Parenting tips

[syilla]

Raising Children in Deen and Dunya by Hina Khan-Mukhtar
Published December 28, 2009 ​

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I still vividly remember the first night I spent by myself in the hospital after delivering my eldest son Shaan. The guests were gone for the day, the hallway lights were dimmed, the nurses were speaking outside my room in muted tones.

“Knock, knock!” came a cheerful voice from the doorway. “Someone’s hungry and wants his mommy!”

The nurse wheeled in the crib that held my newborn, only a few hours old at the time. She cooed over him as I struggled to sit up, then efficiently handed him into my waiting arms, bustling out of the room after giving me a few words of encouragement.

I pulled the blanket away from his cheek and smiled in awe at this fragile, little creature who was being left alone with me for the first time ever. I felt privileged to be trusted with his care, overwhelmed with the weight of responsibility. No one was watching over my shoulder; he was all mine and I could do whatever I wanted.

I felt it was an appropriate time to take care of something that no one had thought of arranging so far — introductions.

“Assalaamu alaikum,” I whispered to the warm bundle nestled against my chest, “I’m your mommy.” I stroked his face and then asked the rhetorical question that every mother has asked since time immemorial. “Now…how am I going to raise you?”

It’s a question that I have continued to ask since that first magical night in the maternity ward.

I’ve asked it of grandparents, parents, sons, and daughters. I’ve asked it of Pakistanis, Indians, Afghans, Arabs, Americans, Asians, and Africans. I’ve sat people down at parties, emailed friends’ parents, called up aunties on the telephone, and stopped uncles on their way out the door. Any family whose practice of Islam has impressed me, any child whose manners have stunned me, any teenager whose conduct with his or her sibling has given me reason for pause, any adult whose balance of deen (religion) and dunya (world) has wowed me, I have accosted and asked,

“What exactly did your parents do with you?!”

“How did you raise your children?!”

“I beg you, tell me the secret of bringing up Mu’mineen like the ones I see in your home!”

What I have found in my years of “field research” is that nearly all of these families have stumbled upon the same basic secrets to success. While many of them don’t necessarily know one another, time and time again they have given me the same advice, the same tips, the same rules. I would catalogue their stories in my head, thinking I could easily remember them later. So when I was recently approached with the request for an article on Muslim parenting tips, I jumped at the chance to put it all down in writing and thus preserve the valuable insights I have gathered over the course of the past twelve years or so.

Here then, for my benefit and yours, are the tips from the “experts”, the tried-and-true heroes who have worked hard at (and, insha’Allah, succeeded at) securing their children’s minds, hearts, and souls. These words come from those parents — like you — whose primary purpose in life has been to direct their sons and daughters onto the Path they believe will earn them the Pleasure of their Creator and the respect of their fellow human beings. Some of the advice may seem “common sense”, the type you could hear on any daytime talk show or read in any self-help book. Other tips genuinely surprised me at how specific and unyielding they were in their insistence that “This is the only way”. While there has been a whole variety of advice given to me, I have noticed a pattern emerging where the same ten “Rules of the Game” seem to keep reappearing in different shapes and forms; those dominant tips are the ones that I have chosen to focus on for the purpose of my article.

I have seen with my own eyes children under the age of ten who willingly set their own alarms to get up for Tahajjud prayer. I have hosted a young soccer marvel in my home who begins his day before mine by reciting Quran at Fajr. I know of an Ivy League university student who insisted on turning the car around because she realized she had left home without giving her mother salaams (farewell wishes). I have been acquainted with doctors who make more money in a single month than most people make in a single year yet choose to live in small homes with no mortgages so that their salaries can be spent supporting scholars of Islam. My husband and I work with a young man who once flew with his mother from California to Jordan, then turned around and returned on the next flight home — all of this so that his single mother didn’t have to travel across the world alone. I have witnessed fourth graders who were able to sit quietly with impeccable etiquette in front of Muslim scholars while the adults around them stretched, yawned, and sighed. I have heard children silence their young friends with urgent reminders, “Don’t say that about him! It’s backbiting!”

A sign of someone whom Allah loves is that when you see him/her, you remember Allah. The examples I have listed here are all people who have caused me to wonder about my own station with Allah in relation to theirs; they have motivated me to at least try to change, to improve. I’m sure readers will agree that, although Allah Alone knows the hidden reality of hearts, these people at least seem to have triumphed both in their embodiment of the true spirit of Islam and in their practical participation in the dunya. I pray that Allah Subhana wa Ta’ala will continue to send examples like them into our lives so that we may continue to learn and implement that which draws us closer to Him. Aameen.

