Stories of Muslim Reverts! - Post yours here!

**Ansar Al-'Adl** · 01:40 AM

If you are a revert please add your story here, because it is very inspiring Alhamdullilah.

There are several stories on this site:
http://thetruereligion.org/modules/xfsection/

I'll post a few:

Quote:

Lara

Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem
DISCOVERING ISLAM: A CANADIAN MUSLIMA'S STORY
April 25, 1996

As-Salamu Alaikum wa Rahmahtullahi wa Barakatu (May the peace, the mercy, and the blessings of Allah be upon you).

I am Canadian-born of Scandinavian and other ancestry, and I was raised in Canada. I have been a Muslima since February 1993 when I was 23. While growing up, I was never affiliated with any religion nor was I an atheist. When I was in my mid-teens I started to think somewhat about religion and at that time I did believe in the Oneness of God (Tawheed). Christianity never interested me.

My first contact with Muslims occurred when I was introduced to some Muslim international students in 1988. Through them I learned a bit about Islam, such as Ramadan fasting. But it was really not until 1992 that I became interested in Islam. In the summer of that year a Canadian newspaper published a series of articles attacking Islam by using examples of anti-Islamic behaviour of some Muslims in an attempt to vilify Islam itself. Non-Muslims tend to judge Islam on the basis of the behaviour (which is not necessarily Islamic) of Muslims. I was not yet a Muslima but the articles were so outrageous that I sent a letter to the editor in defence of Islam. Now I was curious about Islam. I re-read some articles I had picked up several months earlier from the MSA Islam Awareness Week display at my university. One was about 'Isa (Alaihe Salam) [Jesus] as a Prophet of Islam. Also, I asked a Muslim to get me some books about Islam; they were about the overall ideology of Islam and were written by two famous Muslim authors. Impressed, I thought, "This is Islam? It seems so right." Over the next few months in my free time while attending university I continued to learn about Islam from authentic Islamic books, for example The Life of Muhammad (Salallahu Alaihe wa Salam) by Dr. Muhammad Haykal. One certainly does not learn the truth about Islam from the mass media! Also, newcomers to Islam especially must be careful to avoid the writings of deviant groups which claim ties to Islam so as not to be misled. And just because the author has an Arabic name does not necessarily mean that he or she is a knowledgeable Muslim or even Muslim at all. Also, I learned about Islam from some kind, knowledgeable Muslims and Muslimas who did not pressure me. Meanwhile, I had begun to Islamize my behaviour which did not require huge change. I already avoided consuming alcohol and pig meat. Also, I always preferred to dress conservatively/modestly and not wear makeup, perfume, or jewellery outside my home. I started to eat only Islamically slaughtered meat. Also during this time I visited a masjid (mosque) in my city for the first time.

Until I discovered Islam, I knew almost nothing about it. I say discovered because the "Islam" that I had always heard about through the mass media is not true Islam. I had always assumed that Islam is just another man-made religion, not knowing that it is the Truth. I had also assumed that a person had to be raised as a Muslim to be one. I was not aware of the fact that all humans are born Muslim (in a state of Islam - submitted to the Creator). Like many "Westerners" I associated Islam with the "East" and did not know that Islam is universal in both time and place. However, I never had negative feelings about Islam, al-Hamdulillah. The more knowledge that I acquired about Islam, the more I felt that I too can actually be Muslim as I found that many of the beliefs that I already had were actually Islamic not merely "common sense."

So after familiarizing myself with what Islam is basically about and what are the duties and proper conduct of a Muslim person, as well as thinking and reflecting, I felt ready to accept Islam and live as a Muslima. One day while at home I said the Shahada (declaration of faith) and began to perform the five daily salawat (prayers), al-Hamdulillah. That was in February 1993, several days before the fasting month of Ramadan began. I did not want to miss the fasting this time! I found the fasting to be much easier than I had anticipated; before I fasted I had worried that I might faint. At first there was a bit of an adjustment period getting used to the new routine of performing salah and fasting, and I made some mistakes, but it was exciting and not difficult. I started to read the Qur'an (Abdullah Yusuf Ali's translation) when I was given one soon after accepting Islam. Before that I had read only excerpts of it in other books. Also in the beginning, I found The Lawful and the Prohibited in Islam by Dr. Yusuf al-Qaradawi to be a useful guide.

In January 1996 (during Ramadan) I started to wear the Islamic headscarf (hijab). I realized that I could not fully submit to Allah (SWT), which is what being Muslim is about, without wearing it. Islam must be accepted and practised in its entirety; it is not an "alter-to-suit-yourself" religion. Since becoming a Muslima I was aware that the headscarf is required of Muslim women and I had intended to wear it eventually. I should have worn it immediately upon accepting Islam but for many Muslimas (even some from Muslim families) it is not easy to take that step and put it on in a non-Muslim society. It is silly how so many persons get upset over a piece of fabric! Also, it is interesting to note that Christian nuns are never criticized for covering their heads. Never in my life did I have negative feelings toward muhajjabas (women who wear hijab) when I saw them. What made me hesitate to put it on was fearing receiving bad treatment from others, especially family. But we must fear Allah (SWT) only, not others. In the few months before I permanently put on hijab I started "practising" wearing it. I wore it when I travelled between my home and the local masjid on Fridays when I started attending the jum'a salah (Friday congregational prayer). (Of course, since becoming Muslim I always wore it during every salah). A couple of weeks prior, in du'a I began asking Allah (SWT) to make it easy for me to wear it.

The day I finally put it on permanently I had reached the point where I felt that I could no longer go out with a bare head, and I thought "tough bananas" if others do not like me wearing it since I alone am accountable for my actions and am required to perform my Islamic duties, and I could never please everyone anyway. Sometimes opposition to hijab is a control issue: some persons just plainly do not like those who are determined and independent especially if it is their child.

Upon wearing it I immediately felt protected and was finally able to go out and not be the target of stares/leers from men. At first I felt a bit self-conscious but after several weeks I felt completely used to wearing hijab. Sometimes other persons look puzzled/confused, I think because they are not used to seeing pale-faced, blue-eyed Muslimas! By the way, wearing hijab is da'wah in a way as it draws attention to Islam.

Since accepting Islam I continue to seek knowledge about the Deen (religion) which is a lifelong duty for all Muslims--male and female. Currently, I am learning Arabic and hope to be able to read the Qur'an in Arabic soon, insha'Allah. Reading, discussing Islam with other Muslims, and the Friday jum'a khutba are all educational. Striving to be as pious as one can be and fighting against one's own evil traits (jihad al-nafs) takes effort and is continuous and never ending for Muslims.

