Tag: grace Allah revert Islam

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Knowledge may fill the mind.

But wisdom shapes the soul.

A Reflection for My Fellow Revert Sisters

Sometimes, as reverts, we feel small in comparison to those who seem to know everything about Islam — who can recite the Qur’an flawlessly, quote hadith by heart, and remember every lesson. We may worry that our journey is incomplete, that our understanding is lacking.

But the truth is, the beauty of this path is not measured by memory or perfection. It is measured by the depth of our hearts, the sincerity of our reflection, and the way the Qur’an takes root within us.

With this in mind, I want to share a letter to my fellow revert sisters — a reminder that wisdom is found in the heart, and that your connection to Allah is unique, precious, and enough.

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A Letter to My Fellow Revert Sisters

My dear sisters,

There is something I want to share with you, especially for those of us who came to Islam later in life. Many of us carry a quiet worry in our hearts: “I don’t know enough. I can’t remember enough. I’ll never catch up to those who were born into this faith.”

I want you to pause here, take a breath, and let me tell you — you are not less. Not in the sight of Allah. Not in the value of your journey. Not in the weight of your worship.

There is a difference between reading to gain knowledge and reading to gain wisdom. Knowledge is about remembering facts, recalling names, and reciting details. It makes a person seem knowledgeable, and there is goodness in that — but it is not the full picture.

Wisdom is something gentler, deeper. It is not measured by what the mind can store, but by what the heart can hold. It is not about carrying every verse in memory, but about letting even a single verse move you, shape you, and become part of your soul.

As reverts, we do not need to compare ourselves to those who can recite the Qur’an from beginning to end without stumbling or pausing for breath. That is their gift, and it is beautiful. But your gift may be different — and it is no less. You are not any less than somebody who can recite the Qur’an from beginning to end without taking a breath. What matters most is to understand the Qur’an in the same way you feel your heartbeat — constant, alive, and within you.

The Qur’an itself reminds us:

“None will grasp its meaning except those firmly grounded in knowledge.” (3:7)

And Imam Ali (as) taught us:

“Knowledge is of two kinds: what is heard and what is practiced. That which is heard does not profit if it is not practiced, but that which is practiced is knowledge indeed.” (Nahj al-Balaghah, Saying 366)

So let this bring peace to your heart. Do not measure your worth by what you can recall on command, but by how sincerely you live what you have understood. One verse lived is greater than a hundred verses recited without reflection.

For some, knowledge is stored in libraries of memory. For others — especially those who cannot retain details easily — wisdom is carried in a different way. It is carried in the heart, in the quiet understanding that stays with you long after the words have faded.

Knowledge may fill the mind.

But wisdom — wisdom shapes the soul.

With love and solidarity,

From one revert sister to another

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Duʿa

O Allah, make us among those who are firmly grounded in knowledge,

those who live the Qur’an with sincerity,

who practice what they understand,

and who carry Your words in their hearts

as steadily as the beating of their own hearts.

Āmeen.

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Art is a soul’s surrender to Allah—a dance of sabr and tawakkul.

Art is the purest expression of the soul. It doesn’t have to be perfect, and you don’t need to have everything planned when you start—only Allah in your heart. This morning, after a really tough week of struggling, I woke up feeling divinely guided to create. I don’t know where this piece will go or what the end result will be, but every time I stand at my table with the Qur’an softly playing in the background, I know I am being gently led. Whatever this art is meant to teach me will become clear when it’s complete.

I’m especially pleased that I’m using texture in this piece—texture gives the work depth, dimension, and complexity, just like in life and in Islam. Texture reminds me that things aren’t always smooth or simple; there are layers to our faith and to our experiences that add richness and meaning. Just as a textured canvas invites us to see beyond the surface, Islam invites us to look deeper, to turn back again and again, to reflect and adjust our path.

The journey in Islam is much like creating art. It’s not about perfection, but about returning, making small shifts, stepping back to see the bigger picture, then moving forward with renewed intention. Allah says, “Indeed, with hardship comes ease” (Qur’an 94:6), and Rumi beautifully reminds us, “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” The lessons, like the layers of texture, reveal themselves in time, if we trust and surrender.

Standing at my table, I feel that same sacred dance of patience and surrender—the journey of faith and creation unfolding hand in hand, with Allah as the ultimate Artist guiding every stroke.

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Space For Grace

From One Sister to Another

When we first find Islam, the joy can be so overwhelming that it feels as if our heart might burst with light. The tears, the peace, the relief—it’s unlike anything else. But then, sometimes quietly and unexpectedly, the feeling shifts. The light feels dimmer, the joy feels heavier, and a voice inside whispers, What have I done?

This is something we don’t talk about enough. Maybe because many Muslims born into the faith can’t fully understand what it’s like to have to change everything—the way we walk, talk, think, dress, and live—almost overnight. For us reverts, the transformation is monumental. And while our Shahada marks the most beautiful moment of our lives, it is not the finish line. It is the starting point.

Yet too often, instead of gentle hands guiding us, we meet pointed fingers correcting us. Mistakes are met with judgment rather than patience. The space for grace feels too small, when in truth, it should be vast and wide enough for every single step of our journey.

I’ve seen sisters lately speak of wanting to take off their hijab, of feeling like they’ve jumped too far, too fast. As if they’ve been dropped into the deep ocean of Islam without a life raft. And I want to say to them: Dear sister, you are not just a drop in the ocean. The entire ocean is within you. (Rumi)

It’s natural to feel this lull. It’s natural to feel overwhelmed, even sad. But remember the words of the Qur’an:

      Allah is enough as a friend, and Allah is enough as a helper. 

                      Quran (4:45)

If you are feeling lost, hold on to that truth—your closest, most loyal companion is Allah Himself. And from me to you: my door is always open. I understand your struggles because I’ve been there—not once, but many times. I’m still learning. I’m still growing. I’m still striving to be a better Muslim.

You don’t have to know everything today. You don’t have to have it all perfect. You took your Shahada—that is your first step. Everything else will come in time, with patience, prayer, and the grace of Allah.

So, my dear sister, breathe.

You are exactly where Allah meant for you to be.

Every stumble is a step,

every tear is a prayer,

every moment you stay is a victory unseen.

You are not failing—you are unfolding.

And one day, you will look back and see

that Allah was carrying you all along,

gently, patiently, lovingly…

until you could stand,

lift your head,

and smile from the depths of your heart as you say—

Yes. I am Muslim.