1.) Dua, Dua, Dua

“None of this is from us,” insists one mother of three UC Berkeley graduates who have never voluntarily missed a single prayer. “Everything begins and ends with dua. It is only by His Generosity that we have been blessed with believing children; we had nothing to do with it. Now that we have it, we try to hold onto it by showing gratitude and not taking it for granted.”

Every single family I have “interviewed” about raising children in this day and age inevitably began by reminding me about the power of supplication. “Every success I have seen in my family’s life, I can remember having prayed for it first,” admits one grandmother of three huffadh (memorizers of Quran). “If my dua doesn’t come true in this world, I have faith that it will in the next one, so I have patience.”

Another mother of four tells me, “I recited Surah Maryam every single day of my pregnancy. I want pious children above all else — it’s all that matters.”

A convert friend of mine suggests that couples who are about to embark on the path of parenthood should ask themselves, “Why do we even want children?” She believes in renewing one’s intentions on a daily basis. “Who are we doing this for?” When she gets embarrassed by something her children say or do, she questions herself, “Why am I upset? Is it because I’m afraid that they’re doing something displeasing to Allah? Or is it because I’m afraid that they’re displeasing people?”

Her unwavering dua is that her children live their lives seeking only His pleasure.

Many families shared with me their reliance on Salaat-ul-Istikhaara (Prayer for Guidance) before making any major life-altering decisions and Salaat-ul-Haajah (Prayer for Need) when desiring something they felt was crucial for their children’s well-being. Whenever a blessing appeared in their lives, they were quick to pray Salaat-ul-Shukr (Prayer of Gratitude) as well.

“All that I have is due to my mother’s duas,” believes one mother of five children. “She was the one who was always praying for us, even when we forgot to.”

To be continued... InshaAllah

 

[syilla]

2.) Suhba (companionship) will make you or break you.

“There were times we sacrificed our own friendships in order to do what was best for our children,” a married couple of sixteen years tells me. When pressed for reasons why one would end a relationship, they explain, “Before we had children, we had friends who ‘drank socially’, who played poker, who hosted dance parties. Once our kids were born, we avoided those types of atmospheres. Our social gatherings are now the type where both the respected elders and the innocent children feel welcome and comfortable.”

“It doesn’t necessarily need to be that it’s the ‘drinking, gambling, partying crowd’ that is holding you back,” muses a mother of elementary school children upon hearing the couple’s history. “I have one set of ‘dinner party friends’ who believe in a ‘children should be seen and not heard’ philosophy. They plant the kids around TV sets and video games while the parents socialize in other rooms. Then I have another group of friends who engage their children in the adult conversations, who don’t keep the younger ones ‘out of sight, out of mind’. It might surprise you to learn that my own kids actually prefer to be around the adults who actually care enough to get to know them.”

“Sometimes I look around at the people I hang with and I think ‘What happened?’” laughs a mother who has chosen to homeschool her three kids. “None of these folks are the type I would have chosen as friends when I was younger, but I admire the way they live their lives and crave the peace and tranquility they trail behind them everywhere they go. They have a sense of purpose and an awareness of Allah in everything they do. I want to pass those qualities on to my own kids, so here we are.”

“Suhba is of the utmost importance. If you sleep with the dogs, don’t be surprised if you rise with the fleas,” a respected scholar advises. The words that struck me the hardest with their wisdom? “When you sit with People of the Dunya, you become a drop in their ocean, but when you sit with People of the Akhira, the dunya becomes a drop in your ocean.”

“A person is known by who their friends are,” my mother always reminded us. “Don’t ever assume that you are better than your friends. No! You are who your friends are.”

“I had a girlfriend whose company I really enjoyed,” remembers one mother wistfully. “She was the best person to share a cup of tea with, to go shopping with.” So what happened? “She and her husband decided that they weren’t going to raise their children as Muslims. Even though we liked each other a lot, we just didn’t see eye to eye on what was appropriate for kids. There were certain behaviors in her home that were complete anathema to us. I decided that I couldn’t have an independent friendship with the mom; at some point her kids were going to start influencing my kids, and we needed to part ways…so we did.”

One father confesses with a sheepish laugh, “I don’t know if our children are so God-conscious because of anything we necessarily did. My nieces are very spiritual young women, and my own daughters were always drawn to them. I think we got lucky that our children wanted to follow in their older cousins’ footsteps.”

