Awareness! What does it take?

Review No 1. of a Christian of Jewish ancestry, about a Muslim woman’s philosophy.

As always, a source of inspiration and encouragement. If you reach no one else in this world, ever, you reach me. And, you reach me just in the nick of time, when hope is diminishing in the struggle between good and bad in my own life.
And, not for your own sake, for fame or glory, but for the will of God, that maybe someone would listen and not be deceived.
I wanted to send this letter to my own family, but, with every word of God I uttered, my sister makes larger claims against my sanity, and whether I should be chemically restrained for my 'devotion' to God. My sister calls it delusions of grandeur. I never realized how badly she wanted to control.

Bismi Allah Arrahman Arraheem.

December 5, 2002

I am an Arab Muslim Woman living in America, but I am not any Arab Muslim woman living in America, I am Najat Mounir. I am not just an immigration case number to the people I live and interact with every day, I am a person; I am Zacharia’s mom. The providence brought me here from Las Vegas, as it brought me from Casablanca fourteen years ago to New York City. Had it not been so, my life would have been just another normal life, by human standards.

I was born in 1957 to a poor family of four children which grew poorer every year by one child until we became ten. When I turned sixteen my parents arranged marriage for me. It was to an illiterate man, a widower three times my age. I contested, objected, cried, screamed, and even tried to commit suicide, but there was no escaping the ordeal.
At the end of the school year nine months later, I left the Castle where my husband worked as a Maitre D'hotel, located at about 90 kilometers from Paris, never to return to it again. I tricked him to fly me back home a month earlier than his vacation time. I assured him that I had matured, and understood that a woman’s place is in her husband’s home, and that love comes years after the marriage.
Once back in Casablanca I threatened to kill him or kill myself if he does not set me free. He knew I was serious. I had demonstrated my hate and my resentment of him for the nine months we lived under the same roof. I had my underwear torn to shreds as a result of my rejection of him.

I had my freedom back, but knew very little of what was awaiting me at the end of that tunnel. I had fallen from grace automatically with a divorce and became used-goods, good enough to try, but never to take home.
I became Satan’s bait, his lure for married men.

One year after my divorce I graduated high school and went back to France to attend College, and to lick my new wound. The parents of the man I liked and wanted to marry rejected me because their son was a bachelor, and I, no longer a virgin.

In Nimes I met a man who swept me off my feet, but was never there to catch me on the rebound. I fell a little deeper into Satan’s pit.
I turned twenty-one in May, while in Versailles, and had my Oussama in the month of July. Poor baby! His father and I left him behind for one whole month, and went to work the Vendanges (Grape Picking) season in the Camargue. We wanted to generate enough money to go back home to marry, officially, and celebrate the birth of our son. Two months later we separated. Oussama was then five months old.
I was a single mother before I turned twenty-two.

I had dropped out of College right after the registration, and had no particular skill to support my child. I had no affluence, and no money for bribery. I had but the flesh around my bones to barter with with employers. For years I was someone’s other woman, which allowed me luxuries I could not afford otherwise. My body had lost its sanctity when a family court judge had made the price to have and to hold my five months old baby, a one-night stand.

I believed it was all God’s fault, and turned my face away. Eleven years of debauchery had reinforced my belief and took me further away, and deeper into sin.
“Après moi, le deluge.” became my attitude. It translates into “After me, the Flood.”
I never thought of the wife at home with the children while her husband was with me. I never thought that the money he was spending on me was rightfully theirs. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness I had created; I never sought the light. However, eleven years of prejudice, ostracism, injustice, gossip, slander, and the whole array of thoughts, deeds, and feelings of the self-righteous around me were all I could take before I fled for my sanity.

I promised my son I will come back soon to take him with me to America. I was thinking a year or two before I had our future secured. I kissed him goodbye for the last time, fourteen years ago.
Although my original destination when I decided to leave Morocco was Australia; as an airport worker, I was given a ticket to New York City instead.
“American Dream, Here I come!" I thought to myself, thinking I had left the curse and all of my demons behind, I was wrong. I had brought all of them with me, then acquired some more while in New York.
My misperception of freedom, and my ignorance caused my bankruptcy on all levels.
Four years after my departure, my son became orphan for the third time. My mother had contracted cancer and passed away.

The news was kept secret from me for six months. It was my mother's last wish, on her deathbed.

On the sixth floor of my Astoria Queens’ apartment in New York City, I heard the news for the first time, from family friends who were strangers to me. Only then, did I perceive the vanity of my life. For a week, I locked myself up in my house and cried, and cried, and cried some more. Soon after I'd run out I’d have more tears streaming down my cheeks.

