My Journey to Islam

My Journey to Islam

September 15, 2025 - Shukr - Gratitude

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on shukr—gratitude. It’s easy to be thankful when blessings are obvious, but the real challenge is recognizing the hidden gifts: the delay that protected me, the loss that taught me, the silence that invited me to listen more deeply. Gratitude is not just about counting what I have—it’s about trusting that even what I don’t have is written with mercy.

I’ve noticed that when I practice gratitude, my heart feels lighter. Even small acts—saying alhamdulillah for the taste of water, the ease of breath, the comfort of a safe night’s rest—become like little lanterns, illuminating the path of faith. Gratitude turns ordinary moments into worship.

Still, I sometimes forget. I slip into longing for what I don’t yet hold. But in those moments, I remind myself that Allah doesn’t ask me to have everything—He asks me to recognize that everything I do have comes from Him. Gratitude isn’t the absence of longing—it’s the presence of trust.

“If you are grateful, I will surely increase you [in favor]; but if you deny, indeed, My punishment is severe.”
— Qur’an 14:7

This verse teaches me that gratitude is not only a reflection of faith—it is a key to abundance. The more I notice Allah’s blessings, the more He opens my eyes to see them. Gratitude doesn’t change what I own—it changes how I live.

My Journey to Islam

September 8, 2025 - The Weight of Patience

This week, I’ve been thinking about the weight of patience. It’s not always dramatic or heroic—sometimes it’s simply the decision to hold steady when the heart wants to rush, to stay grounded when the mind wants to wander. Patience has become, for me, a form of quiet courage: trusting that Allah’s timing is not late, not early, but perfect.

There are days when waiting feels heavy, when unanswered prayers linger on my tongue, and when my plans don’t unfold the way I imagined. Yet, in those very moments, I sense that patience is not an absence of action—it is an act of faith. It’s me telling myself: Allah has written this moment with care. Be still, and trust Him.

Patience has also softened the way I see others. Instead of rushing to judgment, I remind myself that everyone is carrying their own unseen trials. Just as Allah is patient with me, so I must try to be patient with others.

“And be patient, for indeed, Allah does not allow to be lost the reward of those who do good.”
— Qur’an 11:115

This verse reminds me that patience is never wasted. Every time I hold back frustration, every time I breathe through difficulty, every time I wait with trust—it is all seen, all recorded, and all rewarded. My journey continues with this in my heart: patience is not passive—it is worship.

My Journey to Islam

September 1, 2025 - A Gentle Anchor

Faith, for me, is often discovered in the quiet beginnings of a new month. It feels like a reset, a fresh chance to realign my heart with Allah. Today I am reminded that Islam is not about grand, unreachable leaps—it is about steady steps, taken with sincerity. Even when my pace is slow, every effort toward Allah is seen, remembered, and cherished by Him.

One of the most comforting truths I’ve learned is that even small acts, done with love for Allah, carry immense weight. A short prayer whispered while walking, a moment of gratitude before sleeping, a gentle word to someone who needed kindness—these are not forgotten. They are all threads in the fabric of faith, weaving strength into my journey even when I don’t notice it at first.

Of course, there are days when my heart feels distracted, when my mind drifts away in prayer, or when doubts creep into the edges of my thoughts. But instead of letting those moments pull me down, I remind myself that Allah looks at my effort, not my perfection. Each return, each attempt, is part of the journey—and every return is loved.

“So remember Me; I will remember you. And be grateful to Me and do not deny Me.”
— Qur’an 2:152

This verse is a gentle anchor. It tells me that remembrance is a two-way bond—when I strive to remember Allah, He remembers me. And in that truth, I find both comfort and strength. My journey continues, not with perfection, but with presence.

My Journey to Islam

August 25, 2025 - The Long and Winding Road

The path to faith has never been a straight line for me. It is a winding road, filled with pauses, hesitations, and sudden bursts of clarity. Today, I find myself reflecting on the moments in between—the quiet intervals when nothing feels extraordinary, yet something subtle is shaping me.

I used to believe that faith was built only in great moments of revelation, but now I understand it’s also nurtured in the small, everyday choices: the whisper of a prayer before dawn, the patience to hold my tongue when anger tempts me, the quiet surrender of my worries into God’s hands. These little acts may seem fragile, but together they form the foundation of something unshakable.

There are still days when doubt creeps in, when the weight of my past feels too heavy to carry into the light. But I remind myself that Islam is not about perfection—it is about striving, about returning, again and again, no matter how many times I stumble. Allah’s mercy is greater than my flaws, and that truth gives me strength to rise each day with hope.

“Do not despair of the mercy of Allah. Indeed, Allah forgives all sins. Truly, it is He who is the Most Forgiving, Most Merciful.”
— Qur’an 39:53

My journey is not finished—it never will be. But perhaps that is the beauty of it: faith is not a destination but a living, breathing relationship with the Divine. And today, I choose to walk forward, even if the steps are small.

My Journey to Islam

August 18, 2025 - A Heavy Heart

Today, my heart feels heavier than usual. Grief has a way of weaving itself into faith, testing its strength and stretching it to its limits. Losing someone dear—whether a family member, a friend, or even a beloved pet—leaves an emptiness that no words can truly fill.

Islam has taught me that loss is not the end, but a reminder. Allah says in the Qur’an: “Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return” (2:156). Those words carry a quiet truth—every soul we love is only entrusted to us for a time. When Allah calls them back, it’s not cruelty; it’s part of His divine plan.

In my sadness, I’ve found comfort in knowing that the mercy of Allah extends beyond this life. Every tear, every ache, every whispered dua in the dark becomes a bridge between here and the Hereafter. I pray for reunions in Jannah, where no goodbyes exist and love is endless.

Grief doesn’t fade quickly. But with faith, it transforms. It becomes a gentle reminder of what truly matters—preparing for the day when I, too, will return to my Creator, and meeting those I’ve lost in the shade of His mercy.

May Allah grant peace to every grieving heart and reunite us with our loved ones in a place where sorrow will never touch us again. Peace be upon you.