Have Mercy!

Isn’t it ironic that such an incident would occur after a whole weekend of delving in the manners and etiquettes of the scholars of Islam? Last night, as I brooded over the incident, automatically inviting insomnia to blanket me until I fell asleep, I felt quite disheartened, regretful, and sad over the whole thing.

My two kiddoes, Zaza, (eight) and Juju (nine) wanted so much to take the AlMaghrib class Torch Bearers, and alhamdulillah they managed to. We had a very (I’m not exaggerating) long weekend, but a very beneficial one alhamdulillah. As I’m typing, Juju is asking me,

“Do we know what the next class is yet?”

They’re excited about the next class.

This morning I continued last night’s brooding and pondering over the incident. I realized and learned one thing : The Muslim adults of today lack mercy with children, and this is first and foremost a reminder and reprimand for myself before anyone else.

We tend to treat children as unimportant little people who are expected to romp about and not have anything valuable to contribute. Honestly, I find this opposite to the way the Prophet sallaallaahu alayhi wasallam used to treat children. He used to ask their opinions, include them in gatherings, honor them by treating them with respect, and most importantly, he never treated them as if they don’t matter, as if they’re invisible.

These are a few examples of his treatment of our younger section of the ummah:

Allah’s Messenger was particularly compassionate towards children. When he saw a child crying, he sat beside him or her and shared his or her feelings. He felt the pain of a mother for her child more than the mother herself. Once he said: “I stand in prayer and wish to prolong it. However, I hear the cry of a child and cut the prayer short for the anxiety which the mother is feeling.” (Al-Bukhari)

He would take children in his arms and embrace them. He was once hugging his beloved grandsons, Hasan and Hussain, when Aqrah bin Haabis told him, ‘I have got ten children. So far, I have not kissed any of them.’ Allah’s Messenger responded: “The one with no pity for others is not pitied.” (Al-Bukhari and Muslim)

Sahl ibn Sa’d said that the Prophet was brought a cup and he drank from it. There was a boy, the youngest of all the people, on his right and some elders on his left. He said, “O young boy, will you allow me to give this to these elders?” The boy said, “I will not give away my share of your blessings to anyone, O Messenger of Allaah,” so he gave the cup to him. (Reported by al-Bukhaari, 2180)

Last night, at the conclusion of Torch Bearers, Sheikh Waleed had us stand in line to get our Ijaazah from him. To me, that ijaazah is not an equivalent of a college degree,or even a Phd, but more. It connects us to the Prophet sallaallahu alayhi wasallam via a chain of shuyuukh from which we learn from, and so, that Ijaazah matters a lot. At first, as we were standing in line, I admit to feeling a little apprehensive about my children.

Could they get the Ijaazah too? They’re just kids, way underaged. Such an important thing shouldn’t be given to mere kids, should it?

But I made Juju stand in line with me anyway. When her turn came, Sheikh Waleed did give her the Ijaazah. Since it was just the sisters’ line, I didn’t think of calling Zaza to join us, expecting him to stand in line with the men. It was only after Juju and I received the Ijaazah that I thought of telling Zaza to join the sisters’ line so we won’t be waiting for him too long. So he did.

Subhanallah. It was as if he was invisible! When his turn came, Sheikh Waleed called out,

“Any other sisters who hasn’t gotten their ijaazah?”

Rh came down and got hers, bypassing Zaza who was then just hanging by the Sheikh’s table. Then the Sheikh called the brothers and they formed a line. I told Zaza to go and not let anyone go in front of him. Again, it was as if he was invisible. The brothers cut him, the Sheikh appeared not to see him, and as I kept telling him to take his place, he came to me, hung his head down, and insisted that he didn’t want the ijaazah. I coaxed him, telling him that I will ask the Sheikh myself but he flatly refused, and he cried, but it wasn’t tears of sadness, it was tears of anger.

He no longer cared about getting the Ijaazah. He stomped out and I told him to get his binder.

“I don’t want it!”

Well, we went home without him getting his Ijaazah. When I asked him later why he was mad, his angry tears came again. Apparently, he was mad at the Sheikh for not seeing him. Whereas I was incredulous at the brothers for going in front of him. And I regretted not having Zaza with me. I thought that the people in that class would not be so callous as to ignore him like that.

Suffice it to say, I was pretty disappointed. It’s not about the Ijaazah anymore. it’s about how adults treat children. I do realize that the class is for adults, and that my kids are underaged but allowed by HQ to attend it. I realize that they might not understand the material as an adult would. But that is no reason to ignore them.