Why God Why? Why me?

I received no answer, yet from that point on things would never be the same.
I made my peace and asked God for forgiveness. I asked him to never let go of me again, no matter how much I pull away, but to direct my steps instead.
I had gone too far to be able to make 180% turn and go from wicked to righteous instantly. My lessons were still yet to be learned. I was born again at that moment and given a second chance.
I mourned my mother's death wearing a veil for four months. I started praying, and tried to limit my transgressions to the ‘necessary ones only’, but after that, I cracked. It was so hard to be good. The world, its responsibilities, and its distractions were overwhelming.
But just when I gave up, a miracle happened.
July 4th of the year 1995 found me in Las Vegas.

My plans were as clear as crystal in my mind. I was going to get a job as a Cocktail Waitress. They make good money, I thought. Who knows, I might even meet someone interesting, and settle down.
Although the resume I had prepared for the occasion highlighted my knowledge of the Culinary Industry, I got a job in an Art Gallery instead.
At that moment in time, I had not the slighest clue that I would triumph, with God's help and direction, over Satan on his own territory. In Sin City, there were many paths I could have gone.

The first two and half years in Las Vegas were the most rewarding years of my life. I regained self-esteem. My dignity as a human being was restored to me. I worked and excelled among my peers upon my own merits and my social skills, not upon the flesh beneath my skin. The nightmares of the past had become history. I thought I was out of the waters and life was smiling on me. I had no idea.
During those years I met the two people who would make the most impact on my life, two complete strangers, one from Australia, the other from Persia. Like me, Pamela, and Hossein's life's events had brought them to Las Vegas, only under different circumstances.
Pamela and Hossein could not be more opposite to one another yet, in my case, they have been the single thread that helped change my destiny.

Pamela is my kindred, my soul sister if you would. She is truly the Queen of hearts in my opinion. I met her when I started working for the "Bernard K. Passman" Gallery, in the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace. She was one of the pioneer crew since the Gallery's first inauguration. The Artist had started in the Caribbean, and had another Gallery in St. Thomas.

Pamela and I soon discovered we shared more than the same taste, and the same spiritual beliefs though we were from different religious background.
A month or two after we met, some events took place, and Mary (Pamela's roommate) was gone all of a sudden. Pamela and I, became roommates between a day an a night. We also discovered that we shared the same birthday. She is a friend, a sister, and a mother to me, the best anybody can have. She is an example of both humility, and royal character.
We shared broken dreams, and unrealized wishes.
She had lost her children Davy, and Jeanie in a custody battle some thirty years before. Two years after we met, she became my Zacharia's God Mother.

***********

I met Hossein through a common acquaintance, the extravagant Nadia. Nadia had entered our lives separately, for a relatively short period of time, and brought us together.

She met Hossein while visiting Las Vegas from Boston, at "Le Marrakech", a Moroccan Restaurant.
I would never have met him otherwise.
Hossein came to America during the year 1968, or 1969, around the Woodstock Era. He had left the rigid Muslim environment of his family for a place where all was permitted without the least inhibition.
Sometimes God lets Satan carry on his dirty deed, and then uses it to a good end.
When we first met, Hossein and I each had our own plan, and an idea of what we were looking for. For me it was financial security. Hossein was simply looking for the stability he lost when he was taken away from his biological mother, at eighteen months of age.
He invited me to dinner, and I accepted eagerly.
I knew right away that he had some emotional, and psychological issues, but realized only five months later, their extent. His trust in women was forever shattered, resulting in three failed marriages.
It became clear to me that we could not be involved romantically. Still, I thought I could somehow break his curse and his spell. Out of compassion I remained his friend.
When I confessed to him that I broke my vow of celibacy after seven months, and was three months pregnant by a married man, I expected an explosion knowing how jealous he was. What I got instead was the salve to my wounded heart. He gave me unparalleled support and comfort.
He relieved the discomfort of being on my legs all day long at work, by rubbing my swollen feet every time I stopped to visit him.
Between Pamela and him I had all the comfort any pregnant woman would need. I had a Mother and a father at my side. I had a brother and a sister all at once.

Michael was the embodiment of everything I ever wanted in a man. For about a little over a year, we were good friends. I knew he was married.
The attraction between us grew stronger every day, and my will grew weaker. I prayed, confessed to God, and asked him for the help necessary to overcome temptation, but I didn’t have the patience to wait long enough. Zacharia was conceived.
"Dear God! Forgive me for what I have done, and don't let go of me" I would find myself saying while I cried from the deepest recesses of my heart.

