“When Worship Pauses: A Woman’s Reflection on Ramadan”

Ramadan arrived suddenly this year, almost without warning, same thing happened today … no warning

After two years of uninterrupted routine, I was caught off guard by a shift I never expected. It was already difficult to accept that I couldn’t fast due to my health, but now, something even more precious had been momentarily taken from me. The one act of worship that grounded me, the one place where I found solace, was no longer within my reach.

As women, we experience moments when our usual acts of devotion must pause—when we are unable to pray in the way we are accustomed to, when our connection to Allah takes a different form.

At first, it felt like a loss—like a door had been closed just as I was striving to go deeper in my devotion. But as the day passed and the weight of this reality settled, I began to see it differently. Perhaps this was Allah’s way of pushing me further, of urging me to seek Him in ways I had not yet explored. Perhaps He was teaching me that my connection to Him was not confined to one form of worship, that my soul could still reach Him through my words, my thoughts, my remembrance.

And so, through my reflections, my journaling, my blogging, my dhikr, and my dua, I will continue to search for Him with a new kind of yearning.

These final ten nights, though bittersweet, hold a depth I hadn’t known before. My dua feels heavier, more raw, carrying an urgency that is born from longing. If I cannot bow in prayer, I will bow with my heart. If I cannot stand in salah, I will stand in devotion in other ways.

Allah has not distanced me from Him—He has invited me to seek Him differently. And in that, I find a comfort that eases the ache. These nights are precious, and I will use them to call upon Him with all that I have, with all that I am. Because even when certain doors close, He always leaves another open.