My journey to Islam was not an  easy one. I had to overcome so many obstacles that at some point I felt like giving up on my religion.
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Life for me before Islam was extremely difficult. I was a very shy, quiet and reserved as a  teenager. I didn’t go to nightclubs, bars or drink alcohol. I was neither interested in boys or participating in  any of the typical western activities that was expected of a girl at my age.  I was considered an outsider and weird because I didn’t conform to the west’s ‘cool kid’ ideology. I certainly felt like I didn’t belong in a community which encouraged and accepted ‘boyfriends’,’ loud/brash behaviour’ and consumption of alcohol. Believe me, I tried to fit in but every time I did something which was considered ‘normal teenage behaviour’, such as  clubbing, I felt a huge dark cloud descending down on me. It just didn’t feel right,. Needless to say, me trying to fit in didn’t last long so I remained the weird girl. I knew I needed something more in life but I just didn’t know what that was…..until I found Islam.
 

A few years passed and I decided that enough was enough. I needed to change as I was sick of leading a double life. I was a Muslim and I needed to lead a life  that i would have the freedom to practise my religion openly. I thought deeply about it and decided that a quick marriage might be the only solution to help me to gain this freedom…so I joined a Muslim marriage site.
When I joined the website, I naively thought that the men on that website were only looking for marriage-. I discovered that this wasn’t the case. There were a all sorts criminals, play boys and visa hunters etc.. So after weeding through all these undesirable men, I eventually found my husband , at last my prince charming!
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We have grew both spiritually and religiously together, travelled the world, worked hard and created a beautiful life for our family. I am truly blessed and I thank Allah for protecting me and giving me so much fantastic opportunities and gifts in this life. So I did eventually have a fairy tale ending all thanks to my determination to become ( and remain)  a Muslim, Allah and my husband .
Stay Tuned for Part 2...

Out of curiosity, I started learning about Islam and even Christianity, since I had never really known about what the faith actually taught despite being raised Christian. The main difference that stuck out to me between Islam and Christianity was that in Islam, you worship God alone, there is only one God. In my heart, I always knew that there was only one God. I did not think Jesus was God, or a third of God, like the Christian faith preaches. I learned that Islam taught that Jesus was actually a prophet, as he even says himself in the Bible, and not a God. And when I thought about it logically, I knew that a man who was killed could not be God, because God is not a human being, and he most definitely cannot die. The more I read about Islam, the more interested I became because it was so logical and free of contradictions. I was so amazed to learn that the Quran, Islam’s holy book revealed over 1400 years ago to a man who could not read or write, contained so much scientific knowledge about Earth, mankind, space, and more, that modern scientists have only been able to discover recently with modern technology, and that so many scientists worldwide have converted to Islam for just that reason. I remember getting chills (and I still do to this day) from the information in Islam I read that no human could have possibly known 1400 years ago. This was a clear sign to me that this information was sent by God. While I was in New York I was lucky enough to meet a Muslim whose father taught Islam, so he had a lot of knowledge about the religion. ​
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I was very hurt and unfortunately this threw me into the “old me”. I was so let down by the fact that men in Egypt who were supposed to be “Muslims” were just as bad as American men who were supposed to be “Christian”. I fell back into sin, but Alhamdulilah, I ended up working at an Islamic School and met some wonderful sisters who started teaching me so much about Islam. About what was haram and halal, and what that even meant. I was learning but was once again looking for something to fill the hole that was smaller now, but still there.

I ended up used by another man who saw me as a “back up” to his first plan to leave the country using his first wife that he had supposedly divorced. His story started to unravel when I felt that something was wrong when I wasn’t going along for the ride like he’d hoped. So, another bad marriage and being less than a good Muslim, I found myself being the way I was before in the States. I really let Shaytan get the best of me. I believed his lies, that I wasn’t good enough, I didn’t deserve a husband or a family because of my past, being a “bad” mom, “bad” daughter, “bad” wife, etc.

Then a year ago I met, by chance, a fellow teacher at a school I was going to start working at. He had over heard me talking to a speaker they had about wanting so badly to learn Arabic, but I just didn’t seem to “get it” or to find anyone with the patience to teach me, and Alhamdulilah, he approached me. By this time I didn’t have any faith in the goodness of any Egyptian man, and figured he was just interested because I was foreign. I almost didn’t give him my email or phone number but I ended up doing so, just hoping for once I’d find someone who REALLY wanted to teach me, and nothing else.