For two months I didn't tell any one. By the third, I told Pamela, Hossein, and Michael. The news had different effects on each one of them. At first, Pamela saw the coming baby as a disruption of our life style. Michael of course did not want a child he could not father, but Hossein knew the baby would change me life, and encouraged me.
As far as I was concerned, I had just committed one major sin. I wasn’t going to commit another one by having an abortion.

Michael and I separated on good terms. I promised him I’ll be a good mother to his child, assume full responsibility, and never jeopardize his family's welfare, but five months after Zacharia was born, both Pamela and I had lost our jobs, our cars, and our apartment. We were on the street. Hossein was going to serve a sentence for a Telemarketing infraction.
Pamela was able to stay with friends while Zach and I lived in a shelter for eight months. The first month we moved to Pamela's newly acquired apartment, she met Jerry, a single Dad with two children ages ten and twelve. The second month we were all living together in a two-bedroom apartment.
When Zacharia entered his toddler years, to Pamela and me, tolerance, and patience came naturally, but for Jerry and the boys it was a different story.
During the eight months we spent a M.A.S.H, I met Dan and Lynn.
Dan, and Lynn were another example of incompatibility, yet, each of them was crucial to the fulfillment of God's plan for my destiny.

Zacharia and I lived with Pamela, Jerry, and the boys for one year, before I took position as a living nanny for Dan's six year old daughter.
I have not heard from Lynn who had relocated to another state, until about a year and a half later when I was looking for another living nanny position. Dan's older daughter Jenny, who was living with her aunt in California, decided to come back to live with her dad, and her sister. The one bedroom trailer then became too small for all of us. I decided to move on.
Lynn was all of sudden back in my life. She suggested that I should visit her in Washington where she had settled with her teenage son David.
She convinced me with her description of the Gorge.
How can I doubt God’s plan and the fact that only He is in control. At times like these when Arabs and Muslims in general are targets of hate crimes my son and I are targets of love, compassion, protection, and the support of our community?

In Stevenson, at the feet of the Pine and the Fir tree; at the feet of majestic mountains; and beside the still waters of the mighty Columbia; among the complete strangers who became my brothers and sisters, and became my family; I know I am in God’s hand, and know that all is well, and will be well at the end, when it's all said and done.
I no longer take God's blessings for granted, nor do I ignore the little things which when recognized and appreciated brighten up my days, such as this one.

Norma is a woman I met through my friend and neighbor Rebecca. Rebecca moved away, but Norma still stops by and visits with me from time to time. She called around ten thirty this morning and asked if she could come by for a short while. I had just taken my blueberry muffins out of the oven when she knocked on the door. I was still in my pajamas, a bed-head, and my puffy face. We had muffins and coffee while we talked. She came by to show me a picture of Rebecca in front of her new house. We both thanked God for Rebecca's improved health conditions, and marveled at how good she looked on the picture. Our brief chat ended, and as she stood up to leave, she pulled out what looked like a pamphlet of some sort. She handed it to me saying.

“This is the phone card my daughter picked up at COSCO. I know you said you’d be able to get it next month, but here, have it. Merry Christmas.” She said as she put it in my hands. I was speechless with emotion. I could also detect tears in her eyes when she gave me a hug.
It was the next day after the holiday, (Aid Al Fitr) in Morocco. I knew that my brother would still be at my father’s house in Casablanca.
If I call his cell phone, I can speak to Oussama, and talk to him about the message he left on my answering machine two days ago. The only message, in about a year.

“Najat! Najat!” he said, instead of the usual “Mama! Mama!”
“This is Oussama! Do you remember Oussama?” he continued. Every syllable was a blow to my heart.
“Hum!” was the end of the message. I know how much he hurts.

The Phone Card of forty-minute long distance time was indeed a blessing, and a miracle considering the circumstances surrounding it.

I spoke to my father for the first time in about seven years. I spoke to my brothers, their wives I have never seen, and spoke to my child. We prayed together, and I asked him to pray for me.
"God hears the brokenhearted ‘s prayer,” I said.

