Ramzan Mubarak. Ramadan Kareem. Have a blessed Ramadan. Hearts are still aching from our grief for Gaza. But we are preparing to be immersed in worshipful hunger and thirst that enlightens the body and heart. For my part, I aspire to a Ramzan of the able-bodied, but I bow my head to the Beloved and am grateful for whatever kind of Ramzan I have.
Much of my Ramzan is a memory of glorious nights under the stars in Islamabad and in London, darting from bodily trial to spiritual high, – with little thought or care (compared to now) for whether I was getting the sleep or rest that I needed. Then, I had no thought about whether I’d prepared a livable day for others, as I now do for the family that depends on me. If I spent the night at taraweeh prayer, I could just sleep the next day. If I was grumpy the next day, I didn’t have to worry that my irritability would affect a child. If I didn’t get enough to eat, I could make up for it the next day.
Those memories color my Ramzan today. It’s a different Ramzan. It’s still beautiful, just as I at 50 am still beautiful, but not the way I was at 22.
May your Ramzan be enriched with blessings. May your Ramzan be showered with Love of the One in ways you never could predict or plan.