug Store with the big Red Indian Chief sign above the door. Little
girl waited patiently for the Pharmacist to give her some attention
but he was too busy at this moment. Little girl (Tasneem) twisted her
feet to make a scuffing noise; Nothing. Shecleared her throat with the
most disgusting sound she could muster; No good. Finally she took a
coin fromher Jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
"And what do you want?" the Pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of
voice. "I'mtalking to my brother from Lahore whom I haven't seen in
ages," he said without waiting for a replyto his question.
"Well, I want to buy an mmm..."
The Pharmacist stared backin the same annoyed tone.
"He's really; really sick.... and I want to buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon?" said the Pharmacist.
"My brother name is Aslam and he has something bad growing inside his
head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save my brother now. So how
muchdoes a miracle cost?"
"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help
you," the Pharmacist said, softening a little.
"Listen, I have the money to pay for miracle. If it isn't enough, I
will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs?"
The Pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man from Lahore. He
stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does
your brother need?"
"I don't know," Tasneem replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know
he's really sick and Mommysays he needs an operation. But my Daddy
can't pay for it, so I want touse my money."
"How much do you have?" asked the man from Lahore.
"Ten and half rupees. And it's all the money I have, but I can get
some more if I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "Ten and half rupees - the
exact price of a miracle for your little brother."
He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her
hand and said: "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother
and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."
That well dressed man from Lahore was Dr. Ashraf Beg, a surgeon
specializing in Neuro-Surgery. The operation was completed free of
charge and it wasn'tlong until Aslam was homeagain and doing well.
Mom and Dad were happilytalking about the chain of events that had led
them to this place.
"That Surgery," her Mom whispered. "Was a real miracle. I wonder how
much it would have cost?"
Tasneem smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost ... Ten and
half rupees ...plus the faith of a little girl.
Noble Qur'an says: "And when I am ill, it is He Who cures me." (26:80)
And mom also knew exactly how much a miracle cost ... selfless
devotion to their profession by doctors like Ashraf Beg ...
Noble Qur'an says: "Those who before them, had homes (in Medina) and
hadadopted the Faith; they show their selfless love andaffection to
those (Muslims)who came to them for refuge, and they entertain no
desire in their hearts forthings they give out (to theneedy), but give
them preference over themselves, even though poverty was their (own
lot). And those saved from the covetousness of their own souls, - they
are the ones that achieve prosperity." (59:9)
--
:->
its hiding place in the closet.
Little girl poured the change out on the floor and counted it
carefully. Three times, even. The total had to be exactly perfect. No
chance here for mistakes.
Carefully placing the coins back in the jar and twistingon the cap,
she slipped out the back door and made her way to 6 blocks to Rashid's
Drug Store with the big Red Indian Chief sign above the door. Little
girl waited patiently for the Pharmacist to give her some attention
but he was too busy at this moment. Little girl (Tasneem) twisted her
feet to make a scuffing noise; Nothing. Shecleared her throat with the
most disgusting sound she could muster; No good. Finally she took a
coin fromher Jar and banged it on the glass counter. That did it!
"And what do you want?" the Pharmacist asked in an annoyed tone of
voice. "I'mtalking to my brother from Lahore whom I haven't seen in
ages," he said without waiting for a replyto his question.
"Well, I want to buy an mmm..."
The Pharmacist stared backin the same annoyed tone.
"He's really; really sick.... and I want to buy a miracle."
"I beg your pardon?" said the Pharmacist.
"My brother name is Aslam and he has something bad growing inside his
head and my Daddy says only a miracle can save my brother now. So how
muchdoes a miracle cost?"
"We don't sell miracles here, little girl. I'm sorry but I can't help
you," the Pharmacist said, softening a little.
"Listen, I have the money to pay for miracle. If it isn't enough, I
will get the rest. Just tell me how much it costs?"
The Pharmacist's brother was a well dressed man from Lahore. He
stooped down and asked the little girl, "What kind of a miracle does
your brother need?"
"I don't know," Tasneem replied with her eyes welling up. "I just know
he's really sick and Mommysays he needs an operation. But my Daddy
can't pay for it, so I want touse my money."
"How much do you have?" asked the man from Lahore.
"Ten and half rupees. And it's all the money I have, but I can get
some more if I need to."
"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man. "Ten and half rupees - the
exact price of a miracle for your little brother."
He took her money in one hand and with the other hand he grasped her
hand and said: "Take me to where you live. I want to see your brother
and meet your parents. Let's see if I have the miracle you need."
That well dressed man from Lahore was Dr. Ashraf Beg, a surgeon
specializing in Neuro-Surgery. The operation was completed free of
charge and it wasn'tlong until Aslam was homeagain and doing well.
Mom and Dad were happilytalking about the chain of events that had led
them to this place.
"That Surgery," her Mom whispered. "Was a real miracle. I wonder how
much it would have cost?"
Tasneem smiled. She knew exactly how much a miracle cost ... Ten and
half rupees ...plus the faith of a little girl.
Noble Qur'an says: "And when I am ill, it is He Who cures me." (26:80)
And mom also knew exactly how much a miracle cost ... selfless
devotion to their profession by doctors like Ashraf Beg ...
Noble Qur'an says: "Those who before them, had homes (in Medina) and
hadadopted the Faith; they show their selfless love andaffection to
those (Muslims)who came to them for refuge, and they entertain no
desire in their hearts forthings they give out (to theneedy), but give
them preference over themselves, even though poverty was their (own
lot). And those saved from the covetousness of their own souls, - they
are the ones that achieve prosperity." (59:9)
--
:->
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