“I want you to know, baby, that I am only human, therefore liable to fail you. But there is someone you not only need to turn to, but must. He is the one who matters most, and all your love you should give to Him. He will never forsake you, or be too busy, too powerless, or too distracted to help you when you need it most.” I told my son before the card expired. I called Norma right away after I said a prayer of thanks to the Lord, to thank her for being a vessel for a blessing.
I wanted her to know the magnitude of her gift. I wanted her to share the happiness it had procured to many, here, and in a distant land. I wanted her to expect and see how God was going to reward her.
I experience blessings that are beyond anyone's imagination. Those very blessings keep me going when the going gets tough, and they are all delivered through people of all nations, who are willing to be God’s vessels. I am unable to name all of them here, but for each and every one of them I am thankful to God. He fulfilled my dream and gave me more than I have ever wished for when I originally came to America. He gave me true wealth, true power, and most of all, He introduced me to his family of people from all walks of life, the people of this blessed land.
Here I am treated as a human being in my community among God’s people. I am not a case file, a statistic, or a number. I am not looked upon as a stranger, a foreigner, or a terrorist either. Instead of the image of a stranger Arab Muslim woman, people here know me as the Arab Muslim woman who is Zacharia’s mom. Here people know me on a personal degree, my house is theirs, as their house is mine. They know who I am because I am an open book and have only God to fear. They know about my immigration status and offered to help any way they can. They know about my estrangement from my family back home in Casablanca, about my father’s health, and about my son who is still waiting for my return to take him with me. They comfort me and help me with prayers. We all know that God’s Will, be done, sooner or later.
It is the unusual aspect of the path my life took, that had allowed all the extraordinary events that took place during the journey. It is my ability to communicate with people on a spiritual level, and the fact that I shared in their joy, pain, and dreams, that had allowed me to find out that we are all the same.

Because of the special understanding of this community, because of the peace of mind it affords me, and the willingness of its members to be God’s vessels of blessings to one another despite the difference in skin color, culture, ethnic background, creed, and religion, I find myself pondering the following questions:
If it works here in Stevenson, why don’t we adopt it universally?
Are not individuals the fabric of any and every society, and even of mankind's race, in general?

*************

This is my third attempt to write the same thing in two nights. Last night I started writing around eleven. Zacharia had a nightmare and woke up around four. After I tended to him, and helped him go back to sleep I got back to my computer. The window was closed, and I had lost everything I wrote for about six hours. I wrote pretty much the same thing again, and saved it before I went to bed when I could no longer keep my eyes open.
Tonight I looked in every folder, and in every document, but could not find the text I typed twice the night before. It was very odd, but all for the best. The events that took place since, have shed a new light on the whole issue, and the whole problem I have been struggling with for the last five years suddenly became clear.

I feel the calling, and consider it is my duty to write such a thing as this writing, which I cannot fit in any category. It is an autobiography, yet the antagonist is not I, but me. It is a philosophical reflection on the path through which life took me. It’s an eyewitness account to human nature at play, based in several different backgrounds, ethnicities, languages, and religions. It is my synthesis regarding the purpose of life on this earth, for each one of us.
Yes! It may sound arrogant on my part to make such a claim, but it does not take a genius, a scholar, or a rocket scientist to understand it, really. God loves the retarded, and the mentally ill as well, and allow them access to His grace.
We have simply been looking for the answer in all the wrong places. I understood that since I submitted to God, and surrendered to His Will, in my Astoria Queens' apartment on the last floor of an old Building, in New York City.
This writing was inspired by love for mankind, few years ago, and ignited since September 11 of the year 2001.
Many will think I am preaching, and they may be right. But I am only preaching to those who are willing to listen with anticipation and hope in finding a truth they too can relate to, and to those who are willing to investigate for themselves any potential clues liable to shed some light on the riddle that had eluded us all for billions of years.

For the last three nights, every time I watched the News, the topic was either Saddam Hussein, the eminent attack on Iraq, or Israel and Palestine going at each others throat, or other crimes perpetrated by human beings upon other human beings. I see the world ripping itself apart, and brothers killing brothers.
For the last three nights in a row, Satan tried to separate me from friends that have given a meaning to my life and my existence in this realm. He snuck up on us at the most opportune moment each time. I am a Muslim while most of them are Christians, but Satan does not discriminate. Every soul is as good as the next, as long as he gets them all.
Have you ever done something bad, then regretted it right away?
Have you ever experienced the sweetness of good deeds, and the bliss of forgiveness?
If you have experienced either of these events, then you know what it is like to serve God, and what it is like to serve Satan. We can only serve one Master, at a time.
As I think about the state of affaires around the world, I can clearly see Satan’s handprint on every ill-conceived thought, and deed, as well as on the personal aspect of everyone’s life as on the collective one, whether it be household, city, state, country, or continent. Satan’s mark on it is incrusted and indelible.