I find Islam ever-more fascinating, and I enjoy living as a Muslima.

**Ansar Al-'Adl** · 01:39 AM

Here's an interesting one:

Quote:

Originally Posted by Shirley

Bismillah al Rahmaan al Raheem
With the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful

All praises are due to God, alone with no partners, and may the peace and blessings of Almighty God be upon His final Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), his family and all his companions.

For as long as I can remember, I have believed in one God, and my relationship with God developed from wonder at and gratitude for everything around me that He had created.

I grew up in the seventies and eighties in rural Ireland. My family is Catholic and in my childhood the only religion I was exposed to was Catholicism. Despite this, there were things I was being taught which offended my instinctive sense of the oneness of God. For example, one night my Grandmother, after saying her prayers, took a plastic crucifix over to my bed and asked me to "kiss God". I was just a little kid, and didn't like to disobey by Grandmother, but I just couldn't do it, saying "it's just plastic. That's not God". Needless to say, my Grandmother was shocked and I was upset too to hurt her feelings, but I could not betray what I knew in my heart to be true.

In school, the religion lessons taught in the early years were things I could relate to; looking at what God had created, and hearing stories from the life of Jesus (peace be upon him). I found everything to do with religion enthralling, and especially loved to learn about angels. However, this changed when the time came for the class to prepare for Confirmation. This was the first time I became conscious of the concept of Trinity. Suddenly, the teacher was saying "Jesus is God". I was stunned, could not believe my ears! I looked at the girl sitting next to me to see how she was reacting, but she did not appear to find anything wrong! Then, I became frightened, and decided not to speak about my feelings on the matter. At that vulnerable age, I could not face the conflict between what people in authority were telling me and what my heart was telling me.

I was very successful at subduing my doubts about Catholicism, to the point that, as a teenager, I was able to overlook the contradictions which were so obvious to me as a child. All through my teens and early twenties, I was a regular Mass-goer, and found solace in the readings from the Gospel and the Old Testament. The Church was a source of peace and comfort. I liked to read about religion, and wanted to learn more about other religions, not because I felt dissatisified at that time with Catholicism, but wanted to see what truth there might be beyond it, the common truth shared by different faiths.

This was before the internet became widespread, and information was difficult to come by. The only books I could find that mentioned Islam, seemed to paint a picture of a terrifying fanatical people who inexplicably attached themselves to a man (Prophet Muhammad peace be upon him) about whom I could find no-one to say a good word. However, this only made me more curious. Why did people choose to be Muslim? There had to be more to this religion than what I had so far seen. I got a chance to learn more when I went to work in London after finishing college.

Walking home from work one day, I noticed the local library was having a sale of some old books. I had a browse, and found one booklet called 'The Revelation'. In it were some verses of the Qur'an, and the story of how Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) went to the cave at Hira and received revelations from the angel Jibreel. It was a delightful surprise to me that the angel Gabriel who had visited Mary was also known in Islam. Now Islam became less alien-seeming and more accessible, but at that time, that was as far as I was ready to go in studying it.

I returned to Ireland a few months later, and spent the next few years concentrating on getting a career going. And it was at work that I met the man who was destined to become my husband. As we got to know each other, we soon realised we wanted to spend our lives together. I set myself the task of learning as much as I could about my husband's native country, Pakistan, and his language, culture and beliefs. When he spoke about Islam, his face would light up with love and reverence, which opened my heart to wanting to learn more about it.

He offered a Qur'an for me to read, but I was actually frightened to read it at first, because I thought 'what if I read something in here that I have to believe - I might have to change my whole life!' I was frightened of the truth, and what it would mean for my comfortable, complacent life. But soon, I realised it was foolish to be afraid of the truth, and when I did read the Qur'an, it was like coming home! I describe it as like hearing again a long lost and most beloved voice; it was a sense of recognition deep within, that this is from God.

I also read about Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), his character, how he prayed, what he endured for the sake of Islam, and found a man of incomparable God-consciousness. The graciousness with which he prayed was so striking - I asked myself if his were the words of a false prophet. I could not believe that. And if he was truly a Prophet of God, then it was incumbent upon me to listen to him. He called to absolute purity of worship, with the message that your God is one God, therefore worship Him alone. Was this not the same message of Jesus and all the Prophets (peace be upon them)?

Among the Muslims I met during this time, some were more devout than others, but it was the women for whom Islam was the centre of their lives who showed me that 'the straight path' of Islam is the path of a true human being. It seemed to me their faces glowed with strength and peace, and I wanted some of that for myself! A good example of this is my mother-in-law. I spent quite a lot of time with her before and after I reverted, and she continues to provide me with a standard to live up to of generosity, kindness and devotion to prayer.

Although there were good people to support me, coming to the decision to revert to Islam was something I had to do alone, because I had to reach a point of certainty in my own heart. Turning back from the path I had been on, to walk the path of Islam, was a movement of my heart towards God. No-one else could do it for me. I reached the point where my mind was full of questions, and all the time my heart was yearning for the truth, praying, begging God for guidance and light.

If it was possible to be Christian and Muslim at the same time, I would probably have tried to do that! There were positive elements apparent in both, and I could see similarities between the two; both believing in one God, in the virgin birth of Jesus (peace be upon him), in the resurrection, judgement and heaven and hell. However, the differences between them were irreconcilable, and there were for me three issues in particular about which I had to choose either the Islamic or the Christian view, as I could not believe both. These were the questions of original sin, trinity, and the crucifixion of Jesus (peace be upon him).

I asked myself - is it justice that a newborn baby carries on her soul the sin of her earliest ancestor, Adam (peace be upon him)? Is it justice that we should be held to account for a sin we did not commit? Is it justice to send an innocent man to be tortured to death for the sake of the guilty? Why would God require a human sacrifice in order to be appeased? Is God a bloodthirsty tyrant that he will not forgive unless innocent blood is spilled? And if Jesus (peace be upon him) is God (aoudhubillah), does that mean that God sent Himself to be sacrificed to Himself as a ransom to... Himself? And when Jesus (peace be upon him) prayed, was he praying to himself? Again, if Jesus (peace be upon him) was perfect, then surely he lived the most commendable life possible, so why then do his followers neglect to follow his example i.e. he was circumcised, never ate pork, performed ablutions, adhered to the law of Moses (peace be upon him), but what Christians do any of this today?

On the other hand, there was the guilt factor. Wouldn't embracing Islam be a betrayal of Jesus (peace be upon him)? And of my dear family who sincerely love their religion? And my ancestors who suffered persecution because of their Catholic religion, and yet did not abandon it?