In this society, we have gotten used to putting our children in groups consisting of children their own age, their peers basically. In reality, and in my opinion, children gain more benefit hanging around good adults. They gain more maturity that way, and learn from the adults how to be an adult, even though they might still act like children at times. I am thankful that my children desire to attend the class even when they knew it was for a whole weekend, and what is amazing is that they actually stayed in class, even though they were tired and bored and sleepy. But, in all honesty, in all fairness to them as human beings, and not just because they’re my children, I don’t think they received their due rights as students in that class, we adults probably did. Subhanallah!

My children are not geniuses and I don’t expect them (realistically) to gain more understanding that anyone  else in the class, but I make dua that they did benefit from the class, inshaallah. And I pray that Zaza is not discouraged in attending another class in the future.

A take home lesson for me: I will make sure I am more merciful to my children and all children in general and not treat them as if they’re invisible. May Allah help me. Ameen.

Bustle, Bustle, Bustle!

Alhamdulillah, I already submitted my essay for the Mothering Across Culture anthology. Now that that’s done with, I have two small sections I am working on for the SISTERS winter issue. They had moved the dealine forward, which works well for me, since that frees me up to work on my prep for Ramadan, inshaallah.

I wanted to submit something to the Traveling Mamas anthology, and I have yet to finish my essay for the Mommy Bloggers anthology, but seeing as how I’m already short on sleep, I don’t think I should even attempt the essay for the Traveling Mamas, though in my heart, I’m really dying to.

I have to make dresses and skirts for the girls, which has been postponed long enough, and I have to continue prepping for Ramadan, clean the house, get ready for the Ramadan Certificate Course with AlHuda Institute, and the online Heart Serene, which I have decided not to let go. Torch Bearers is only less than 24 hours away, which means I have even less time to finish cooking for the whole weekend, but overall, I’m really excited about these classes, as I really feel that I need spiritual doses of Emanrush.

And if this is the last Ramadan we’ll be spending in Columbus, or the United States, I have to make sure I invite the sisters over on Eid and that will take more planning and preparations. So I guess I have my work cut out for me.

In the Pursuit of Cooking

Growing up, I never ate asparagus. Asparagus to me is a foreign vegetable, one that is not native to Malaysia (at least to my knowledge). I’m more familiar with vegetables such as Kangkung (water spinach), Pucuk Paku (wild fern shoots), Kacang Botol, Daun Pegaga (Pennywort), Bok Choy and the common ones like spinach, carrots etc.

In fact, to this day, I’m still not sure how to cook some vegetables commonly sold in grocery stores here in the United States. My Malaysian taste buds are pretty strong and I prefer the simple stir-fried Asian vegetables consisting of Bok Choy, Nappa Cabbage, and Kangkung (Ong Choy).

Yesterday however, I decided to experiment with the asparagus I had grabbed when we shopped at Whole Foods, just because I wanted to vary our ‘green consumption’. Before, I had sliced it and stir-fried it with chicken, but yesterday, I was moved to try and roast it.

Well, it involved googling, because I didn’t know how long it takes to cook asparagus, and while bustling in the kitchen, I hollered to the kids in the living room,

“Kids, please google ‘asparagus roast’!”

They have been googling stuff for me lately, and so they did.

“500 degrees and ten to 12 minutes!” they hollered back.

I intended to broil or bake it along with the Bake cum Broiled Marsala Chicken that was sizzling in the oven, but we ran out of aluminum foil, so I switched to sauteing them in a pan on the stove instead. Since I had some leftover Marsala marinade, I sauteed that in oil and then tossed in the asparagus, resulting in a very nice looking picture above.

The end result became an improvised dish: Baked cum Broiled Chicken Marsala with Asparagus. Yesterday was my first fast in Sha’aban, and boy was it hard! I spent 4 hours in the kitchen cooking (mostly impromptu thus the length of time it took) and prepping for Ramadan by making Satay spice paste and Ayam Rica Rica spice paste.

On top of being exhausted and atacked my some pain, Baby Zoa decided to nurse at Maghrib time, and thus I spent my Iftar drinking green jelly cincau in a half lying position on my bed while nursing a half asleep toddler. It was only after I prayed Maghrib that I got to dig in the food I had whipped up.

Alhamdulillah. I was pretty worried about my milk supply this Ramadan, since the days are longer than the previous years, but inshaallah, if I watch my food and fluid intake when we can eat, and supplement myself with the nursing tea I just bought, I should be fine.

