By Dr. Nour Akhras
Every year, three months before Ramadan starts, undoubtedly, there are Muslims who post on social media, “only one hundred more days until Ramadan!” with a sense of excitement and jubilation. But when I see those posts, all I feel is stress and dread. That’s right. Dread. It sounds sacrilegious to even say it out loud. But if I am being honest with myself and you, that is the truth.
That wasn’t always the case. When I was younger, in high school and during college. I also could not wait for Ramadan. In those days of only being responsible for myself and the days that I hardly missed a day of Taraweeh prayer session at the mosque, I also counted down the days until Ramadan.
Now being responsible for a family of six human beings (including myself), the thought of the sheer exhaustion due to the lack of energy associated with fasting and the nights spent in attempting extra prayer along with rising earlier than the rest of the family to prepare the suhoor meal leaves much to be desired.
One of the most difficult Ramadans I have ever experienced was in August of 2012. I was a mother of two very young children, aged three and one years old. My husband was traveling to Chicago from Ann Arbor where we lived at the time; he was interviewing for jobs because we were in the midst of trying to move back to our city of origin. I was parenting solo and working at a tertiary care hospital as a pediatric hospitalist. I worked 12-hour shifts that were scattered between days and nights, keeping me in a perpetually dazed state similar to jet lag. Those shifts were so busy that by the end of each one, we (pediatric hospitalists) would feel like taking a sledgehammer to the hospitalist phone because it would ring non-stop with new admission, transfer calls or calls to take care of existing patients. So I braced for what was coming that Ramadan and I asked Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala (the Glorious and Exalted)- to just let me survive Ramadan.
Not only did I survive that Ramadan, despite the fact that my three year old also experienced his first complex febrile seizure which prompted a 911 call and a prolonged emergency room stay, but it really turned out to be a spiritually rejuvenating Ramadan. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think I made it to one Taraweeh prayer at a mosque that year. But as we all know very well, spiritual rejuvenation is not constricted to a time or place. It is however confined to one’s very intimate and personal relationship with her Creator.
For many, the excitement of Ramadan is attached to family, friends and feasting every night. However, what I hope we learned from the Covid19 pandemic is that if we strive and pray and set our intentions, Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala can still reward us with an enlightening experience that we can hold onto throughout the year. I hope it also taught us to think about and be proactive in inviting the lonely, the newcomers (whether to this religion or to our city), and those less fortunate than we are, to share in our jovial iftars.
The lesson I learned from my August 2012 Ramadan and from the Covid19 Ramadans is one that I will take with me for the rest of my life: I can do hard things. I know, it sounds like a mantra that you teach your young children when they don’t want to study for a test, write that essay or clean up their room that looks like a tornado hit it. But bear with me while I explain.
In no time outside of Ramadan would I expect to be able to abstain from food and drink for 14-16 hours while functioning at a mentally and physically exhausting job and at the same time, being able to have the emotional reserve to teach my three-year-old, he can’t throw things at his sister, nor the patience to change my one-year-old’s diaper. Yet, I managed to do this and I am sure you have managed difficult tasks during Ramadan too. So give yourself grace if you have not achieved all of the goals you set for yourself in the beginning of Ramadan or if you feel like you are doing less than your peers or friends are. At the end, Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala is going to reward you based on your intentions and your striving to get there.
Believing that I am capable of doing hard things like fasting and praying extra during Ramadan has taught me to push myself out of my comfort zone. Therefore, every time I approach a task that feels daunting, I try to remind myself that if I can fast in Ramadan for a month, then I can do whatever task I set my mind to. After all, isn’t that the point of Ramadan?! Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala tells us in surat al Baqarah “Oh you who Believe, fasting was prescribed upon you as it was prescribed upon those who came before you so that you can attain God-consciousness (taqwa).”
Also, isn’t the basis of taqwa: mind over matter?! Taqwa is letting your mind or your heart (wherever you believe faith resides) be in charge of your limbs. Taqwa is what reigns you in from following your harmful desires. Taqwa allows you to do hard things. And once you know that about yourself and find something you are passionate about, you will undoubtedly be able to achieve great things.
So embrace Ramadan. Even though it is hard. Remember the hadith Qudsi “Fasting is for Me and I shall reward for it.” Yes, we anticipate that reward in the Afterlife but the reward can also be in this world, in achieving lofty goals that can only be achieved when we convince ourselves that we can, in fact, do hard things!
About the Author:
Dr. Nour Akhras is a board-certified pediatric infectious diseases physician who has been working at a free-standing Women and Children’s Hospital in the suburbs of Chicago for the last decade. She holds a BA in Cellular and Molecular Biology from the University of Chicago and received her medical degree from Rush Medical College. She has traveled internationally, serving victims of war on multiple medical missions. Dr. Akhras has advocated for the rights of refugees by authoring op-eds in newspapers like USA Today and the Chicago Sun-Times and through speaking engagements including presenting at Washington DC’s National Press Club on the effects the violence of the Syrian war has had on the lives of Syrian women. She is a published author. She lives with her husband and four children and enjoys swimming, biking and watching her kids on their various basketball teams.
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