And one day, I was no longer left with unanswered questions. On that day, serenity covered my heart, and at last it arrived at a peaceful rest, believing that each soul is born in perfect purity; that no bearer of burdens shall bear the burden of another; and it is not justice that a Messenger of God, one of the best of all human beings, should be executed as a criminal; God is perfect, and God's mercy and justice is perfect; God can forgive whatever sin He wishes; God does not want blood, it is not blood that reaches God. When God wills to create, He has only to say to a thing 'Be', and it is! Exalted in the highest Glory is God from what is ascribed to Him of having a son! Jesus (peace be upon him) was a messenger of God, calling his people back to the right path, one in a long line of messengers, performing miracles by God's permission. And the people of old, who were completely ignorant of Islam, who is to say they might not have become the most devout Muslims if they had the opportunity to know about Islam?

None has the right to be worshiped but God alone, and all power and all praise belong to Him, the Cherisher and Sustainer of the worlds, the sole Source of Guidance.

**Ansar Al-'Adl** · 01:38 AM

Our very own Br. _salam_'s story!

Quote:

Originally Posted by _salam_

Well, seeing as how I am a revert to Islam I think I should jump in here, so here we go from the begining.

I was born and raised in a Catholic family, not an extremely religious family, but we did go to church every Sunday and on occasion it was more of a part of our lives than other times. My Mother had put me in Religious Education classes, or what you could call "Sunday School", starting at the time I was in grade school and going up through high school. I had gone through all the sacraments up to Confirmation but despite all of this I had never really been a religious person. I always believed in God, and had always believed in what I had been taught about the Bible for the most, but like I said religion was never really a big part of my life.

Around the time I was in high school was when I started to have my doubts about my religion. I can't say there was any one thing that caused me to start having doubts. I think it was that I was learning more about my religion and certain things within it just didn't seem to be right to me. Like the whole story in Genesis, and how when taken literally it completely goes against everything we know today, that just didn't fit with me. In my view I beleived that God was all knowing, so why would God have given us something so ridiculous. I remember being confused about how I viewed God and how the church had explained God to me, it just didn't seem to add up. So after a while I had kind of formed my own personal view of who God was and how God should/would act. However, this wasn't a huge deal for me because like I said earlier religion wasn't something that was on my mind a lot or a real part of my life.

Also around this time I went through some really rough times. I had become very depressed about life, and one of the main things that bothered me was that I couldn't figure out what the meaning of this life was. What was my purpose for being here, what was I suppose to do with my life in order to be happy. Religion didn't seem to answer these questions for me because at this time in my life I had adopted a somewhat Deist view of things. That is I believed that there was a God but that He just stayed out of our affairs and had left everything to run itself. And that religion was meaningless, after all there seemed to be no proof that religion had any truth to it anyway. All the proof, and evidence, and science of today seemed to show all the errors of religion and that the Bible just contained mere stories, and most of them appeared to not be true. After having held this view for a little while my extreme lack of faith in religion and God in general, eventually led to my disbelief in God. I had now, in my later years of high school at about age 18, considered myself an Atheist.

I was still having a lot of very hard times in my life, dealing with depression and still wondering what this life was all for. I thought certain things would give my life meanig and make me happy, and I would offten hope or fantasize about having these things, but even when I attained some of them, things didn't change and in the end I usually fealt worse about life anyway. My whole life at this point was just being with my group of friends that I had and partying and drinking, and that was about it. Now some might say that having friends around you is a good thing and I would agree, however, the group of friends I had were not "good" friends. These people were nice and everything but the truth is that they could have cared less if I was there with them or not, and those aren't good friends to have. I had become your typical American college kid who went and partied as hard as he could on the weekends, and sometimes during the week, and then spent the rest of the week waiting for the weekend to come around again. This was about all the meaning I saw for my life, with the exception of hoping to attain those things I fantasized would make my life better.

I was now into my second semester of college (or what was the second semester of just last school year) and had chosen to take a world relgions class, not because of an interest in religion (cause I didn't have one) but because I thought it would be an easy class. It was about half way through the semester that we started learning about Islam, which I didn't know much of anything about. I mean I knew/had heard, from an old friend I had in high school who was Muslim, some basic things like the 5 pillars and that Muslims believed in Jesus (pbuh), but that was about the extent of my knowledge. Then one day in class, shortly after having started talking about Islam, our teacher had us watch this brief video about Islam. Little did I know, this video was about to change my life, dramatically, forever!

I was sitting there in class somewhat paying attention to the video and somewhat thinking about other things when they recited the begining of surah 96, the very first surah to be revealed to Prophet Muhammad (pbuh).

"Proclaim! in the name of thy Lord and Cherisher, Who created, created man, out of alaaq: Proclaim! And thy Lord is Most Bountiful, He Who taught (the use of) the pen, taught man that which he knew not."

I can't remember what word was used to describe alaaq, but it didn't matter because right after the verse was read, a Sheik (unfortunately I don't remember his name) explained that what the word was refering to was a zygote, and how could a human living 1400 years ago know about such things. This verse immediately grabed my utmost attention, and has not ceased in holding me within it's grasp since then. I was completely dumb founded saying to myself, "How could this be? Science is actually coinciding with, and proving religion?" After class I immediately went home and started doing my own research about Islam online and I was absolutely amazed at what I found. Not only did I find proof supporting this religion, it's view of who God is was exactly the same view that I had come to on my own some time before. It was like I had believed the same things that are taught within Islam all along, with the exception of my brief touch with Atheism.

After doing quite an extensive amount of my own research about Islam I was sure that I wanted to become a Muslim. It happened a short while afterwards when I finally got up the courage to go to one of the local masjids where I was asked by one of the brother's if I wanted to take shahada, and I agreed. Around this time, either shortly before or after I took shahada, I remembered an event that took place a couple of months before when I was in the car driving. I remember I was driving to a friends apartment, most likely for a party or something of the sort, and I was in a very depressed mood at the time. I remember wondering what the purpose of my life was, and I remember being in tears crying out desperately (despite me being an Atheist at the time) "What is the purpose of me being here, why? Oh God, if there is a God, please help me, please give me some sort of answer, please give me a sign!" When I remembered this event I was trully astonished. I was astonished at how after sincerely asking for some sort of help I had recently been guided to Islam. I was astonished at how, what seemed to me to be the first time in my life, my prayers had been answered. I was astonished at how I had asked for some sort of sign and now here it was before my very eyes. And I was astonished at how Allah had bestowed His mercy on me and answered my prayers and guided me to Islam even after all that I had done in my life. My realization of this event really made true certain verses in the Qur'an such as verse 13:11

"For each (such person) there are (angels) in succession, before and behind him: They guard him by command of Allah. Allah does not change a people's lot (or condition) unless they (first) change what is in their hearts. But when Allah willeth a people's punishment, there can be no turning it back, nor will they find, besides Him, any to protect."