I thought I would be able to read while cooking yesterday but was I wrong. The impromptu Sambal Terung (Eggplant cooked in Chilli paste) I decided to make plus the experimental asparagus along with the last minute pre-Ramadan prep threw me off. But alhamdulillah, even though I still have to cook today so that we have food to last us the whole weekend, it felt very productive yesterday.

This weekend will be filled inshaallah with Torch Bearers, hence the reason why I have to cook now so I won’t have to worry about whipping up lunch and dinner this weekend. We will also be having extra company, which I’m very looking forward to, so I need to make extra food.

Meanwhile, I guess I’ll sneak in speed reading my stack of books and gain a better understanding of the different methods involved in putting an infant to sleep, and hopefully I can submit my two articles by early next week, inshaallah!

Baby Step 1 - Ramadan Prep

I just spent about 4 hours in the kitchen this morning, cooking for today and preparing ahead for Ramadan. I stumbled across a short cut to cooking accidentally last year. My mother had come for Baby Zoa’s birth, and when we had the aqiqah, she was still here. Since we decided to cook the aqiqah meat ourselves, due to financial reasons, and I was still a few weeks postpartum, my husband cooked both lambs with my mother’s help.

My mother whipped up the Korma spice paste, consisting of the Korma ground spice mix, onions, garlic, ginger, and sauteed it with whole spices like cloves, cardamom, and cinnamon sticks. The amount filled half a stock pot. When the aqiqah was over, we still had some left over sauteed spice paste, and my mother put in in a container and tossed it in the freezer.

She only stayed here for three weeks, and after she left, I was in a mess, trying to juggle taking care of a month-old baby with three older children and cooking. It was ironically easier taking care of three young children close apart in age than three older children and one baby. My biggest problem was cooking. Years ago, when the three children were under the age of 3, we had stuck to a pretty regular routine. After Fajr, I would cook our lunch and dinner while hubby gave the three kids their morning baths. That pretty much eliminated the problem of toddlers pulling at my skirt and baby demanding nursing while I am in the midst of cooking.

With Baby Zoa however, I couldn’t seem to do what I did, and almost everyday, I would bustle back and forth in the kitchen while he cries for milk, which of course seems to be every few hours. It was very stressful. Almost screaming and pulling my falling hair out, I opened the freezer to see if there was anything that would speed up the cooking process. That was when my gaze fell on the container of sauteed Korma spice paste my mother had saved. To be honest, I really didn’t think much of it when she saved it.

So I defrosted it. And I cooked with it. That eliminated the onion and garlic peeling and cutting, and also the spice blending which I happen to abhor. To my delight, I realized that if I had those pre-cooked spice paste stocked up in my freezer, cooking would be much faster, and simpler, as the much hated step of peeling and cutting onions, garlic and whatever else is needed will be skipped. So I made my own spice pastes for other recipes, with much success, alhamdulillah. Now if only I could also pre-wash all my ram meat and chicken before chucking them in the freezer, that would eliminate another abhorred step in cooking: washing and preparing raw poultry and meat. I have seen a Malaysian couple do this after their poultry and meat grocery shopping, but I have never managed to do it, because post grocery trips are always exhausting for me.

This year, I’ve decided to employ this short cut introduced by my mother to save me some cooking time in Ramadan, so I can spend more time for ibadah and Quran, inshaallah. I just finished pre-cooking the spice paste for Ayam/Daging Masak Merah, and it feels great! At least I feel like I have accomplished something in my Ramadan preparations today, having brooded over it all week last week. Now all I have to do is finish writing up my sections on infant sleeping. Yes, alhamdulillah, SISTERS gave me the go and so far,  I am having fun writing it!

Here and There

When I looked out the small vacuum-sandwiched window, all I could see was a blur of opaque white. It had been more than a day’s journey. I was three months pregnant, and sorely missing my husband, who was already settling down in rainy Seattle.

The month was January 1997. We had set out on this long journey across the Pacific from tropical Malaysia to four-season United States in the beginning of Ramadan, landing smack dab in one of the possibly worst winters in Iowa. The blizzard forced us to hover in circles above the Chicago O’Hare airport before we could land. That Ramadan was my first Ramadan on foreign soil without family except for my unborn baby.

It has been eleven years since then, and ironically, I have never spent Ramadan in Malaysia since. Do I miss spending it in my home country?