When I contemplate my personal trials, and pain, and measure them to the trials, and pain of the world, I find that they are the same, as trials and pain are fetl on an individual level.
The solution to mankind's problem should therefore be individually devised. The relief of mankind as a race, would occure only when each individual is individually cured.
It is my conviction that once we apply what the prophets, messengers, and God's word told us, our universal problems will fade away and disappear. If we treat others, all others, the same way we want to be treated, then we can say we have won the battle against Satan.
It is also my conviction that our major problems stem from the fact that we cannot efficiently communicate and interact with one another, because of misconception, misinformation, and prejudgment. We all live with preconceived ideas about one another, and fear generating speculations.

As if we didn’t have enough blind spots already blocking our field of vision, we add on the mass mind, and submit our will and destiny to a nonexistent entity. When our acts, and decisions are based in the contest of an environment, rather than on the knowledge in our heart, we are likely to commit a transgression. If we tolerate, accept, or encourage a wrongdoing just because everyone else is doing it, we might be committing a sin. If during a riot that gets out of hand, we end up looting, or killing a soul, we have without a doubt, committed a sin, even if the misdeed was on the spur of the moment.

Certain events in particular, have ignated my
desire to hone this writing, and present it to all, to read.
The first was an incident that took place at my friend's house.
I picked Zacharia up from school at three. We walked to the Bakery to inquire about a day-old donut deal. We got to Lynn’s few minutes after four.
As soon as we entered the door, Zach mentioned how long the walk was, and how cold was the weather. Lynn answered: ”I walked it with an pneumonia, just tow days ago."
I could feel the tension mounting.
Zacharia asked Linda to turn up the volume on the TV. She did, and decided she wasn’t going to consent or grant him any more wishes. After a short while he started getting bored, and wanted to go play outside. He was heading for the door, without coat, and without shoes, in a windshield factor of about thirty degrees Fahrenheit. Lynn told him he would have to bundle up before he can go outside. I knew his intentions, and told him the trampoline was off-limit, and out of question. When Lynn validated that he then started looking around for something else to do. The Play Station console was beckoning to him. I asked Lynn if she would set up one of his games that we brought with us. Before I even finished my sentence she was outraged and frustrated.

“I am not going to be jumping up and down for him, like you do. He is in my house, he got to live by my rules.” She said. It was pure power struggle between a forty some years old, and a five year old boy.
When the tension started to heat up I told my son to put his coat and shoes on.
"We are going home!" I said.
Things could have easily ended there, and Lynn and I would have stopped seen or talking to one another for another four or five months, as we did three times already, within the last two years, since we have been in Washington.
I looked Lynn in the eyes and reminded her of Zach’s age, his attention span, and brought her to think of Zach as her son David when he was that age. I added that I came to visit her because I promised to do so the day before, and that I was looking forward to a good quality time for friendship sake, but I was not going to make my son miserable in the process.
Somehow, Lynn all of a sudden relaxed and agreed to let him play a video game. It was then about four thirty in the afternoon. We didn’t leave her house until about nine thirty. We had the most wonderful time. What I learned during those hours is beyond description.

The next day something else happened. This time it was with my friend and neighbor, Pamela.
Barbara was at Pam's house when I went to visit with her. For about an hour or so, every topic of our conversation revolved around God, his grace, and his mercy. Barbara left. Pam and I continued for a while, before the conversation took a sudden turn.

“There is nothing you can say or do, that would dissuade me from believing that Jesus is the Son of God, and that he died for our sins.” She said, angrily.
“I told my mother about you, about the wonderful time we spent together in fellowship. I told her you shared some of the Qur’an with me, and how beautiful it sounds, but when you attack my belief and my faith, I cannot tolerate or allow it” she added.

I was speechless for a moment, and dumfounded.
"Where did this come from?" I tried to understand.
Obviously I have gotten carried away, and my voice was becoming too loud for Pam's taste. She felt attacked, and aggressed. She was ready to rebuke anything I said.
"Oh my God!" I thought, "How could I have come across as an aggressor and a terrorist, in promoting a message of serenity and peace?
I apologized and reassured Pamela of my true intention.
“I am sorry for being loud and for offending you by doing so, all I was trying to do is debate a point, logically, by using reason. I thought you and I have special understanding of what it means to be with God and serve only Him. I know that when you and I are talking about God, we are talking about the only One God there is.
I thought we did not need to keep taboo a point that obviously stands as a beacon between us, and needs debating and clarification. I long to bring down the wall that stands between Jews, Muslim, and Christians. I long to find a common ground.” I told Pam, while she was acquiescing with her head.
I longed to convey my point to her and let her draw her own conclusion. I managed to keep my excitement in check, and kept my voice down to a murmur. We continued our debate.
"To procreate, in the sense we procreate, biologically, do you not have to have two opposite parts, a male and a female?" I asked.
"Can either part procreate without the other?" I added for full understanding of the process of procreation.
The answer to the first question is "Yes!" You do have to have a male and a female to procreate.
To the second question the answer is obviously, "No" Neither of the parts can procreate by itself.
"Are you then saying that God copulated with Mary in order to bring forth Jesus?
If your answer is "No", then it is not procreation that we are talking about in the case of Jesus, but creation. And that which is created is not begotten.
"Is God not whole and needs naught?"
"Does He not only need say, “Be”, for whatever it is He wants done, to be?" Saying he procreates, would be telling a lie, in my view.

