From: Saladin Sharif
From: Syeda Muneeba Masood
Rachel Noor - The Reversion Story
Stories of the New Muslims
I reverted to Islam in August of 1999. My first year as a Muslim has been
quite interesting. When a person first "reverts" to Islam, you are on this
emotional roller-coaster ride, where you have your days when you are so happy
to be a Muslim, and your days where you think that
life was so much easier as a non-Muslim, especially when you don't have a
strong community backing you up. Alhamdulillah, my up days have been more than
my down days, and I am happy to report that I no longer have regrets, just
memories, and the future is definitely looking brighter
than the past. With this said, here is my reversion story. Enjoy!!!!
In January of 1999, I can honestly say that my life was falling apart
piece by piece. I was 23 years old, married, with a new daughter that was born
in September, working a full time job in a Mexican restaurant while my husband
basically lived in Virginia while he attended college and worked. My husband at
the time was from India, and he had received his green card in January of 1999
and he had all of a sudden developed his own plans, none of which included me
or the kids. (I also have a six-year-old daughter, who at the time was five) He
was a Hindu, who originally came from New Delhi India. He decided to go there
and visit right away, and of course his family had their own plans for him. I
never really got the truth from his side, nor will I ever, but most people tell
me that his parents knew that he was married in the States, and they didn't
know about the kids or else they didn't care. They wanted their son married to
a traditional Indian woman, and that is what was important. My friends where I
worked knew of my situation, and had tried to warn me about him in their own
ways, but I refused to believe what was happening to me could be true. That was
until my life started falling apart.
The people that I worked with were mostly Indian and Pakistani, with an
American or a Mexican thrown in here and there for a nice ethnic mix. Most of
the people were Muslim, but not very religious in the sense that they had
become Americanized, but not all of them. There was a
Pakistani guy that worked in the kitchen. His name was Usman, and he was always
very quiet. I had worked with his cousin, Asjid, for years and we had always
gotten along. Usman was new to Casa Rico, and little was known about him except
he was Asjid's cousin, and that he was Muslim. One day after my husband had
gone to India, I basically had a breakdown mentally at my job. I knew people
that knew about my situation surrounded me, but were bound by custom not to
say anything to me. Usman had started talking to me about it little by little,
asking me about things since we often had break around the same time. He
promised that he would always be there to listen, and he promised not to judge
me.
One day I poured my heart out to him and I think it was a week later that
I had a mental breakdown at work. That day my thoughts were just pounding in my
head. I felt like such a failure, and i wanted to die. That night I went home
and i held some pills in my hand and decided
that I wanted to end it all. I had nothing to live for. I had been betrayed by
my husband and his family, the same people that I gave freedom to, I had two
daughters that I could not provide for and whose father didn't care about, I
hated my job, I couldn't go back to college because I couldn't afford it, the
list just went on and on. Most of all, I felt God didn't care about me. I used
to pray and pray that my situation would get better, but it only seemed to get
worse. I used to open that bible almost every night and search for the answers
to all my problems. Nothing related to my situation, my life did not relate to
God' word or God's plan. Then I thought about my kids, left all alone with no
one. How could I do it. I swallowed my pride, threw the pills, and called my
mom to take me to the hospital. I was broken and I needed help.
That night I was admitted to the psychiatric ward for severe emotional
stress. For two days I did nothing but cry and cry and cry. I did not sleep, I
did not want to eat, I just wanted to die. By the second day the hospital staff
got involved and they gave me medicine to sleep. I woke up 12 hours later with
swollen eyes and a broken heart, but I did feel somewhat better. I was ready to
listen. I opened the door and asked to speak to a counselor. The counselor and
me talked for three hours. I told her my whole story. She told me that peace
starts in the heart, and that struggle is a natural process. After she left I
wrote down all the things in my life that I wanted to change. I laid all goals
and choose to be a survivor, for my kids sake. Visitor time came, and the
nurse came to me and said that I had a visitor. I asked who it was and she
said, Usman. Man I was so embarrassed. But I let him in. He walked in and I
just started crying. He told me to be brave and talk if I wanted, but he had a
few things to tell me. I was ready to listen. He said
one statement that I will never forget.