Just as a popular hadith says, I had to take that first step towards Allah but once I took that step Allah came running towards me. Whenever I think back on all that has taken place, all I can think to say is;

Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah!

02-02-2005

Masha'Allah. Revert stories are always interesting. I always enjoy readin' them.

Jazaka'Allah Khairun bro

Khattab · 02-02-2005

One of the greatest stories has to be Napoleon form the Outlawz, coming back from all that happened to him to accept Islam.

zAk · 02-05-2005

Quote:

Originally Posted by Ansar Al-'Adl

Would someone please post some stories they really liked?

I really liked this story of a boy who converted at the age of 10 !!!!!
just read on :

Quote:

By Waa’il Abdul Salaam

My story of becoming a Muslim at the age of ten years old might be unusual, but it was very real for me. I want to share my story in case other kids might be going through the same problems I went through. I was born into my birth family, with a mother who was Roman Catholic and a father who was Baptist. When I was born I had one sister who was a year and a half older than myself. When I was six weeks old, my birthfather took me from my crib and ran off with another woman. He left my birthmother alone with my sister. He hid me and was involved in drugs. I remember the first few years of being very hungry and alone. I remember how I was very angry and had a bad temper.

During those first few years, my birthmother’s friends got her a job as a bartender, so she could support herself and my sister. After awhile one of my birthfather’s friends went to her and told her where I was because he was afraid something bad was going to happen. My birthmother came right away and found my birthfather and his friends doing drugs. She saw me running around being neglected, so she picked me up and left with me. I didn’t really know her. I guess maybe I thought I was being kidnapped or something, so I threw temper tantrums every chance I got and became even more angry.

Eventually my birthmother finally got me to smile, learn how to hug, and even say I love you, all things I didn’t know how to do when she found me. My birthmother then had two of us kids to support and herself, so she wound up spending more time working at the bar, which meant we had to stay with different babysitters. One day my birthfather came to the house where we lived and took me back where he was living with another lady. By the end of that year, he tried to put me in school which did not work. I did everything I knew that was bad just to get into trouble.

The school called and said I couldn’t come back because of my behavior, so he took me back and dumped me at my birthmother’s doorstep. She was happy I was back and took me to my sister’s school. I thought I was getting left again, so I threw a fit, hit my teachers and other kids, and the school called my birthmother and said I couldn’t go to school there either. I was mad at everyone. I did the worst things I could think of to do every chance I got. This time my birthmother got on a plane with me and we flew to her mother’s house, (my grandma’s) far across the country, in another state. She was nice and loving to me, but she was very strict about my throwing fits. She didn’t yell at me or anything, but whenever I destroyed something or had a tantrum, she would take hold of my hand and walk me outside to a pile of small wooden blocks, on the side of the house. She would tell me to move all the little wood blocks from one side of the driveway to the other, and when I was done to come and let her know. Then she would go back inside and leave me there to do it by myself. At first I was so mad at her, but by the time I finished moving the little blocks, I wasn’t mad any more. It was kind of like a game.

By the end of the eight months I lived with my grandmother, I stopped throwing tantrums, and I used to sit on her lap and listen while she read bible stories and poems to me until I fell asleep. I learned all my school lessons, knew how to ride a horse, and I absolutely knew how to move blocks around. At the end of that time, it was time for me to go back home, and I was doing so well that I got to ride on a plane all by myself (with an escort of course). I felt very grown up and very happy. She told me that I was going to be just fine, and that whenever I got angry or sad or lonely, I should think about God. She said I should always remember how He took care of all the people in the Bible and if I would ask him she knew he would take care of me too. She told me whenever I got upset of angry that I should never hurt someone. Instead I should just pray to God until I wasn’t angry anymore.

After I got back home, my mother was happy because I wasn’t hurting people. I wasn’t throwing tantrums. I was eating well and not afraid to sleep. I was happy almost all of the time. Then, again my birthfather came one day. He saw how good I had turned out and just like before, he took me away again. He knew my birthmother had to work to take care of us kids but he would never give her even one penny to help. He even divorced her without telling her. She worked all the time, babysitters took care of my sister and a new brother that had born while I was away, and I was gone again. The new lady my birthfather was living with was so cruel. I lost a lot of weight and I am not sure how things happened, but it was during that time that I supposedly split my head open on monkey bars at the school, and supposedly was hit by a jeep in front of their home. I don’t remember those things too clearly, but I do remember his girlfriend picking up a two by four and hitting me with it in the front yard. I also remember my birthfather slamming my head into the kitchen table because I didn’t write fast enough. He and his lady friend would threaten me by convincing me that the devil would come out of my bedroom floor and take me to burn in hell if I got out of bed while they were having drug parties.

This went on until I was in fourth grade. My birthfather used to show me a big baggie filled with drugs he was then getting from a doctor and telling me how good they made him feel. His house was filled with dirty magazines and MTV movies and it all seemed normal because that was all I ever knew back then. I didn’t know there was any other way to live. I had long forgotten how my grandmother had taught me to pray and I couldn’t remember the wonderful days I spent with her, or riding the horses, or being hugged and read to, about God. All the bad stuff at that age seemed to push the good stuff away. When it was time to start fourth grade I became uncontrollable at school, figuring I would get sent back to my birthmother or grandmothers. I didn’t stop until I got what I wanted and it worked. I was taken back and left with my birthmother. By then, she was working around sixty hours a week, would come home tired, be yelling and screaming, expecting us to take care of ourselves, and not to give her anymore trouble. I wanted attention from her, so I went back to being a brat and being mean to my sister, and by then my new little brother who I resented even more.

By the end of the first month of that school year, I was the worst I had ever been. My birthmother couldn’t cope with me one minute longer. My birthfather had already made me go to doctors and they put me on five different kinds of medicine from Ritalin to even worse drugs, to try to control me and even that didn’t work. In fact, that stuff made me worse and none of it worked. I beat up other kids, started fights, accused them of doing things they didn’t do, stole things, lied, refused to obey the teachers, or do any work. School to me was a place I was going to play and do whatever I wanted to do. I knew they couldn’t do anything about it. I thought I was really something and all I thought about was me. They sent me to the hall, to the office, home, even put a box around me in class to keep me from bothering other kids, and I still didn’t give up.

