Last night it snowed in St. Louis and in the wee hours of the morning the snow became mixed with ice. As I got ready to leave the house to take my wife to the OBGYN clinic the streets were real nasty and having narrowly escaped from a bad accident just a few weeks ago I was cautious.
While I was trying to keep control of the vehicle on the slick streets, avoid being hit by maniacs driving fast, and listening to my wife tell me it must be 80 degrees in Texas right now, my mind was a million other places thinking of potential moves and what not.
I hate hospitals and going to them for any reason. This dislike of hospitals is only compounded when I have to sit in a dingy waiting room for hours watching Jerry Springer while making sure restless toddlers do not burn the joint down.
Alhmamdudilah we only had to be there for two hours today and we left with good news. On the way back I had to stop at the post office to take care of some business.
Unlike a lot of people I happen to think the US Postal Service is a highly competent and professional organization and am amazed by what they do. However, whenever I have to go to the post office I am reminded that there are a lot of idiots in the world.
Two guys asking a seemingly unending barrage of dumb questions held the line up. Just when the last of these idiots was about to get done and make way for me a lady came in the post office sobbing.
There are a lot of homeless who prowl this neighborhood and I thought she might have been one of them. Then her cell phone rang, and I know from experience that homeless people do not have cell phones as a rule. She answered the phone crying and loudly said “they kilt my baby” and everyone in the post office just looked up as she repeated “my son is dead, they killed my son”.
Having seen so many mothers cry like this in my lifetime at the death of their sons I was not all that shocked. And, the unfortunately reality is, no matter how much some may try and clean it up, St. Louis is a poor, dirty, and dangerous city. An older woman in line started tearing up, the lady behind the counter offered her tissue, and a fancily dressed Asian woman just kept sending text messages.
Leaving the post office I was told by my wife that another blogger contacted her sister and asked her how we were doing after the barrage of attacks on me over the last week.
I appreciated the concern of the brother; but he should know that Alhamdudilah I am fine. Allah blessed me with Islam. I am the first in my family to be Muslim and He blessed me to see past the kufr I was raised in. I was raised in the most powerful nation on Earth but have not bowed down to its power (like some Muslim leaders have) and only bow down to Allah. I have food while many starve, I have a home while many are homeless, I have a wife while many are lonely, I have a job while many are without work, I can read and write while many are illiterate, I have been blessed with a knowledge of the deen that does not allow for me to be swayed by charlatans and court jesters, and I have the love and friendship of many who I place a much higher value in than those who would mock me.
Just as many have attacked me there are many who have shown me love. Calling me and emailing me to voice their support and I will not forget them.
When I first started blogging I knew that I was entering an upper-class world and I am working-class. I knew I was entering a Muslim blogosphere dominated by Progressives and Traditionals (and the line between the two can often be blurry and is sometimes non- existent) and I am in neither camp. I knew that the Muslim blogosphere was a world were defense of the Islamic Revival and Movement ( and a love of) was almost non-existent and many had been led to put a separation between Islam and politics and I knew that Allah had placed in my heart a love for the Islamic Revival and the establishment of an Islamic State. I knew that many Muslim bloggers were effeminate and shied away from the manly and the aggressive nature of Islam and I have lived a life of combat (and been on the winning and losing side) and was given dawah by teachers who strove to turn gangbangers into mujahudeen.
So, no I am not upset at all. I have laid in pools of my own blood on more than one occasion, slept on the streets, had pneumonia in foreign mountains, survived horrific events, and seen things so shocking and brutal I will never forget, and therefore I know that this is not the worst thing that can happen to me.
Today that lady in the psot office who will have to burry her son is in a bad place right now and I pray that Allah guides her. As for me, Alhamdudilah I am feeling fine.