In a way, yes I do, but to another extent, no I don’t. I grew up fasting 12 hour days in blazing heat. I grew up in the culture of Ramadan Bazaar, and looking forward to it as the end of the fasting day drew near. I remember the the smoky and spicy aroma of Ayam Percik. I remember the Ramadan bazaar din, consisting of a  smattering of droning machines, sellers’ shouts, and customer’s orders. I remember the heat cooped up in the long crowded aisles formed by canopied stalls selling Malaysian delicacies, which made the heat tolerable. I miss that.

Here, in the United States, Ramadan is completely different. The only family I have is my husband and children. I am the cook, thus I am the one furnishing the table with iftar. No Ramadan bazaars here, sorry. Malaysian food? Ahhh…that is where I wish I am back home. Nevertheless, Ramadans here have taught me the true essence of the holy month.

I not only get to spend it with other Muslims of various cultural backgrounds, thus giving me the opportunity to treat my taste buds with new tastes, but I also get to experience the spiritual part of Ramadan in a way that is different from back home. Let’s just say I have learned a lot about Islam since I set foot in the United States. Don’t get me wrong. I was raised a Muslim, though some people have asked me,

“What’s your Muslim name?”

I spent five full years in an Islamic boarding school. But what I learned about Islam here have taught me to be more careful about determining the sources of information about Islam. Islam and culture tend to mix a lot, especially in Muslim countries. But here in America, because of the diversity and setting, Islam’s true hue tends to shine through the various shades of cultural baggage.

Though of course, that is not to say that Islam in America is without any problems. We still have the 21 versus 11 rakaah tarawih debate, don’t we? Nevertheless, it’s easier to learn Islam when you are in the midst of so many differences as opposed to being in a place where only one way of practicing Islam is known and expected.

In my boarding school days, Ramadan nights were usually spent in tarawih which was held in the Great Hall, led by our Ustadhs. We would put on our white prayer garments, slip on our sandals, grab our prayer mats, and stroll in happy chatty girlie groups down the zinc-roofed corridors from the girls’ dormitories, past the blocks of classrooms all the way to the Great Hall where Monday assemblies were usually held. However, due to limited space, yes, even in the ‘Great’ Hall, one year, the school decided to hold the tarawih prayers in the open parking lot, under the star spangled night sky. I have to say that was one of my favorite tarawih experience in my high school years.

I still remember the flyers distributed to us at the beginning of Ramadan, consisting of the list of virtues of praying tarawih on night 1 all the way through night 29. Some of us lazier and mischievous school girls would refer to the list and choose which tarawih night to pray, and spend the rest of the nights either snoozing in the dorms or doing other things like hand washing dirty laundry, studying, or completing homeworks. It was not until later that I learned that the source of the list was weak, but being an Islamic boarding school in a Muslim country, it just doesn’t make perfect sense that such an erronous or weak information was distributed.

Growing up, I was used to breaking my fast by devouring the whole iftar meal right after the azan was called. Of course, that tends to make you heavier and lazier when it comes to prayer, and it was only until I spent Ramadan here with my husband, that I postponed the full meal until after the Maghrib prayer. Very interestingly, as true to what is always said about our stomach needing to gradually get accustomed to breaking up food after a long day of resting, I didn’t feel as famished after the prayer as I was at sunset. Over the years, that has become our family’s sunnah; to do as the Prophet sallallahu alayhi wasallam did; break our fast with water or dates, pray Maghrib and then eat the full meal. Subhanallah, when done this way, you tend not to eat as much as you would had you eaten the meal right at Iftar time.

Overall, the way I spend my Ramadans has evolved, and even though I do miss the gastronomical delights available in abundance in my home country, I also am grateful to Allah for giving me a different experience altogether, which has led to better changes, alhamdulillah. The arrival and memory of my Ramadans here in the United States highlight the changes I have embraced with regard to my practice of Islam. It’s a month in which even the harsh-tongued become nicer, and the non regular masjid attendees are more regularly seen at the masjid. It’s a month of blessing and more. Subhanallah!

I came here eleven years ago in the beginning of a wintry Ramadan with a baby in my womb and very naive. In a few weeks inshaallah, we will embrace Ramadan in the remaining dog days of summer and beginning of fall. I now have four children under our roof, alhamdulillah, and I would like to think that I am a bit wiser than I was eleven years ago. Depending on where we go next from here, this might very well be my last Ramadan in the United States. If it is, I will surely sorely miss spending Ramadans here.

To Outline or To Free Write?

