Teaching Myself

We were at some friends' apartment last night for a feast and a halaqa. I hadn't actually prepared the kids with things to occupy them while we have the halaqa, so it's no wonder that they were bored and ransacked the house.

There we were sitting in a circle, reciting Quran, when a loud bang came from the room. I got up and went to see what damage my children had done to the host's apartment. When I entered the room, a sight I hadn't been prepared to face greeted me. The top of a coffee table was lying askew off the table's base and N was right in the middle of the mess.

Anger consumed me. My mouth started to berate them, while my hands worked to fix the damage done. Then it occurred to me that the kids needed something to occupy themselves with. So I asked for the host for some papers and pen.

I left them with their papers and pen. A few minutes later, S came out and whispered to me that N took another paper out and was crumpling the rest. I had told them explicitly before I left the room,

"Just one paper each."

So when S came with the news, I was again sparked with anger at N. It wasn't free paper. That was why i had told them just one paper each. Apparently N was rebelling against me for berating her earlier and leaving her with a meager amount of 'distraction'. S had probably also told her to just be content with one paper, and she had probably rebelled against her big sister too. At a loss, the big sister came to me.

I sat in the room with them, angry at N, really angry at her for disobeying me and for being difficult. Suffice it to say, I lost the wisdom of being a parent at that moment. The wisdom that I never possessed in the first place. I would be lying if I say that I'm content with my competence as a parent. Only Allah knows how desperate I am to be bestowed the wisdom and patience of being a parent to three very different children. I must have sat in the room with them a good 15 minutes or so, all the while repeating the same reprimand to N, who was reduced to weeping in anger. I asked her,

"Did you do anything wrong?"

She shook her head. I was burdened with worry. How could she not think she didn'd do anything wrong. I asked her again.

"What you did just now. Was that wrong?"

She nodded. Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. I prodded her on.

"How do you feel about that?"

"Angry," she said determinedly, her hands working furiously inside her shirt. She was obviously angry for my anger towards her. I totally understood how she felt, because that was how I felt whenever my father leashed his anger at me, regardless if it was my fault in the first place. Something in my mind clicked. My voice softened. I asked her again,

"If somebody came to our house, and broke your bed, how would you feel?"

"Mad," she said.

"Why?" I asked. I finally got her to respond to me albeit it in a grudging manner.

"Because I can't sleep on the bed anymore," she said.

"So how do you think the auntie will feel now that you broke her table?"

"Sad," she said, Her voice had softened too.

"As Muslims, we don't want our Muslims sisters and brother to feel bad. We want to make them feel happy. So what can you do to make her feel better?"

She was mute. I asked her again.

"Sorry," she finally said.

By then, all my angry tirade had dissipated, and surprisingly her rebellion too. I took her in my arms and stroked her back, telling her to say sorry to the auntie, whose table she had broken. She wept and her body racked with her sobs.

I returned to the halaqa calm and thankful to Allah. At the time I had most needed the wisdom, He had given it to me. I might not yet grasp the wisdom in my hand, but the event left me still reeling from the effect of the art of parenting. Before we left for home, I whispered to N, reminding her of what she needed to do before we left. She had remembered and actually apologized, albeit it be a tiny whisper. My heart soared when the auntie said,

"Sorry for what? Oh, that's okay."

I didn't actually hear her apologize, for I didn't want to make her feel pressured to do it, so i had moved away and concentrated on putting on my coat, leaving her to carry out the task herself, out of her own choice.

In that room that night, Allah had given me a little peek into the pleasure and reward of being patient and having wisdom. I don't know if I will be able to replicate the actions I committed in that room, that induced things to turn around for the better, but I now know what a little wisdom and patience can do.