How We Judge People

A story is told about a soldier who was finally coming home after having fought in Vietnam.

He called his parents from San Francisco.

“Mom and Dad, I’m coming home, but I’ve got a favour to ask. I have a friend I’d like to bring with me.”

“Sure,” they replied, “we’d love to meet him.”

“There’s something you should know the son continued, “he was hurt pretty badly in the fighting. He stepped on a land mined and lost an arm and a leg. He has nowhere else to go, and I want him to come live with us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, son. Maybe we can help him find somewhere to live.”

“No, Mom and Dad, I want him to live with us.”

“Son,” said the father, “you don’t know what you’re asking. Someone with such a handicap would be a terrible burden on us. We have our own lives to live, and we can’t let something like this interfere with our lives. I think you should just come home and forget about this guy. He’ll find a way to live on his own.”

At that point, the son hung up the phone. The parents heard nothing more from him.

A few days later, however, they received a call from the San Francisco police. Their son had died after falling from a building, they were told. The police believed it was suicide. The grief-stricken parents flew to San Francisco and were taken to the city morgue to identify the body of their son. 

 They recognized him, but to their horror they also discovered something they didn’t know, their son had only one arm and one leg.

The parents in this story are like many of us. We find it easy to love those who are good-looking or fun to have around, but we don’t like people who inconvenience us or make us feel uncomfortable. We would rather stay away from people who aren’t as healthy, beautiful, or smart as we are.

My Cruel Mother

I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate
candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others had cokes and candy for lunch, I 
to eat a sandwich. As you can guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also.

But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two
brothers are in the same world as I did.

My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute. 

I am nearly ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you imagine someone actually hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now you can begin to see how mean she really was.

We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends?

The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night
and up at eight the next morning for Fajr . The next day we couldn't sleep till noon like our friends.

She would make us to Offer Salah, gave moral islamic education and taught Quran. Sometimes my mother actually had the nerve to break the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.

She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and
nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.

By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for us to come running.

NO dating and sleepovers with friends

Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie
in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends
had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends' report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for nothing less than ugly black marks.

As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put
to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the pleasure of being a drop-out.

My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four
children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my brothers served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a million and one other things that our friends did.

She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults. Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three
children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my
children call me mean.

Because, you see, I thank ALLAH Taala
He gave me the "meanest" mother in the whole world.

And I love her more than anything.

The Two Pots

THE CRACKED POT

Once there was a water bearer in India with two large pots, each hung on each end of a
pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in
it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion
of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house,
the cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only
one and a half pots full of water to his master's house. 

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for
which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own
imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of
what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a
bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.


"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."


"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"


"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.


The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."


Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.


The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side?


That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them.


For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots. But find strength in our flaws.


In God's great economy, nothing goes to waste.


So as we seek ways to heaven together, and as God calls you to the tasks He has appointed for you, don't be afraid of your flaws.


Acknowledge them, and allow Him to take advantage of them, and you, too, can be the cause of beauty in His pathway.

Go out boldly, knowing that in our weakness we find His strength.

"In Him every one of God's promises is a Yes."

THE OBSTACLE IN OUR PATH

 

In ancient times, a king had a boulder placed on a roadway. Then he hid himself and watched to see if anyone would remove the huge rock. Some of the king's wealthiest merchants and courtiers came by and simply walked around it.

Many loudly blamed the king for not keeping the roads clear, but none did anything about getting the big stone out of the way. Then a peasant came along carrying a load of vegetables. On approaching the boulder, the peasant laid down his burden and tried to move the stone to the side of the road. After much pushing and straining, he finally succeeded. 

As the peasant picked up his load of vegetables, he noticed a purse lying in the road where the boulder had been. The purse contained many gold coins and a note from the king indicating that the gold was for the person who removed the boulder from the roadway. The peasant learned what many others never understand.

Every obstacle presents an opportunity to improve one's condition. 

Believe in God, he won't give you a test that you couldn't bear. As long you have faith in Him. keep trying and He shall reward you. 

Cherish

It's just a short reminder to all of you working so hard in life.

We should not let time slip through our fingers without having 
spent some time with those who really matter to us,
those close to our hearts.

You can easily find money,
but it's hard to find someone that loves you,
and willing to give everything for you.

If we die tomorrow,
the company that we are working for
could easily replace us in a matter of days.

But the family and friends we leave behind
will feel the loss for the rest of their lives.

And come to think of it,
we pour ourselves more into work than to our family. 


"Loving family and good friends are worth more than anything"

‘The friends shall on that day (of judgment) be enemies of each other except those who guard against evil.’(Zukhruf : 67)