In my opinion, Jesus is someone who accepted his mission. It is the greatest act for one to show how much they love God, and how much they love the rest of His creation and respect it, out of their love for Him.
How much more precious can Jesus be? He is the expression of God’s love for mankind. Of course, he is the way, the life, and the truth. Only love saves.

Nothing else but love can avail us in our earthly battle with the invisible forces of darkness and hate. Nothing else but love keeps a parent attached to their child, and a child to their parents.

If we agree that God did not beget Jesus in the biological way parents beget children, then we agree. What we disagree upon, is Jesus as an individual entity. As far as my knowledge of him goes, he was in the womb for nine months, then grew up to be thirty, before he started his ministry, and his mission. He was in human flesh all this time. Can you even begin to imagine what would happen in the universe, if God were not in control for any amount if time?
Don't you think that in less than a blink of an eye any thing can happen, and that the probabilities are innumerable given our humanly limitations?

I thought about the alternative in both cases that took place the last two nights. If Linda had not reconsidered and conceded to common sense, I would not have seen her again for four or five months or maybe ever. As for Pam, I could have gotten infuriated by her remarks, and took it as an aggression against me personally. I could have said the same thing I said, after Rose’s incident.

**********

If Lynn, Pam, and I, have been able to overcome Satan’s vicious attacks on our fellowship, so can the whole world, without exception. This can only be accomplished if we are wise enough to think before we act.
Satan will get in, and out of our brain, when we have God in our heart. If only we remember to forget our ego, and busy ourselves with our sole mission and purpose, to love God back.
What have we been fighting about since our first creation? Is it not, to prove that “We” are right, and everyone else is wrong?
In our zeal, we try to correct one another, and even try to do God’s job. Excuse me! With such an attitude, we are going nowhere fast, except to self-destruction. God will still be God after we are long gone, unchanged, and unchangeable

********

All of our problems stem from within. We are our worst enemy. If we can only get rid of selfishness, we can rest assured that we have won the battle. Selfishness is Satan’s trait. He was the first to say: “I am better than he” When Adam was shaped in clay. God’s trait is, unconditional love.

Some of mankind, over time will realize what life is all about, and that death, is but a transition. Most religious people believe in the Day of Judgment, Muslim, Jews, and Christians, let us then all focus on our own actions, upon which we will be judged.

I read an item just recently, where the authors exhorts Christians, and reminds them of Christ's way. Addressing the Muslim Nation, I want to do the same. I'd like to tell them to go back to the Qur'an, and to the Sunnah, and start their self-examination, under both's light.

Alas! With each religion, there is a culmination of the rate of believers, then a decline when things revert to what they were like before, decline on most levels. In my opinion, it starts at the time when the civilization in question starts separating God from everyday life, and call its lifestyle secular, or more anticipated.
What I don’t understand is, here we are, all claiming to be righteous, and defending God’s cause, yet none of us has been spending time with Him. If we do not call upon Him when we are overwhelmed, confused, scared, anxious, and lonely, when then do we spend time with Him?

The saints can pray all they want, for the sake of the ignorant, the fact stays, that with today’s leap in advanced technology, science, and other fields of knowledge, we have no excuse to remain ignorant.
We are nearing the final test, I would say, if I was to compare our journey on earth, to scholarly education.
Ignorance can be considered a bliss by certain people, but let them remember it’s only until a time. The time accorded by God to Satan to prove his cause, and to Adam, Eve, and their progeny the chance to prove Satan wrong by learning from experience.
God told Satan: knock yourself out, and mess with them all you want, those who follow you are not mine, but over those who are mine, you have no power.
He then told man: “Use everything I gave you, with wisdom, common sense, and reason.
Know that I am only a call away, if you ever need me. I will not laugh at you. I will not take pleasure in your failure. I will not turn away, nor will I put you down. Just come, as you are.”
“Because you ate of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good, and evil, good and evil, by experience then you shall know, then, you have to make your own decision as to which you want to serve for eternal time.I gave you free will for that very purpose. If you choose destruction over salvation, it is your prerogative.”
“When your heart aches with pain and desperation, humble yourself and admit you do not know everything, so that you may learn.”
“Believe I am here, and here I am.”
God gave us directions to overcome the gravity of this physical world on our soul. When we have him in our heart, we float above the worldly turmoil much easier. We give all our worries and cares to him. If he cannot fix them, no one can. So why worry?

