It is after Fajr and I just returned from the mosque. I went with my parents as I spent the night at their house. I love suhoor at my parents simply because there’s so many memories of past suhoors swirling around in the air. My dad always tries to convince me to try his NEW cereals, my mom always makes her milkshake and I always just drink my tea and have a piece of wholy (whole-grain) toast.

So on the way to the mosque every fajr, my father regularly gives a ride to one of the best men of this world presently (I believe and pray it is so). He is a true mentor. He is always in motion, helping. When you first look at him, he appears fierce because of the lines on his face but then everything dissolves – with the appearance of a wide smile – into his natural state of benevolence. He is 76 years old.

He does straightforward, wonderful things which leaves behind stamps of his kindness. He came by one summer (on his bike – he bikes everywhere) to water and take care of my mom’s prolific vegetable garden while she was away and with the invention of such a simple contraption, fixed the swinging high fence gate which had resisted being repaired for so long. Every time I see the smart latch he put together when I pull into their driveway, I remember his persistence to leave everything a little better than he found it.

If I know he’s going to be somewhere, I’m more eager to be there myself. Just saying salaam to him makes my day. Do you believe sometimes you can tell someone is a person of jannah?

May God reward all his good deeds abundantly.

On another note, I was able to do my first run of Ramadan yesterday and alhamdulillah it went well. So, insha’Allah, I think I will take part in the CIBC run for the cure (Breast Cancer) happening at the end of the month that my friend Amie was trying to get me to join her team for. Other fasting Muslims have signed up as well (hey, it’s the month to multiply the blessings) so I think it should be ok insha’Allah. And I heard that with the amount of people who turn up, it’s more of a walk than a run. (Dad: I hope you’re not reading this.)

On a better note, a Tahajudd “Aha” moment: well, this “aha” occurred to me earlier, a few weeks back but I was able to reflect on it a bit more last night. I found out my greatest fear. When things changed in my life, I started on a road of unknowns – and fear, of course, pokes its medusa-like head out at such times. I was fortunate that each of my worldly fears were addressed through God granting me the sudden strength to face them one by one. And of course through it all, I learned that a Mu’min does not live with worldly fears. There are greater fears – one of which I just discovered: the fear that I will forget to remember Him, thank Him and turn to Him.