Do you begin with an outline or do you begin by free writing and thus working backwards? I see myself as a pretty organized person when it comes to planning. I think I thrive on planning, be it what to cook for guests, or what to pack for a trip. Though planning tend to stress me out, I feel a lot better having a tangible reference list as a result. During my younger days of mothering, I would make weekly menus. It would take me a while to make the menu (my mother has the same problem of taking a long time figuring out what to cook), but once it was done, the week was easier to handle. In fact, my planning was such that I was able to dabble in cake decorating amidst caring for three children under the age of 4, while also keeping up with a daily exercise regimen and breastfeeding a baby.

With writing, I try to apply the same method, by making an outline for essays, stories or articles. Nevertheless, it seems that I tend to lean more towards free-writing, though outlines do help me with my bearings. I have written stories and essays from rough outlines, but I have also successfully written essays by free writing.

I recall reading an interview in the Writer’s Digest of a writer who would literally put together pieces of his writings to make up an essay or article. I notice myself doing the same thing, though I deal only with soft copies, utilizing several Microsoft documents. I am currently still working on the essay for the Mothering Across Cultures anthology, and amawaiting feedbacks from some friends. When I sent the essay to my husband for critique last night, he returned it and scratched my last few paragraphs.

I asked him why. He, being a researcher, said,

“It was running away from the topic.”

A previous feedback brought me to the obvious observation that I was trying to explore 3 issues in a 3000 word essay. I trimmed it but still touched on three issues. My husband suggested I do away with the third issue altogether.

That’s what happens when you work backwards. Had I faithfully followed an outline, I would have realized this sooner. Nevertheless, had I followed an outline, I would have felt smothered. I noticed that I would edit myself as I write when I followed an outline, though not all the time. Shutting down that inner editor can be difficult sometimes. You just have to be in the right frame of mind to let the words flow without the inhibitions of an inner editor.

So do I outline or do I free write? I guess, looking from my writings so far, I am better able to quell the inner editor by free writing. However, I have gotten stuck a number of times. You could say it’s the equivalent of getting lost on your trip to the North Pole. So in that case, I would sometimes revert to making an outline. So, maybe a combination of both? Free writing enables me to write my heart out, but outlining helps ground me to reality, and most importantly the word count.

Right now, I’m working on the essay for the Mommy Bloggers anthology. I started out with an outline, but then I ignored it and free wrote, but now I’m kind of lost. So I guess I’ll regain my bearings by making a new outline. Whatever works, Juli. Whatever works.

Even a Toddler Knows

MIL stayed here a month, and for a month, the kids had free access to junk food, and went out every day, several times a day. They had vacation. Not surprisingly, after MIL left, we saw the aftermath.

Baby Zoa loves going out. He loved going out even before MIL came, but since he just got his new walking legs when she was here, I guess he had grown to appreciate the joy of being outside from a totally new perspective.

Yesterday, he was toddling back and forth in the living room, muttering baby talk to himself, as usual. Big sister Ski was sitting at the swivel chair in front of the computer, doing her homework. Suddenly, Baby Zoa grabbed Ski’s light green hijab, toddled over to his big sister, and handed it to her, thus indicating that she should put it on so she could take him outside.

When Ski smiled and shook her head, refusing to put it on, thus implying that Baby Zoa was not getting an outing, Baby Zoa protested with a cry. The amazing thing is that this 15 month-old has managed to figure out a pre-requisite to outings; hijab on. Today, he did the same thing to his father. Toddling as usual, he picked up a dark purple hijab of Juju, toddled over to hubby, who was at the door, and offered it to him. We laughed of course, because obviously, hubby doesn’t have to put on the hijab, but Baby Zoa had made that association in his little mind.

It’s also amazing how he also made the association of prayer rug and prayer. We have been performing our prayers, five times a day with him around. Sometimes he weaves between our prostrating heads, sometimes he climbs over our prostating heads, and sometimes he squeezes himself between his brother’s legs when he’s standing in prayer. He has even managed to imitate our movements of bowing and prostrating, which looks more like downward dog in Yoga.

I feel very grateful for having a baby now. When I had the other three, they came one after the other in subsequent years, and I was too busy running after each one to savor and reflect on moments like these. Well, maybe I did manage to, but not as much as I am able to now.

Alhamdulillah, All Praises be to Allah, for He knows best what is good for me in this  life and there hereafter. Reminders of His Greatness is apparent in everything, even in my little toddling tot, mashaallah.