All our problems spring from lack of trust in God’s capability. We have a hard time comprehending that God is capable of handling all things, everywhere, at the same time, including our puny little problems, though we all claim to know Him as Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnipresent. What’s up with that?

If Jesus’ presence on earth is to help us in any way, it has to be spiritually based. It has nothing to do with the manifestation in the flesh. The body was just the mean to bring love to us, in a tangible, and palpable manner. The important is the content not the container.

When Jesus addressed his people, he said follow me, and learn what I teach. You will not get to the Father except through me. He was only doing what anyone else with only a fraction of his devotion, and his understanding, would have done.

If God chooses you to deliver a message to the world and teach his way, what would do? What would you say to address the world? How will you make them follow you, except by inviting them?

We quarrel about Jesus, but only those who emulate his behavior are worthy of him.

Would you be able to turn the other cheek, and pray for those who persecute, humiliate, ridicule, mock, and torture you?

Would you forgive seventy seven times seven?

Would share you last bite?

Would you wash the feet of those who are beneath you?

He is unconditional love, can you ever be?

He told us, to do unto others as we want done unto us. Yet how many Christians are planting the seed?
How many Jews? How many Muslims? Are doing the same, since the same was, is, and will be, as Jesus said. God loved us in the beginning. He loves us now, and will love us forever, no matter what happens. Yet, a parent may have to stand and watch their children sometimes leave the nest so that the rest of the household may live in peace, and harmony, if those required to leave were disruptive, or disobedient.

How can we see any religion as a mean to salvation, and forget it to apply it to our life?

How can we separate the secular life from the religious one, when religion is but messages sent to people who were too secular and forgot God?

What is religion but a map to navigate this world of distraction, and to sail to safe shores?

God sent the revelation to Noah. Boy! Was he teased, mocked, and even harassed, but he stayed steadfast. He survived the flood along with those who followed him.

God reach out again to mankind, through Moses. He liberated the weak from slavery, and oppression, and drowned the tyrants

God, by tangible deeds showed us the way. God never told us: “come to me before anyone else does, at the detriment of others.” but said, “help one another, to get to me. And accept help and invitation to be led.” A wise man learns from every situation.

Mohammad was the facilitator to the Qur’an, and before you judge the Qur’an, you owe it to yourself to read it. It would be backbiting, blasphemy, and slander, otherwise.

All throughout our journey God has been sending us direction, but human nature aided by Satan, stands in the way. What was meant to be one and the same, now stands divided.

Without God’s intervention, Satan could be succeeding. My own child turned around and told me recently:

“I am American, aren’t I mom?”

“Yes! Sweetheart, you are.” I said.

“I love the flag.” He said as he played with the little flag is his hands.

“I love the colors.” He added. Then it came out like a ball of fire, straight to my heart:

“I will defend it. I will kill you, for the flag.” He said, so unexpectedly. He caused me to shift in my seat.

“Why Sweetheart! Do you know why people defend the flag?”

“Why?” he said.

“Because it represents family values, love, righteousness, and goodness. It represents your parents, and your loved ones. Would you kill me for the sake of the cloth itself?

He immediately apologized, and the matter was forgotten in seconds, but it made me wonder, what messages are we giving our children besides encouraging them to be killing machines.

To go back to my conversation with Pam, I urged her to share her life journey with all those earnestly seeking the face of God. Through rejection, neglect, abuse, and rape, she came out stronger, and her faith increased.

“Without God in my life, I would have committed suicide a long, long, long time ago.” She told me. The same way feels Margie, my sweet Christian friend, of Jewish descent.

Margie is sweetness all around, even when she is hurting. Sharing my perception of God with her reinforces my conviction every time we get together. Like the rest of our small neighborly group of believers, she too, was faced with her own people’s rejection, and rebuke.

What is life but a persecutor and a persecuted in a fair trial? “Whatever you sow that too you shall reap.” Goes the wise saying.

Of course, not every person in Stevenson is perfect. Satan still tempts us several times a day. Perfection won’t take place, until the devil is out of the picture.