Don’t get me wrong here, I am NOT saying all this to sound cool. I was an idiot to say the least. I know that now. I want other kids to know it doesn’t have to be that way, regardless of their family problems. So, if I don’t say how bad it had gotten they won’t be able to understand. I was only ten years old. I am thirteen, almost fourteen now, and I think back when I was ten and I cannot believe I was even the same person or that the kid I am telling you about above was for real. He was for real and he was me! Most people wouldn’t believe that a ten-year-old kid could be as bad and do as bad of things as I did, but this is true. It all finally came to the end for me, when I called another kids home, pretending to be another kid and saying the boy was missing. You can image how much trouble I was in then! That only got me put on more drugs from the doctor. All those drugs made me see things and hear things that weren’t there and made me angry enough to be dangerous. I don’t believe anyone should put their kids on those drugs even if the school insists. Adults just have no idea what those drugs do to kids or what they make kids think about. I am proof to tell you that kids are not going to admit to parents or doctors or anyone, when they have horrid thoughts, because of the drugs. Anyway, when the drugs weren’t helping and I was getting into even more trouble, it was at that point they threatened to put me out of the family forever. All of a sudden, my birthmother didn’t want to put up with it anymore and my birthfather didn’t want me either. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me.

When I least expected it, there was someone who offered to take me into their home and try to help me. They didn’t have children living at home, so there would be no one for me to hurt and they would homeschool me, until my behavior got in check. Neither of them drank and they didn’t use drugs. They were not going to give me any drugs and promised I didn’t have to go to a bunch of doctors unless I was physically sick. It was my last chance. I said okay and I was put on a plane and sent to their home. They picked me up from the airport. It was Jumaana and her husband Waseem. All of a sudden I felt different. Here was a new couple. I thought I would get away with more stuff. The family back at my home already knew my routines, so they caught me right away everytime I did something wrong, but these two wouldn’t know how I operated. At first, I tried to be loud and a real brat. I did a good job for a few days, reminding them both that they said I didn’t have to take all those drugs. They looked like they didn’t know what to do with me exactly but they re-assured me that their promise was good.

They had a room all ready for me when I arrived. The walls were pale blues, my favorite color. It had a blue carpet and blue drapes and even a blue bedspread. There was a desk, just for me to use, and even a small fish tank with a light that stayed on all night and fish that swam in and out of the rocks. It was incredible. I had never had anything like that for myself. I used to sleep on the floors on a blanket or on a couch in the living room before. As the days passed, the drugs were draining out of my body. It made me tired and drowsy most of the first few weeks and I slept a lot. I was ten years old and weighed forty-eight pounds because the drugs make you too sick to eat. By the end of the first month, I gained several pounds and felt better than I had in a long time. I did NOT want to get put back on that stuff ever again. The second month, my homeschool box was delivered to the house and Jumaana began to teach me every day, when Waseem was at work.

I could see how different it was in Jumaana’s and Waseem’s house. Not just because it was in Denver, but it was lots of things. At certain times, Jumaana would leave the room to go to her room. I would pretend to keep working, but I couldn’t help but notice that she would put on a long scarf over her head and a small rug on the floor and I wasn’t sure what she was doing back then, but she would be praying. I watched her do that every day and finally one day, I asked about it. I think that was when I stopped being so bad and started wondering about other things. See the house there was different, quieter, more peaceful, something I wasn’t sure about, because for ten years I had only known people who were either drugged up or drunk, or just plain mean. This was like a different planet, I think you could say. I didn’t exactly know what to think about it, but I did start liking being there. I tried not to get too attached because I figured one day I would get sent away again, it always happened and I didn’t want to think about it. That’s why I would have a couple good days and then I would go back to my old ways, just in case I guess.

Every day I asked more and more questions. Jumaana or Waseem would do their best to answer them. I wanted to learn to pray too, so one day I asked if I could pray with her. She said I could and even opened her closet and gave me new blue velvety prayer rug. I followed everything she did and I listened to every word, but I still couldn’t seem to be still, always wiggling and moving around, but after a couple weeks I could be still, and I felt so peaceful inside. I never remember feeling that way before. One evening, after I had gotten settled into bed for the night, Jumaana came into my room and ask if I was doing okay. I told her yes and she said she thought I had become more quiet lately and wondered if there was anything I needed. Waseem and her always talked nice to each other, and I never heard them fight or anything like the people back in my old home did. I couldn’t believe they talked so nice to each other and they were talking to me that way now too. I couldn’t quite figure things out. I thought maybe it would be okay if I told her I wanted to be a Muslim too. I really did want to be and I didn’t know how to do it. So, I just came out and said it. “I want to be a Muslim”.

She smiled and asked if I knew what being a Muslim was. I told her I didn’t but I wanted to be one. She tucked me in, gave me a hug, left the room and came back with some children’s books on Islam. That night I read them until I fell asleep. The next day I finished the books and I couldn’t get enough to read. I read about saying Shahada and so I told her right away that I needed to say it, so that I could be a Muslim. They reminded me that I was only ten years old and so maybe I would need to study more first. I told them that I had already read all the books and I had to say the Shahada that very day. I know I was young, but it didn’t seem that way to me at the time, because all I knew was that I had to become a Muslim. It was right for me and I knew it, right from the beginning. Later that night, on December 29, 2000, I officially said the Shahada to Jumaana and Waseem, and I became a Muslim.

Jumaana continued to teach me at home and I passed the fourth grade and the fifth grade all in one year. I also was given privileges to read whatever books I wanted from the shelves of books Waseem and Jumaana had. They had books on all the religions, but I read every one they had on Islam. I asked lots of questions about the difference in religions because I didn’t know why everyone in the world wasn’t following Islam. I went to the little town library where we lived and got to know the librarian there. She ordered me lots more books on Islam and would ask me questions about it too. She said I knew a lot for my age and was surprised about how much I knew about Islam. Then after I read everything they had, I would go to the big public downtown library and find all kinds of books on Islam. I knew I could never be any other except a Muslim.

