Dear Beloved ﷺ,
This year, when it was difficult. Every time my heart faltered, I would imagine your grip ﷺ. You know when you hold onto someone’s hand tight enough that you can feel their pulse? Your constant and perfect pulse recharged me, helped me hold back tears when I had to be strong for those around me. I just repeated reassurance and glad tidings, with your anchoring voice on my mind, after you, like a conduit, much weaker than the transmitter. And you carried me and those I love through that moment. Every time.
Sayyidi, ﷺ, this year, by God’s grace, I was blessed with a daughter. When I carry her, I try to catch and hold on to anything I can add to my litany of prayers for her. And so I’ve been thinking about the prayers you must have made for me, her, and us all. Your daughters & sons. Surely, there was more to your prayer: ummati, ummati than meets the eye. In the ‘i’s is that we belong to you, and what a gift that is in its own right. In ‘ummah’ is your motherly love, and all that it embodies, or does motherly love rather cloak itself in your attributes? In your prayer’s repetition is a persistent knock on heaven’s doors. No matter how much I care about anyone, or thing, you cared to care more.
(Ya man laysa bi’hubbi lah, bal bi hubbihi li a’lu)
Oh you by whose love for me, rather than my love for him I soar, keep us under your watchful and caring gaze, and when our own hearts get cold, keep us warm.