Our Drama, the drama that is taking place in small towns around the world, in every family, and every neighborhood, is what makes history. Every thing that has ever been done and accomplished was done in a present, that moment eternal where all is possible with the freedom to express our will, and our birthright.

No one can ignore the state of current affaires around the world. None can deny Satan’s spell on mankind, through money, sex, and power, the causes behind every crime.

Our problem is that we do not pause long enough to listen to our inner voice, in times of need. We are compulsive by nature, and limited by our earthly five senses. True Jihad, said the Prophet, is to overcome the enemy within.
When we do that, we become able to bypass the earthly realm.

I guess what I am trying to say is, that you, you, you, and me, are all one and the same.

And if the message has always been the same: “Love the Lord your God, Worship only him, -the meaning behind the word monotheist-, and love your neighbor as you love yourself.” By all means, let us do just that. What are we really fighting about?

We have to beware constantly, of Satan and his army, but most of all; we have to trust God, against all odds. It is patience, perseverance, endurance that makes the difference, between those who have God, and those who have him not.

Our life is a series of events, intrinsic, and forever intertwined. God works on the big picture, with many people involved, simultaneously.

I remember standing across the street from a Manhattan Night Club, few minutes before it opened its door. I remember how I got offended, and laughed at the man holding a sign, with inscriptions such as: “Beware! He comes quickly.”
“Why don’t you just make sure you are saved? Give the others the right to make their own choice?”

In tears, sobs, and excruciating pain and heartache I did, several months later. I knew then, whom I waned to serve for eternity. It was God. Thanks, be to God.

Prior to that moment, and for almost two decades, I had danced every forbidden tango I was led into by the seducer of mankind. I danced every step with wit, and application. But in a blink of an eye God forgives, and gives us a chance anew, why can’t we do that for one another?

In this item I also want to bring into focus, my current status. Although I am the sole parent and guardian of an American minor child, I am allowed to earn a living in this country. How can I then provide for my child and for myself?

How can any man allow, or put limits and restrictions for a mother to be with her child?
Is not the Earth, and every square inch of it God’s? Why can’t we live anywhere our soul chooses?
Why can’t I live where I please, and where my heart feels at home?

Why don’t you give me a chance to prove my commitment to this land, and earn the privilege to defend its constitution with my life? I will earn the right to true and complete freedom by honoring God through service to humanity. As credentials, my neighbors and my friends all throughout the United States can testify on my behalf.

I believe Immigration laws should be revised and adjusted. I believe any person should be allowed to apply. I believe communities should be able to have a say so, in admitting foreigners into their neighborhoods.
I believe every case should be taken on a person-by-person basis, not case number by case number, and not based upon race, color, religion, or gender.
Without the bond we can have with others, God’s blessings would not reach us, since we keep breaking the vessel that carries the blessing.

I believe I know what is my calling. I believe I can only accomplish it from here, of course I could be wrong, but I would like to stay and live here in Stevenson, in America, rather than to go back to Morocco, and subjugate my five year old to the same dilemma his older brother and I had shared in childhood.

Arabic is my first language, in it, I can easily communicate with the Arab world, to let them know what America is about, and change the picture the terrorists have painted for them.
I feel sometime as if I live an inter-dimensional life, where past, present, and future, are all one. I feel as one who suddenly awoke, and with a sigh of relief praised the Lord it was but, a nightmare, a video game in virtual reality, but not reality itself.

It is easy for me now to perceive, based on the small earthly limited scale, what is taking place simultaneously on the bigger picture. God, with his grace allows me to see the continuum of what was, what is, and what is yet to be. It all is, all at once, and that’s how it is, to be with God.

I can manifestly see Satan’s attempts on my peace of mind, serenity, and joy, personally. I can also see his handprints on every global catastrophe, and carnage.

The fact that Christian Sisters and Brothers, here in America helped me find the God I turned my face away from, in Casablanca, making it possible for me to surrender to his will, with ease, because of their love, acceptance, and understanding. Something I had not experienced in thirty-eight years, in a Muslim Country, where very few are true Muslims.

One does not need be called anything at all, to know and be with him. They can feel God, in their heart.

As a witness I will denounce wickedness and wrongdoing, even in my own self and my own flesh and blood, if ungodliness is their nature and state of being. IF there are not God’s neither are they mine, for obvious reasons.

It pains me to see how oblivious we all are to what is most important, the salvation of our soul in the hereafter. This writing is for those who fear God, and fear a day where no excuses will be accepted any more. As for those who would rather continue the game, let me just remind them, that when the playground closes, it might be too late to go home.