My birthparents did not want me to come back to live with them ever. They only remembered me the way I was when they sent me away. I really didn’t want to go back to live the way I had before or live with them with the drinking, drugs, fighting, and chaos either. They had not sent any money to take care of me the whole first year I lived with Jumaana and Waseem. Waseem was ready to retire but he kept on working just to take care of me, and Jumaana had given up her writing to teach me at home. They had done these things because they cared about what happened to me. I really didn’t want to ever leave them. So, after I lived with them for a year, the courts granted me a legal adoption. It would be the only way they could have the right to make decisions about my schooling and other legal issues that they couldn’t do, because they were not considered my parents. Because my birthparents hadn’t had contact with me and never sent any support for the whole year, the court could make me go into a home or foster care, if they wanted to. I was so afraid that if my birthparents all of a sudden wanted to take me back because I was so much better, that they would do the same things to me they had before and I also knew they would never let me stay a Muslim.

I prayed so hard every day, five times a day and more, asking Allah to help me. Adoption in this country is the only way to assure legal rights and I wanted Waseem and Jumaana to adopt me more than anything. I was so happy when the courts felt it was the best thing for me too. The papers were filed and my birthparents were notified that adoption requests were filed. They didn’t even bother to contact the courts to contest it, in fact they quickly signed the papers to give me up. Actually I was happy about that. Then on the day of the adoption, the judge even told me I could change my name. I chose Waa’il because it meant ‘one who returns for shelter’ and I felt like I went to Jumaana’s and Waseem’s for shelter. Also I felt like I had returned to ‘Islam’ so that was a shelter for me inside. It was the best thing in my whole life that ever happened to me. Because of the delays in removing the parental rights of my birthparents, the date for my adoption was changed, making it fall on the first day of Ramadhan in 2001. It was like Allah was blessing me over and over again.

So, in these last three and a half years, my life is so incredibly different. Sometimes it is hard to think back what it used to be like before becoming a Muslim. Having had such a stubborn and defiant attitude those first ten years of my life still affects me sometimes, but I am really so different than I was back then. People don’t think I am only thirteen and a half when they meet me. Most of them think I am a lot older. I think it is probably because I had such a tough life from the time I was born until I came to live with my new parents. They encourage me to keep at least some kind of contact with my birthfamily, but it’s okay now because I know they cannot come and take me away or tell me I can’t be a Muslim. I know that I am safe and I believe Allah allowed all of this and made it all happen, which makes the bad parts I remember bearable now, because I found Islam and maybe I would never have found Allah if all that stuff hadn’t happened. Well, at least I think that way now.

My sister even came and spent a week during her school break this last December/January. I hadn’t seen her in over three years. She is fifteen now and flew here on her own to stay with us for the week. She was shocked at the change in me. I had grown to five foot ten inches in height from being half her size when I left, which made me tower over her by almost a foot. I also outweighed her by fifty pounds, after having last been seen a scrawny skeleton of a kid. When I left I was wearing a ‘rug rats’ hat and ‘harry potter’ clothes from television and cartoon shows. When she saw me this time, I was wearing a Kufi or one of my other kinds of Islamic caps and a Kurris. When I left I had been a loud, troublemaking, obnoxious brat, who had failed three out of five grades and who couldn’t even write a complete sentence. This time she saw me polite, quieter, having passed all my grades, skipping a whole grade which put me in the same grade as she was. She would see me stop whatever I was doing, to go to Prayer five times every day. She really hated me when I left home at age ten, and was expecting me to be the same. She told me after a couple days of being with us, that she could hardly believe I was the same person and she really liked me as her brother now. She found out I was a Muslim. Because I had changed so much, she asked a ton of questions about Islam, took back a bunch of Islamic books I gave her, and told everyone back there that they just wouldn’t believe how different I was. Now, every once in a while, my birthmother will let my brother and sister call, and she even talks to me a few minutes. I send books for them to read about Islam and I hope someday they will all become Muslims too. I know they would be so much happier if they did.

My life seems a hundred years away from the way it used to be. I have become a Muslim now going on four years, been blessed with new Muslim parents, had my adoption finalized on the very first day of my very first Ramadhan, learned my prayers in Arabic, read my new parent’s entire library of books on Islam, exhausted the public libraries of their Islamic books, been given a new name and a new life. I don’t know what else I could ask for. I am studying very hard to finish my high school in another two years. I will be sixteen, but I feel like I am a lot older. I know now that I didn’t need drugs to make me behave. I didn’t need anger to get me through all those years of chaos. I didn’t need to be so hurtful to others, just to get attention. I didn’t need to cause such chaos for others. What I needed all along was Islam. I needed Allah. The way I see it is, that instead of these schools and parents putting their kids on Ritalin and other junk, they should put their time and money in studying Islam and teaching their children about Allah. When nothing else worked, and believe me a lot of people tried to get me straightened out, Allah did it. Allah can do anything. He can do everything. When he does something for you, it is the way it is supposed to be.

I am Waa’il Abdul Salaam and this is my story.

leena.noor · **Coming to Islam part 1 and 2 -** 02-05-2005

Asalaamu Aleykum Brothers and Sisters. Since my conversion, I have had so many people ask me to write down my account, so I think that right now is the time. As with many reverts, something happened in my old life that led me to where I am now. When I was in high school, in history class we were all assigned a religion to study, and the religion that my group picked was Islam. I found it very interesting and I really got involved in the project, but after it was over, I forgot most of it. From time to time I remember hearing about Islam from my mom (she loves Cat Stevens, and I remember her telling me about his conversion.) I was brought up in a family that is very open minded and never attached judgment to any of these things. I was baptized into the Catholic Church when I was eight years old because my parents thought that religion would help give some form of stability to my family. My parents were Christians one day a week at best, and never really impressed religion beyond what we learned in church upon us. My senior year in high school I started my search for religion. I became a devoted Christian going to a different church every Sunday, and going to Bible study. I went to Nicaragua the previous summer on a mission trip, but while there found a verse in 1Timothy that had me angry with God for days. Going to Nicaragua made me more convinced that Christianity is used as a coping tool because with out it, the people would not have the hope to survive. I attended more than 15 different denominational churches in my search for God.
I study religion because I am able to see the part that it plays in the lives of individuals, but I never felt fulfilled. The more I learned, the more questions were being raised for me, and the more and more unsatisfied I felt. I ignored these feelings and came to a Catholic College, and became active in the Campus ministry. It was at college that I met Muslim sisters that began to teach me about Islam. Looking back, I was so ignorant, and they were so patient, teaching me over and over. My friend went back and looked at our first conversation and laughs at some stupid things I said. I remember not being able to say the whole greeting, and then how happy I was when I realized that I could say it correctly. My Muslim sisters I met gave me websites and people to talk to about Islam, and through these people I learned more and more.
I never intended to convert. I still was misinformed about the roles of Women in Islam. Because of what I read and because of the media, I did see them as silent and subservient. I had my eyes open when I met some wonderful Muslim sisters. When I saw a Sister pray I knew that I wanted to convert. It was so beautiful and fluid, and I could feel the closeness with God. I kept telling people I didn't want to convert but when the fact that I believed Shahadah was pointed out to me; I couldn't stop thinking about religion. All day in my classes, before I slept, all my time awake I studied Islam and kept questioning why I was here on this earth. I came to the realization that it was to worship Allah. I took Shahadah in my heart long before I took it with witnesses. When I was put on the phone with someone that pointed out that I believed in Islam, it was then I cried. I cried because I realized that my life was about to change, and I couldn't ignore it. I was scared to go to the masjid to say Shahadah so I put it off. When I did go, I was so nervous. It was a fun experience for me to go to the masjid though. Someone even took my flip-flops to make wudu. In the following months, I have faced a lot of difficulties and obstacles in my faith. I hope to InshaAllah learn more about Islam everyday, and have my eyes opened more and more everyday. Thank you to all of the wonderful brothers and sisters that have helped me on my journey...and my I grow closer everyday to the relationship that Allah wants me to have with HIM.
Part two:

