Finding Faith

My parents were always fighting and sometimes even hurting me. I couldn't stand their loud voices swearing at each other and the broken items. Hence, I was taking additional lessons on purpose to avoid going home early. My body was shaking every time I approached the street I lived in.

One Friday, the extra classes were nullified and I had to find another way to waste my time. I decided to take another path that was longer than the usual one, and that I've never used before.

I noticed a lot of people going in the same direction. Most men were wearing long shirts and all the women had dresses with veils on their heads. They were all gathering in the same beautiful building that looked like a castle to me. It caught my interest so I thought that I could blend in with the crowd and try to go in.

I was right.

A few moments later, I entered the building and nobody said anything to me. I was enchanted by the majestic ornaments on the walls and on the ceiling; the aura, as well as the smell of this place was pleasant and calming. It felt strange since I never felt this comfortable within a crowd. I made sure to follow others: I entered from the first entrance that was apparently reserved for men only; I took off my shoes like everyone else and went into a spacious room. A man in the front was facing everybody else that was sitting there. He was telling something like a story but I couldn't really understand anything because he was switching languages every now and then. After a long while, all the men stood up and the one in the front started to recite something. His voice and the way he pronounced each sound gave me goosebumps and my heart squeezed. His voice kept vibrating throughout the hall and in my chest; and even in my ears for the next following hours.

The next day I wanted to return there. I usually just wander around in the neighborhood on the weekends to avoid fights with my parents. But now I had a place where I could spend my time. Strangely enough, there weren't as many people as yesterday. It was quite empty. I sat in the corner of the room and took a book that was on the bookshelves. I tried to read it but the words were too difficult for me to understand. Not a big deal, just sitting there was enough. It's nice to be in a place this tranquil; unlike my house. I didn't even notice how I fell asleep.

Someone woke me up. It was the same man with that beautiful voice from yesterday. He gently spoke to me and asked what I was doing here. At first I didn't want to tell him anything in fear that he'd ignore me like my teachers did; but something about him reassured me. Thus, I told him about my situation, showed my bruises and asked if I could stay here. He felt sorry for me and patted me on the head. He said that this place is a mosque, the house of God and anyone is welcome here at any time. This man introduced himself as the imam, the one who leads the prayers and whose duty is to share the religion with people. He offered me a brief explanation about his religion and I felt so implicated that I couldn't help but ask more and more questions. We talked for hours and the imam really liked my enthusiasm and said that I could become a muslim like him. I almost agreed right away but I felt like I shouldn't make such harsh decisions. I promised that I'll think about it as he nodded in validation of my choice.

I would still continue to go to the mosque, on rainy days, snowy days, sunny days...And each time they would wait for me at the entrance with open arms. The pleasant aura and people helped me to calm my mind after a bad day. Sometimes I could even spend nights there after a big fight with my parents. It became my second home. I learned a lot about islam and when I felt ready, I went to see the imam to say the shahada (the profession of Faith). He advised me to get my parent's permission first but I said that they would evidently be against it which will cause only more conflicts. But there were a lot of youngsters at the mosque who were muslims even though their parents never validated their choice. I knew that Allah, the one and only God would make things easier for me like he did for all those brothers around me.

Many years went by. I am now an adult and live separately from my parents. I heard that they got divorced and honestly, I think it's for the best. Of course I'm still on bad terms with them but islam has taught me patience and respect for my parents no matter how bad they are; they're the one who raised and gave birth to me after all, which is why I call them every few months just to know how they're doing.

Right now we're packing our luggages with my friends; we're going to do the Hajj (great pilgrimage) together . I'm really happy to be a muslim. I'm really thankful to Allah for guiding me on the right path. I don't know how my life would've turned out if I didn't enter the mosque that day.

I can't tell everything about islam just here due to its old roots and richness; it will simply not fit. I can only say that it's a very beautiful religion, that I still have a long way to go, and that if you're interested, you can search for yourself or ask the right individual. In any case, there will be people who will support you, and I'm one of them.

A/N:

That's the end of this story that randomly popped up in my head while I was sitting in the corner of the mosque almost crying because I was in a bad mood that day. Please, consider that this story is totally fictional and that I don't know any person with such a backstory in real life. Thank you for reading.

(written in July 2023)