"My country is filled with poverty and problems, but no one ever gets
depressed and tries to kill themself; do you know why?"
"No." I said. "Why?"
"Because the people in my country have Islam. They have the Quran, the
final word from God. This Quran answers all of your questions and more. It
will give you peace, if only you believe."
This was Usman's reply. I vowed to investigate Islam as soon as I could
get out of the hospital. That night I lay in bed and I thought about how my
life was destined to change, if only I could make it happen. If I only I knew
where to look and find the answers. I thought about
the Quran and how little I knew of Islam. I wondered about this mysterious
book and why hadn't more people heard of this "miracle?" I fell asleep with a
ton of questions swirling around my mind.
The next morning I met with my doctor. I couldn't believe it when I
walked into her office and stared right into the face of a Pakistani Muslim
doctor. I couldn't believe it. She talked to me about my depression and I
answered her questions as best as I could without crying. I told her that my
situation was just so embarrassing and unbearable. She recommended that I seek
regular counseling and prescribed an anti-depressant.
A moment of silence followed as she wrote out my release form. I took
that opportunity to ask her about Islam.
She took a moment, breathed in, and closed her book. She asked how I knew
of Islam and I told her I had friends. She smiled and said she would be happy
to give me any information that I would need to investigate this further. We
sat in her office for an additional hour talking about how Islam was a way of
life. She told me about Mohammed (peace be upon him) and how he is the final
messenger of God. She told me about how Islam was very similar to Christianity
and Judaism, except Muslims believe that your relationship is directly with
God, and that no one
should need to intercept this relationship. She told me how we are all
accountable for our own sins and that the people that do bad in this world and
do not believe in God will be punished by the creator of all things. And she
told me that Allah is the answer to all my problems, and that
the Quran is the best prescription for happiness. She told me to fill the
prescription for the anti-depressant, to investigate Islam, and to come and see
her or her staff if I had any other problems. She told me I would be all right,
and to keep in touch. She told me that with Islam,
I probably wouldn't need the medicine.
I left the hospital that day. I filed for divorce the next day. Most
importantly, I started my investigation of Islam wholeheartedly. I enrolled
Usman and my other Muslim friends in this quest for knowledge. Usman bought me
a ton of books to read, and I scourged through them
like nobody's business!!! One day, Usman took me and my children to a Pakistani
store to buy Islamic books. The storeowner was so excited to find that I was
interested in Islam. He gifted me my first Quran That night when I got home I
was so happy. I opened the Quran and started reading. I read until four am. I
just couldn't put it down. Surah-al Baqarah was intense. The Quran made me feel
like ....It was like God was talking to me!!! This indeed was the answer. The
Quran spoke of things that I had wondered all my life. What happens when you
die? Was Jesus God? Why did Jesus have to die for all of our sins, when it was
God who created us? Why would God die for us? The Quran spoke of proofs...it
talked of the rivers and oceans.. how they connect and how they remain salt
water and not salt water in certain areas. It talked about the cycle of life
inside the womb of the woman. How was Mohammed (peace be upon him, to know
of this? A unlettered man, a man that could not read or write? How could he
know things that were not known to man until recent centuries? The Quran spoke
of ships floating in the water, ships made of steel... Mohammed lived in a
desert. The Quran spoke of mountains being like pegs, deeper on the bottom than
it was high. These are proofs from God. And we should believe.
I wanted to be Muslim. This was what my life was for. To be Muslim. To be
God's slave. This is the truth.
I took my Shahadah in August of 1999.
This was the happiest day of my life.
My divorce from my husband became final in March of 2000. I had not seen
him for more than one year. I broke off all communication from him and have not
seen or heard from him since I became Muslim. He doesn't want anything to do
with the kids. I don't care. My kids have Allah, and they have me.
In April of 2000, Usman asked if I wanted to get married again. I told
him yes. We got married April 13, 2000. Things have been wonderful,
Alhamdulillah. My kids are doing great. I am in college full time. I will
graduate this May with my nursing degree. My husband is the one who helped me
convert to Islam. Allah is the best of planners. I guess I was in God's plan
after all.
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