Mothering Across Cultures

I finally am almost done with the essay for the Mothering Across Cultures anthology. The feedbacks I have received have been very beneficial and I am now waiting for more feedbacks. Writing that essay has really opened my eyes to the matter of raising children in a different culture.

In the course of asking for critiques from hubby, one thing did come out; a concern over our children’s marriages. I wasn’t able to write on this issue in the essay because of the word limit, as I chose to focus on food and language, but I managed to mention the topic of Malay heritage and cross-cultural marriage towards the end.

Hubby expressed his concern over the possible further loss of our Malay heritage down the line. As of now, we’re already losing a chunk of our Malay heritage, since the kids don’t even speak Malay much or behave like a typical Malay, which to me personally, has its pros and cons. When they marry, regardless of whom, the loss will be further exacerbated. I was rather surprised that hubby has this concern, and as I thought about it, I began to understand his concern.

In the beginning, I was the stubborn typical Malay, not willing to budge and change the way I do things. He was the one who opened me up to accepting some changes where changes are necessary, when it comes to the practice of Islam. Having lived here in the United States for 11 years, we have been duly exposed to the stark raw form of Islam that is not tainted by cultural practices, some even paganistic rituals. Alhamdulillah for that. The thought of our children marrying cross-culturally never really bothered us, or at least, it never really bothered me. As long as they marry good practicing Muslims, I’m happy.

But I do understand the sentimentality associated with the possible loss of our Malay heritage. If they marry non Malays, the loss is great. If they marry Malays, they themselves, might not be Malay enough for their Malay spouses. There is still a loss of Malayness there. A friend sugggested a solution, which makes a lot of sense, but I will not limit them to that choice only. In the end, the choice to marry whomever rests on the individual who is to be married. I’ll let the kids decide, and may Allah guide them and us parents in this matter. Ameen.

Writing for SISTERS

The SISTERS editorial team presented some topic assignments, and one of them led me to the topic of co-sleeping. As I read The Family Bed, with much interest, such that I actually resorted to reading on my bed, while Baby Zoa was sleeping, with only the night light as my source of light, I discovered very interesting bits of information. I had researched the topic on the spur of the moment via Google, but didn’t come up with much stuff. The book however, provided me with a lot of food for thought.

I began to think,

Hmm, freelancing isn’t that bad.

I never thought I would freelance as a writer, for it scares me to agree to write on a topic I know nothing about. But as I experienced the joy of learning something new, the thought of freelancing seems appealing.  One day before MIL was to leave, a package arrived for me from Darussalam. As soon as I opened it, three copies of brand new glossy SISTERS fell out.

Mashaallah! I couldn’t help continuously browsing through them. They look so professional, and the contents are just amazing. Usually you’d be annoyed by advertisements, but as Muslims living in a non Muslim country, you feel grateful to see advertisements of Muslim businesses selling things you have trouble finding in a non Muslim country. Walhamdulilah!

MIL took one of the issues that has my article ‘I want to be a full-time mother!’ in it, so I only have two left.
Holding the print version of the magazine really does make a huge difference. Even though I now am a proponent of soft copies in order to avoid paper clutter in the home, I make an exception to this magazine. I prefer the print version. Definitely!

One lesson I learned about writing for magazines: study the magazine you want to write for very thoroughly. I started out writing for SISTERS when they were looking for writers a little after the time of SISTERS’ inception. It was the first time I had to write up a writer CV, and I didn’t have much writing experience back then. Alhamdulillah they accepted me though. Now that I have the chance to carefully read the magazine and study it thoroughly, I have a clearer idea of proposing article ideas to the editorial team. So far, I have proposed ideas based on their themes, and some topics they wanted written, and expressed interest in topics they needed writers for.

I already completed two articles for their upcoming Winter Issue, and am waiting for the ‘go’ for my proposed article on co-sleeping for the Issue after that, and am contemplating hatching up some article ideas for the issue after that, now that I have a clearer idea of the magazine’s content. Suffice it to say, I’m pretty excited. I hope they give me a ‘go’ for the co-sleeping article.

BellaOnline Looking for Islam Editor

I found this on Resources for Muslim Writers. As I clicked on the links in that post and go over them, I really marvel at Sis Amel’s resourcefulness in finding opportunities like these, mashaallah! This particular opportunity is very appealing to me, but I don’t want to gravitate towards that really tempting buffet while my plate is still heaping. It really appeals to me due to the dawah opportunity it provides, subhanallah.

BellaOnline is looking for an editor for the Islam section.