A few weeks passed and I had only heard from him once, and let it slip from my mind. Then he contacted me via Skype and we talked about meeting. He asked me to come to his house, and I was like, ”OKAY….I’ll give him a chance but if he’s like any of these men, I’m out of there”. MashaAllah, from the moment I walked into the house, he was so shy and respectful. He left the door open as his dad had just left, and he called his aunt to come sit with us. She came from downstairs and was so sweet. She sat patiently while he assessed what I knew and discussed what he thought would be the best way to teach me. I started going every Saturday in the morning and found myself not leaving until after dark. I was so hungry for learning. He not only started teaching me Arabic, but would answer questions about Islam, with proofs. If he didn’t know the answer to a question, he’d ask a sheikh and research it to make sure it was correct and had proofs with the answer. I watched how he treated his mother and aunt and I found myself longing to be loved like this.  I had fallen in love with these two wonderful women and this family and was so very blessed by them. They ended up inviting me to spend Ramadan meals with them, even every day if I wanted. I had been so depressed about Ramadan because it was the first time I’d be spending it alone, and had even toyed with the idea of visiting friends in Pakistan during this time. Alhamdulilah, I didn’t go.

I loved the feeling of “family” as I miss my Mom and my family so much sometimes, and I worried I’d lose them once I learned Arabic. Alhamdulillah I really struggled with Arabic (still haven’t learned it properly and can hardly speak it). Over time I started to understand that THIS was how a man was supposed to treat a woman. It’s hard to look for something you have never seen before, and I realized I had NEVER understood or met a man that acted this way.  However he was much younger than me and I truly thought, “How can Allah be so cruel? To introduce me to this person, knowing I cannot marry him, and I KNOW how hard it is to find someone like this anywhere in the world, and especially in Egypt. Why would God do that?”

Up to this point I had met another man who I was attracted to, but then didn’t hear from during the whole of Ramadan after he informed me he’d never marry. As I saw my teacher more and more I realized that THESE characteristics, THESE traits, and THIS kind of Muslim man was what I wanted in my life. I finally found what it was that Allah wanted in a man for me. At the end of Ramadan that same man called me up and said he wanted to marry me, but I found I didn’t want to just “marry to get married” like I had before. I realized that was Shaytan again, using fear to lead me astray. Fear of living a life alone, fear of never getting married again, fear of dying in a foreign country and no one even caring that I was gone, etc, etc. I literally was given a choice, and I KNEW this went far beyond just another potential bad relationship. I knew that if I made the wrong choice, it may lead me down that path again that I didn’t really want to go down and this time I may not get another chance to do what was right by Allah. I remember sitting in my room and crying to Allah, and for the first time I SINCERELY meant it when I said that HE was enough for me. That now I understood what it really meant to be a good Muslim, and that meant LIVING life submitting to Allah, not just “believing” in Allah. And that I was okay with not marrying if that is what He wanted, and that I just didn’t want to lose this family as I loved them so much. The next day, my teacher proposed to me, and we married Islamically in October. In March, when he had the money, we married legally and I had put down for my Maher that I wanted to go on Umrah. Neither of my other two ex-husbands really gave me a Maher, never explained to me my rights as a woman of Islam, or of a wife. My husband did this before he ever thought about marrying me. He didn’t keep information from me, and made sure I knew what my rights were in Islam.

He took me last April on Umrah. I was surprised, touched and scared to death!!! I honestly did NOT want to go. I had asked for this as I thought he’d never be able to afford it and if he could, it would be years away. But since he’s a man of honor and he fears Allah and wants to please Him, he found a way. I finally broke down a few weeks before we were to leave and told him how I felt. I was scared to go there. Deep down I think I imagined I’d go to step foot in Mecca and I’d just fall down dead because I was so unworthy to go. All the things I’ve done in my past, before and after I accepted Islam came crashing down around my heart. The weight literally put my back out. I was stressed so badly that mostly I cried the week before we went. I truly felt I did not deserve to go. My husband explained to me that you go, because Allah has invited you. If it’s not your time, even if you’re the best of Muslims, even if you have all the money in the world, if Allah does not invite you, you won’t go. This made me cry even harder, silly I know, but HOW could Allah love me so much? Me, someone who sinned, upon sin, upon sin; someone who even at a young age knew what God wanted and rebelled and did the opposite instead?

