When this fever leaves me, the shuddering thoughts will leave me too, if the Most Merciful wills. I will return to work, stand once more at the foot of that mountain of toil and begin to dig… to bring down the chaos of competing deadlines and tasks that intimidated me before this illness drove me away. The weeks will fly by with the workload that awaits me when I return.

But this love: as the Most Merciful wills, she is my companion, my soul mate, my truest friend. When beyond the realm of the video call, I resorted to raiding a box of photographs nearly forgotten in our digital age. I see her smile again and I feel relieved. We believe in the words of God without a doubt, for they came alive before our eyes:

“And among His Signs is that He created for you mates from among yourselves, that you may dwell in tranquility with them, and He put love and mercy between your hearts. Verily in that are Signs for those who reflect.” — Sûrah Rûm: 21

We were two strangers from different lands, different cultures, different tribes: and yet He brought us together and planted that seed in our hearts. Through marriage we have discovered worlds that neither of us knew existed. We have travelled far together, hand in hand, by each other’s side.

The years have changed us. I have lost my gaunt frame — thank God — my bony cheeks at last swathed in flab, my chin now disfigured by the sparse beard that continues to invite persistent ridicule. Standing before a mirror I no longer shy back repulsed, but look at myself reconciled to the decree of Allah. Life and experience shapes us, makes us what we are.

By the wonders of modern technology and the immense generosity of Allah, we set our eyes upon one another this afternoon — and I on two other gifts from God, our Ramadan babies, oh how I love them too. What a relief, what joy. May the Eternally Generous, the Most Merciful grant them all a long life, the best of this life and the Hereafter.

I don’t express my gratitude properly: to Allah or my soul mate. These brief lonely moments remind me of those years when I rejected God, stumbling between the certain belief in the pointlessness of existence and the awkward innate conviction that God was indeed real and true. Recalling the road behind me, should I then not be immensely grateful and obedient to His will, a true Servant of God? He shows us signs on the horizon and within ourselves.

I pray that Allah reunites me with my loved ones soon and that from hereon I may be a better husband, father, soul mate, companion and friend, but more than that, a better Servant of Allah.

I try my best not to take on freelance work — an odd thing to say, perhaps, in the midst of what many describe as the world’s worst recession — but somehow these jobs seem to find me. A couple of years ago a very amiable chap pursued me for weeks in an effort to persuade me to put my typesetting hat back on and assist him in his work. Apologising profusely, I had to turn him down, for the timing was just not right; well, it was more than that: his own work was of such a high quality that I feared being unable to match it. I hope I was not rude when I stubbornly turned him down.

The past few weeks have been a bit like that all over again. I get a phone call asking if I still do freelance work. I say no. They say could I make an exception? I say, well I’m terribly busy. They say, well just think it over. I say okay, I’ll consider it. They call back telling me they’d really like me to take it on. I give in, agree.

I would probably still be stubborn had I not read some words somewhere that put these requests into perspective. I can’t find the passage now, but it went along the lines of, do not refuse anything good anyone should offer you, because that good is really a gift from God. Accepting this poorly paraphrased wisdom, I now find myself submitting to the requests for my time. It appears that God has some sort of plan for me, although I cannot see what it is at present.

So I take on more work than I really have time for, eating up my evenings and weekends. Count your blessings, you say. Yes, Alhamdulilah, God is ever generous and kind, despite my sorry state. Perhaps it is the answer to prayers, the kind of substitution that replaces time for sin with no time at all. The devil finds work for idle hands and all that — or rather, the devil tempts all other men, but idle men tempt the devil. Tis one thing after the other.

Yes, Alhamdulilah, I should say. After work and dinner, and after the children have gone to bed, it is back to a second round of work. So far it has all been web work — like this website for the Curriculum for Cohesion project — but one chap talks of a book to be produced. I have tried to suggest that he needs an expert, a scholar, someone of fine repute, but once more my reluctance is ignored.

Years ago, when I was actively seeking work, I tried my best to turn down a typesetting job for a very important work. Back then I needed the work and the money, but I felt the task was too important to be given to me. Instead I recommended all of the typesetters I most admired whose skills far outweighed my own, but somehow, in the end, the job came back to me. I tried to refuse it, but it was destined for me. It is humbling to see what happens when we give up trying to be masters of our own destiny. Sometimes there are good reasons why our reluctance is ignored.

The days of immense folly still return to the mind, often whilst bowing in prayer, causing an instant pang of regret, but soon the blessings of the moment overtake me. Despite myself and my far too numerous sins, we have witnessed blessings drive down on us more ferociously than August’s torrential rain. With the signs within and without comes confirmation that our Lord wants us to succeed.

At every juncture of personal failure, when sins have won out over the pursuit of righteousness, the One who alone is worthy of worship has made Himself known through the words of others, through the arrival of an unanticipated guest, through those blessings that descend so unexpectedly and abundantly.  I have fallen far this past year, and so God’s generosity is unmistakable.

May this Ramadan form a stable foundation for the year ahead. May it be purification for the soul and a fountain of reform.  May what follows be better than what went before. Indeed, may it be Mubarak!

Four and a half years ago, when I sought guidance and truth, He sent me a teacher and advisor, learned and perceptive, positive and wise.

Two weeks ago, just as the prolonged absence of my beloved was taking its toll, He sent me a guest and comrade, an example and mentor, a brother in faith.

Half an hour ago, just after I had fallen headlong into sin, He sent me Mrs Hasan’s lesson of the day, each pearl of wisdom addressing the exact need of that exact instant, responding to my failings like a parent to a child.

Throughout my life, despite myself, I witness my Lord continually showering His bounties on me, steering me away from the harm I would heap upon myself—protecting me from me.

Wherever I turn He is there. I wonder why the lower self fights Him, for His signs are perfectly clear. He does not want me to fail. But I fail myself.