Mothers’ day? Can a single day even do justice to the stepping stone to Jannah?

  –Suraiya bint Osman-

The Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w) said, “Your Heaven lies under the feet of your mother” [Ahmad, Nasai]

Dua for parents:  “My Lord! Bestow on them Thy Mercy even as they cherished me in childhood”   (Al-Quraan. S17:V23)

Its that time of the year again- close to the one day that  we choose as Today . . . Today, we will celebrate the wonders of mothers. Only today, will we recognize the value of a lady, the elegance, grace and charm that so beautifully belies the strength within. Today, and only today, will we salute and pay tribute to the mothers of South Africa, today, we will acknowledge the sacrifices a woman makes when she risks her life to bear and give birth to her children. When she sacrifices her comforts, needs and wants to be a source of inspiration to the man in her life. When she bows her weary head in silent prayer for those around her, when she wipes a salty tear from her cheek in the confines of her home, as she thinks of all those suffering in the world. Today, and just for today, will we admit that even the strongest of men once sought comfort in his mothers arms- the arms of a woman. The strong, supportive arms that held comforted and consoled us. The work-weathered hands that fed us, the tear filled eyes that so protectively watched us, and the now callous hardened feet that ran toward us in response to our wails and cries.

It is narrated by Asma bint Abu Bakr that during the treaty of Hudaibiyah, her mother, who was then pagan, came to see her from Makkah. Asma informed the Messenger of Allah of her arrival and also that she needed help. He said: Be good to your mother (Bukhari, Muslim).

In today’s world, it’s the gentle touch of a mothers hand on a grazed knee, the same hand, that just earlier rested defiantly on a truck steering wheel, the same hand, that will later kneed bread dough. The hand that tomorrow, will shake that of successful men, that will sign cheques with style- the liquid flow of a pen will soon be a child’s trembling hand within her own. The hand that handed us our first Quraan . . .

The same slipper clad feet, which paced passages during winter nights rocking us to sleep, hours before being squashed into stiletto heels and walking up flights of stairs. The same feet that desperately pressed down on brake pads and brought the car to a safe halt. The same feet that purposefully walked through supermarket aisles after a busy day, pushing a grocery-laden trolley. The feet that walked us to the path of Islam

It’s was soft soothing, voice of a mother we craved when we feel scared and insecure. The same voice that calmed us as we sat, fear ridden in a dentist’s chair. The voice that lulled us to sleep, the voice that hummed as she worked, cooked and cleaned. The voice that warned us of dangers, the voice that taught us about the world, the first voice we ever heard- was that of a mother. The voice that taught us the Kalima . . . la illaha illal la.

It was a mother’s eye that lovingly, adoringly watched us as we slept, and dreamt so hopefully of our futures. It was a mother’s glance at us as we played that filled us with the energy of love. It was a mother’s reassurance on our first day of school, and a mother’s encouragement on first madressa exam that we remember. It was a mother who cried tears of joy as we graduated. It was a mother’s advice that we sought about our deen, our careers and our lives – about the clothes we wore and the risks we took.

It was from the safety of a mother’s womb that we entered this cold, unfair world; unclothed, hungry and helpless. It was a mother who shielded, nourished and protected us, sometimes, even from ourselves. Alhamdulillah, it was a mother who introduced us to Allah.

For the nine months of a mother bearing every one of us, we chose one day, to embrace that reality. For the entire year that a woman suckled us, we chose one day to say ‘Thank you’. For the 12 years that a mother studied with us, carted and darted us to schools, sports, friends, libraries, we single out one day to pay tribute to her. For all the heartache, pain and tears that we cost, we expect a bunch of roses and box of chocolates to be repayment in full- when the only price is love and Dua. For the entire lifetime of unconditional love, support and prayers that  we get,  and the entire lifetime of worries, fears and wrinkles that we give- we chose today to reflect- tomorrow we would blink and forget . . .  So that we can get on with our lives?

Next month will be mother’s day, then father’s day in June. So be it. After all, in our robotic mechanized lives, we can spare only one day to say thank you to the brave, beautiful and special women in our lives. And I still don’t understand why we don’t salute mothers in their honour and dignity every other day of the year? Should we wait till next mothers day for that, oh no, how lucky, we have next women’s day too – so we only have a few months to wait before telling our mothers how special they are and how much we appreciate them.

A man came to the Prophet and said, `O Messenger of God! Who among the people is the most worthy of my good companionship? The Prophet said: Your mother. The man said, `Then who?' The Prophet said: Then your mother. The man further asked, `Then who?' The Prophet said: Then your mother. The man asked again, `Then who?' The Prophet said: Then your father. (Bukhari, Muslim).

We take so much for granted, people too. What if tomorrow is too late to tell our mothers that we love them? Will we live in regret of things not said? Will a wreath of lavender make up for a world of words left unspoken simply because it was not the chosen day to say them? Will the pain of hugs left unexchanged ever ease? “Once gone, only fond memories of the past and also regrets will be left”. Words said, thoughts imagined and feelings expressed, in the moment, in the day – impulsively-without waiting for the single day our society has chosen to universally and in chorus express our gratitude to the mothers in our lives. So its too early from the ‘chosen date’ in terms of the calendar we so dutifully must follow- but the message stays the same.

To all Mothers-Thank you for the sacrifices that you’ve made and the love that you so radiantly sprinkle wherever you go. Thank you for brightening the days with your laugh, and your guidance through the years. May you always be content, fulfilled and enriched. May Allah reward your efforts with the best of both worlds, may He forgive, guide and protect you. May Allah bless you.

And if tomorrow has already come? It’s a reminder of how fortunate we are, to be able to give the gift of dua – to do deeds for the Esaale sawaab of our beloved mothers –It’s still not too late ! ! !

 Abu Usaid Saidi said: We were once sitting with Rasulullah when a man from the tribe of Salmah came and said to him: O Messenger of Allah! Do my parents have rights over me even after they have died? And Rasulullah said: Yes. You must pray to Allah to bless them with His Forgiveness and Mercy, fulfill the promises they made to anyone, and respect their relations and their friends (Abu Dawud and Ibn Majah).

The roses die. The chocolates melt, but the words, the feelings, emotions and sentiments stay much longer. Dua’s are eternal. And in us, the values instilled will last a lifetime. How can we even buy into this commercialized ritual of setting aside only certain days of the year to express our wonder, Love and thanks to people in our lives and society- be it mothers, women, fathers, loved ones or children. As symbolic as women’s day, Valentines Day, fathers’ day or even mothers’ day for that matter may be, where in Islam, is there a place for them? A question to ask – any day of the year.

-Suraiya bint Osman-