So off we flew to Mecca; my husband, my mother in law and myself. It was beautiful, but still I didn’t feel that “peace” I had hoped for. We did Umrah and I was so panicked about being crushed by people, that I really didn’t “feel” God’s presence there. So I felt more guilt. Maybe Allah just didn’t want me there really. But then the night after Umrah, I dreamt  my husband and I were circling the Kabba, and we were alone except for these beings behind us. And out of our backs came this whirling, writhing rope of energy or something I can’t really describe and these beings were collecting it and took it from us until nothing came out. I woke up and told my husband and after he came back from praying, he asked me again about it. Inshaa Allah he believed this was a dream from Allah letting me know our Umrah was accepted and our sins “cleansed” from us. Inshaa Allah. Still, I didn’t feel any deep sense of peace. I’d heard stories of people standing in awe at the Kabba and I felt there really must be something wrong with me.

We ended up traveling to Al Madinah and there was something different about this place. I felt excitement for the first time. I felt like a child looking out the bus windows into the dark, watching for the lights of the city to shine from around a corner. And then there we were. The day after we got there we went inside the Prophets’ Masjid to pray. My mother in law had not come with us, and my husband wanted to try to pray on Rawdah. So in I went praying Allah would make it easy for me. As I searched for a spot to pray, I saw a woman with the kindest face look at me and smile softly. I motioned if I could stand next to her and she nodded. My back was still bothering me and the floor was too hard to kneel down so I stood doing my two Rakkah. When I finished I noticed she had turned her prayer rug sideways for me to use with her. I asked her if she spoke English and Alhamdulillah she did. She was from the UK and was there with her son. We spoke for a few minutes before the prayer, and I shared with her my doubts of coming. She told me that she had felt the same way the first time she came, and even felt the same this time, but wanted her son to come. It was a great relief to me that I wasn’t the only one feeling unworthy of this honor. After the prayer she gave me instructions on where to go to find Rawdah and what to do. We exchanged emails for Facebook and said our Salaams. I followed her instructions and ended up in a group of Pakistani woman. The women in niqabs that worked there pointed me to this group when I asked about the English section. I never did hear anyone speaking English, but sat quietly and talked to one of my best friends here in Egypt about what was happening on my phone. We got ushered from one area to another until we got to the entrance. Alhamdulillah my new friend had told me that they can get crazy and they will run and push and shove, so let them. She advised I stay behind, and be patient and it would be okay. I found myself inside, with no idea what to do. So I found a quiet spot on the carpet and prayed to Allah, pouring out my heart to Him and asking for forgiveness…AGAIN. And then I tried to go forward. I didn’t really know what to do. I assumed the big square structure covered in Arabic and gold was where our beloved Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, was laying. I ended up crushed between the barrier and a ton of women. I found one sister who worked there and asked if she spoke English. She did, alhamdulillah, and she guided me out of the crush and explained things to me. She was so patient and kind. She explained to me that as women we aren’t to visit graves, but we are here to worship Allah. Also that between where the Prophet lay, peace and blessings be upon him, and where he preached inside the Masjid,  is part of Paradise. She told me about the companions that lay with him, in Aisha’s room, and that they were surrounded by four separate walls with space between each. She also explained that I can pray for the prophet anywhere in the world and that there are angels who specifically collect these prayers or questions one might have for him, and brings them to him. Allahu Akhbar!! So she had me wait in a quiet area as the next throng of women rushed in and had told me to wait a bit then go more towards the middle and pray. I did. I just found myself praying, and I couldn’t tell you what I prayed for, but I know that when I stepped off that green carpet I felt like I stepped back from somewhere else.

I had never really felt much connection with the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, as I had grown up knowing more about Isa and Ibrahim and Musa(peace and blessing be upon them). But now, Alhamdulillah, I feel like I know him better. And I am so grateful that he believed in Allah when most did not. If not for Allah choosing him, I may not have been saved. Alhamdulillah. And even though now, I know I cannot go on punishing myself for my past and that Allah has so much Mercy and Grace that He may forgive me, inshaa Allah, and may allow me entrance into paradise, I am still struggling. But I am learning to forgive myself and see me for the good Muslim I am now, who I to try to be and that I’m improving on day by day.

So no matter in what ways you think you’ve failed Allah, yourself, your spouse, your family  or anyone, tell Shaytan to shut up! Cry to Allah for His protection and remember that there is NOTHING too big for Allah, since Allah created and allows EVERYTHING that happens, for His reasons. I work hard to remember this when I feel down about myself or my family makes comments about my past. I am not who I was…I am who I am now. And Allah loves me! Alhamdu lillah.