“On the Day of Judgment, you’ll be standing with the ones you loved most in the dunya,” reminds another well-loved scholar, “so choose your friends wisely.”

More than one parent has gushed about the power a charismatic aunt or uncle, imam, halaqa (study circle) leader, or Sunday School teacher has had over their young ones. Many of the adults gave up a good portion of their weekends, driving long distances to take their children to gatherings and events where they hoped their children would benefit from being around like-minded people. “I firmly believe that no friends are better than bad friends,” states a father of five childen, “but I did go the extra mile to make sure that my kids did have friends with whom they connected.”

“Sometimes kids start to tune out what the parents say because it’s all been said before,” a mother of a middle schooler smiles. “My own parents told me to pray all my life, but it wasn’t until I connected with an articulate teacher who explained how prayer was for our benefit that I finally got the message…and it was my friends who led me to that teacher.”

 

[syilla]

3.) The Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) was a living, breathing reality in our lives.

“What better suhba is there than one who reminds another of the deen? Can there be a better ‘companion’ than the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam)?” asks a UCLA graduate married to a doctor who also does interfaith work for Islam.

When a learned scholar was recently asked, “What should we teach our children?”, his response was swift and unequivocal — “The seerah (biography of the Prophet) and nasheeds (devotional songs of praise). If your kids love the Prophet, they will automatically love Allah.”

“The best way to call people to Islam is to have them fall in love with the Prophet,” insists another scholar. “Children should fear and love Allah, but teach them about the love first. They can learn about the fear when they’re older. And who loved Allah more than the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam)?”

An eight-year-old recently burst into tears when he realized that his mother had neglected to wake him up for the Fajr prayer. The adults who were present exchanged glances, wondering what kind of terror the parents must have driven into this young one’s heart. Was he afraid that Allah was going to punish him? Did he think he was going to burn in hell? Upon inquiry, the child revealed that the real cause of his distress was the knowledge that he had neglected something the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) took very seriously, something he had exhorted the believers about on his death bed. Needless to say, the mother has been vigilant about waking her son on time for prayer ever since.

Many of the parents made it a regular part of the daily routine to recite the sunnah duas — the duas for beginning and ending meals, the duas for entering and leaving the home, the duas for waking and sleeping — until they became automatic. It isn’t a surprise for guests in their homes to see children as young as three reciting the dua for traveling as they get strapped into their car seats. “We didn’t minimize any sunnah in our home,” one Pakistani-American father tells me. “Once you start to think, ‘Oh, that sunnah isn’t a big deal; we can ignore it’, you’ve entered dangerous territiory. What comes next?”

In order to help his children learn the daily duas, this father neatly prints the supplications on index cards and posts them up all over the house until the kids have learned them by heart. I decided to follow his lead and taped up the dua for “looking at one’s reflection” on my sons’ bedroom mirror, completely forgetting to put a card on my own bathroom mirror. The result? My eleven-year-old now knows exactly what prayer to recite while brushing his hair for school, whereas I struggle to remember the Arabic words when getting ready in the morning.

“A co-worker recently asked me to name one thing that makes Islam different from other faiths,” my brother-in-law once shared with me. “Among other things, I told him that with Islam I got a prophetic example for how to live my day-to-day life. No other prophet’s life is so carefully recorded as our Prophet’s (salallaahu alaihi wasallam).”

With toddlers and pre-schoolers, I noticed that a lot of the parents mentioned the Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) as if he were a relevant person in their lives. They talked about him the way one would talk about any respected elder whom the child adored. It wasn’t unusual to hear parents telling their little ones, “The Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) loved green, so let’s wear our green clothes for Friday Prayer!” or “Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) taught us that we should sit down when we get angry, so let’s sit down since you’re feeling so frustrated.”

While visiting my sister in Southern California one weekend, I noticed that an English translation of Imam Tirmidhi’s “Shama’il” (Characteristics) sat on my six-year-old nephew’s beside table. She explained that it was part of their son’s bedtime ritual for her husband to share one hadith from that famous ninth century text with him. “Learning intimate details, like the fact the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) enjoyed eating dates with cucumbers, makes our son feel like he actually personally knows the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam).”

“Today’s generation is so fortunate, masha’Allah,” says one grandmother. “When our children were younger, there were hardly any quality Islamic literature or media out there. Today’s kids have so many choices! My grandchildren go through a different seerah book every year. They are constantly humming new songs about the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam). I pray that they always find joy in learning about (and then following) their Prophet, insha’Allah.”