Sometimes I think that living in IN ruined me. It makes me care what other people through of me, too much, and it didn’t expose me to as many cultures and religions as I would like to have been exposed to. My grandfather is a Catholic priest and more than anything else in my life, I fear his finding out that I converted. I was at one time completely encompassed by fear about what my parents would think. Even before I converted I was so incredibly afraid of what other people would and will think about my conversion. I spend hours explaining Islam to people and dispelling their unguided incorrect information, but never tell them that, I am in fact a Muslim. I don’t look like a stereotypical Muslim. I am white, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and I look like a good little American Christian girl. I don’t wear hijab; once again for my fear of people paying me undo interest. I remember going to the masjid and I have to walk about half a mile from the train station, and being terrified because I put hijab on and was afraid that someone was going to do something to me while I was walking to the masjid. Nothing happened though, and I am starting to realize that all of my fears from living around close-minded people aren’t necessary here. People in this area are used to seeing women in hijab. People in Indiana would think that I’m a nun. I am very picky with the people I tell that I’m Muslim. It took a month and a half and there are still a couple people in my office that don’t know I’m Muslim. When it came to finding a Muslim for a speaking engagement though, guess who they looked to J me…..hahaha that was rather interesting.
Anyways though this was supposed to be about my telling my parents! I went home about three weeks ago, and I knew that I had to tell them. It was eating me up inside. I didn’t eat for three days before I went home, and I was just so incredibly nervous. I was having panic attacks and alternating between sleeping all the time and not sleeping at all, and it was all I could think about when I was awake, and when I was asleep I was dreaming of the worst-case scenario. It really wasn’t a good situation. People kept telling me, either, don’t tell them, or trust God.
After I returned home, I was making a grilled cheese sandwich and my mother said something, I can’t remember what having to do with religion and looking into ‘Muslim’. I first couldn’t believe that she already knew I was looking into Islam and secondly couldn’t believe how uninformed about Islam she was. I told her not to tell my dad, so of course she leans over and yells out the window ‘hey John, I have something to tell you’. He comes over and is like ‘what’? My mom says in all her glory ‘your daughter is studying Muslim’ ….I about died, but I replied ‘Islam mom, its Islam.’ “Oh…she’s studying Islam then’. My father’s response was… “Where did you want to me to plant this?” I almost died with relief.
When I went to pray my mom wanted to see my hijab and all of my Islamic paraphernalia that I had cleverly hidden in a backpack. I showed her and she was moderately interested. See, my parents have always taught my brother and I to be the most open minded, kind, charitable people that we are able to be, to ignore the chains of modern society and be our own person. Because of this, my mother now has a Wiccan son and a Muslim daughter. I think she is quite happy.
While at home, my mother was making mac and cheese with ham in it and I explained that I didn’t eat ham and explained why. She the proceeded to make me my own little batch with no ham in it. When I left, I left her a book to read and that she did read and apparently took to heart. See, I am convinced that my mother would be a wonderful Muslim. After reading my book, she says out of solidarity with me, she stopped eating pork or anything containing pork products. The one thing is that she forgot to tell me this lol. I found out through my moms friend. I was completely shocked. My mother loved ham and all that stuff, and I cried because I realized that moment how much my mother loved me and would always support me, unless I became a Republican. That would seriously be the only way to get disowned in my family. Anyways, inshaAllah I can show my mother the way, and she can become a Muslim. I know that it’s in her heart, and I can show her the path. Salaam Aleykum brothers and sisters. Thank you for your support
Please e-mail me with any comments because it will take a year to find any on here...thanks

02-05-2005

Subhan'Allah sis leena.noor, that has to be one of the most inspiring revert story that I've read so far. All Praise is due to Allah. Welcome to Islam sis. Insha'Allah, with Allah's guidance, I pray to Allah SWT that your mother also embraces this wonder way of life.

Jazaka'Allah Khairun for sharin' sis and once again, welcome!!

By the way, Ansar

, that's her story!

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kadafi Guest Status: Posts: n/a Reputation: Gender:	02-02-2005 Masha'Allah. Revert stories are always interesting. I always enjoy readin' them. Jazaka'Allah Khairun bro

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Khattab Slave of Allah Status: Offline Posts: 567 Reputation: 543 Rep Power: 21 Join Date: Dec 2004 Way of Life: Muslim	02-02-2005 One of the greatest stories has to be Napoleon form the Outlawz, coming back from all that happened to him to accept Islam. __________________ *"Lo! the Hour is surely coming, there is no doubt thereof; yet most of mankind believe not." (Al-Ghafir:59)*

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leena.noor Limited Member Status: Offline Posts: 10 Reputation: 14 Rep Power: 0 Join Date: Jan 2005 Location: In the US Gender:	Coming to Islam part 1 and 2 - 02-05-2005 Asalaamu Aleykum Brothers and Sisters. Since my conversion, I have had so many people ask me to write down my account, so I think that right now is the time. As with many reverts, something happened in my old life that led me to where I am now. When I was in high school, in history class we were all assigned a religion to study, and the religion that my group picked was Islam. I found it very interesting and I really got involved in the project, but after it was over, I forgot most of it. From time to time I remember hearing about Islam from my mom (she loves Cat Stevens, and I remember her telling me about his conversion.) I was brought up in a family that is very open minded and never attached judgment to any of these things. I was baptized into the Catholic Church when I was eight years old because my parents thought that religion would help give some form of stability to my family. My parents were Christians one day a week at best, and never really impressed religion beyond what we learned in church upon us. My senior year in high school I started my search for religion. I became a devoted Christian going to a different church every Sunday, and going to Bible study. I went to Nicaragua the previous summer on a mission trip, but while there found a verse in 1Timothy that had me angry with God for days. Going to Nicaragua made me more convinced that Christianity is used as a coping tool because with out it, the people would not have the hope to survive. I attended more than 15 different denominational churches in my search for God. I study religion because I am able to see the part that it plays in the lives of individuals, but I never felt fulfilled. The more I learned, the more questions were being raised for me, and the more and more unsatisfied I felt. I ignored these feelings and came to a Catholic College, and became active in the Campus ministry. It was at college that I met Muslim sisters that began to teach me about Islam. Looking back, I was so ignorant, and they were so patient, teaching me over and over. My friend went back and looked at our first conversation and laughs at some stupid things I said. I remember not being able to say the whole greeting, and then how happy I was when I realized that I could say it correctly. My Muslim sisters I met gave me websites and people to talk to about Islam, and through these people I learned more and more. I never intended to convert. I still was misinformed about the roles of Women in Islam. Because of what I read and because of the media, I did see them as silent and subservient. I had my eyes open when I met some wonderful Muslim sisters. When I saw a Sister pray I knew that I wanted to convert. It was so beautiful and fluid, and I could feel the closeness with God. I kept telling people I didn't want to convert but when the fact that I believed Shahadah was pointed out to me; I couldn't stop thinking about religion. All day in my classes, before I slept, all my time awake I studied Islam and kept questioning why I was here on this earth. I came to the realization that it was to worship Allah. I took Shahadah in my heart long before I took it with witnesses. When I was put on the phone with someone that pointed out that I believed in Islam, it was then I cried. I cried because I realized that my life was about to change, and I couldn't ignore it. I was scared to go to the masjid to say Shahadah so I put it off. When I did go, I was so nervous. It was a fun experience for me to go to the masjid though. Someone even took my flip-flops to make wudu. In the following months, I have faced a lot of difficulties and obstacles in my faith. I hope to InshaAllah learn more about Islam everyday, and have my eyes opened more and more everyday. Thank you to all of the wonderful brothers and sisters that have helped me on my journey...and my I grow closer everyday to the relationship that Allah wants me to have with HIM. Part two: Sometimes I think that living in IN ruined me. It makes me care what other people through of me, too much, and it didn’t expose me to as many cultures and religions as I would like to have been exposed to. My grandfather is a Catholic priest and more than anything else in my life, I fear his finding out that I converted. I was at one time completely encompassed by fear about what my parents would think. Even before I converted I was so incredibly afraid of what other people would and will think about my conversion. I spend hours explaining Islam to people and dispelling their unguided incorrect information, but never tell them that, I am in fact a Muslim. I don’t look like a stereotypical Muslim. I am white, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and I look like a good little American Christian girl. I don’t wear hijab; once again for my fear of people paying me undo interest. I remember going to the masjid and I have to walk about half a mile from the train station, and being terrified because I put hijab on and was afraid that someone was going to do something to me while I was walking to the masjid. Nothing happened though, and I am starting to realize that all of my fears from living around close-minded people aren’t necessary here. People in this area are used to seeing women in hijab. People in Indiana would think that I’m a nun. I am very picky with the people I tell that I’m Muslim. It took a month and a half and there are still a couple people in my office that don’t know I’m Muslim. When it came to finding a Muslim for a speaking engagement though, guess who they looked to J me…..hahaha that was rather interesting. Anyways though this was supposed to be about my telling my parents! I went home about three weeks ago, and I knew that I had to tell them. It was eating me up inside. I didn’t eat for three days before I went home, and I was just so incredibly nervous. I was having panic attacks and alternating between sleeping all the time and not sleeping at all, and it was all I could think about when I was awake, and when I was asleep I was dreaming of the worst-case scenario. It really wasn’t a good situation. People kept telling me, either, don’t tell them, or trust God. After I returned home, I was making a grilled cheese sandwich and my mother said something, I can’t remember what having to do with religion and looking into ‘Muslim’. I first couldn’t believe that she already knew I was looking into Islam and secondly couldn’t believe how uninformed about Islam she was. I told her not to tell my dad, so of course she leans over and yells out the window ‘hey John, I have something to tell you’. He comes over and is like ‘what’? My mom says in all her glory ‘your daughter is studying Muslim’ ….I about died, but I replied ‘Islam mom, its Islam.’ “Oh…she’s studying Islam then’. My father’s response was… “Where did you want to me to plant this?” I almost died with relief. When I went to pray my mom wanted to see my hijab and all of my Islamic paraphernalia that I had cleverly hidden in a backpack. I showed her and she was moderately interested. See, my parents have always taught my brother and I to be the most open minded, kind, charitable people that we are able to be, to ignore the chains of modern society and be our own person. Because of this, my mother now has a Wiccan son and a Muslim daughter. I think she is quite happy. While at home, my mother was making mac and cheese with ham in it and I explained that I didn’t eat ham and explained why. She the proceeded to make me my own little batch with no ham in it. When I left, I left her a book to read and that she did read and apparently took to heart. See, I am convinced that my mother would be a wonderful Muslim. After reading my book, she says out of solidarity with me, she stopped eating pork or anything containing pork products. The one thing is that she forgot to tell me this lol. I found out through my moms friend. I was completely shocked. My mother loved ham and all that stuff, and I cried because I realized that moment how much my mother loved me and would always support me, unless I became a Republican. That would seriously be the only way to get disowned in my family. Anyways, inshaAllah I can show my mother the way, and she can become a Muslim. I know that it’s in her heart, and I can show her the path. Salaam Aleykum brothers and sisters. Thank you for your support Please e-mail me with any comments because it will take a year to find any on here...thanks

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kadafi Guest Status: Posts: n/a Reputation: Gender:	02-05-2005 Subhan'Allah sis leena.noor, that has to be one of the most inspiring revert story that I've read so far. All Praise is due to Allah. Welcome to Islam sis. Insha'Allah, with Allah's guidance, I pray to Allah SWT that your mother also embraces this wonder way of life. Jazaka'Allah Khairun for sharin' sis and once again, welcome!! By the way, Ansar , that's her story!

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Ansar Al-'Adl Administrator Status: Offline Posts: 5,167 Reputation: 12037 Rep Power: 41 Join Date: Dec 2004 Gender: Way of Life: Muslim	A Jewish Man's Story of Finding Islam - 03-29-2005