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Carla, a Former Roman Catholic (part 3 of 3)
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Description: How a mother of five children discovered Islam at the age of 67. Part 3: Role of her son.
By Carla (islamicbulletin.org)
Published on 24 Jan 2011 - Last modified on 14 Feb 2011
Viewed: 3885 (daily average: 8) - Rating: 4.7 out of 5 - Rated by: 18 Printed: 341 - Emailed: 9 - Commented on: 3
Category: Articles
> Stories of New Muslims
> Women
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I visited my daughter in Saudi Arabia and fell in love
with the country, the weather, and the people. I didn’t want to leave after
the 6 months so I requested an extension. I would hear the athan (call
to prayer) 5 times a day and would see the faithful ones close their shops and
walk off to prayer. Although that was very touching, I continued reading from
my Bible every morning and evening and would constantly say the rosary. Not
once did my daughter or any other Muslim person ever speak to me about Islam or
try to get me to convert. They respected me and allowed me to practice my
religion.
My son was coming to Saudi Arabia to visit me. I was so
happy—I had missed him so. No sooner did he come was he again after me,
talking religion and the Oneness of God. I was angry. I told him that I have
been in Saudi Arabia for over one year and not once has anyone ever spoken
about religion to me. And he, on his second night here, is so quick to begin
the preaching. He apologized and again told me how much he wanted me to accept
Islam. I again told him that I would never leave Christianity. He asked me
about the Trinity and how could I believe in something that just did not make
any logical sense. He reminded me that even I had questions about this. I
told him that everything does not have to make sense—you just have to have
faith. He seemed like he accepted this answer and I was happy that I finally
won a discussion on religion. My son then told me to explain the miracle of
Jesus to him. Aha, I thought! I am finally getting somewhere. I explained the
miracle birth of Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Jesus dying for our sins, God
breathing His Spirit in him, Jesus as God, Jesus as the Son of God. He was
quiet the entire time I was talking—no rebuttal—my son, quiet? He then quietly
asked, “Mamma, if Jesus died for our sins on a Friday, and then as you say, he
was resurrected three days later on a Sunday, then who ruled the world for
those three days? Mamma, explain that to me?” I thought about the logic to this
question and at that moment, I knew that it did not make any sense.
I said, “Jesus was the son of God. Jesus and God are
one and the same. My son replied, “Cows have calves; little cows. Cats have
kittens; little cats. Humans have children; little humans. When God has a
son, what is he? A little God? If so, then do you have two Gods?” Then he
asked, “Mama, can you ever become a God?” What a ridiculous question I told
him. Humans can never be a God. (Now, I was really getting angry) He then
asked, “Was Jesus a human being?” I replied, “Yes.” He then said “Therefore,
he could never be God.” The claim that God became man is also an absurdity. It
is not befitting of God to take on human characteristics because it means that
the Creator has become His creation. However, the creation is a product of the
creative act of the Creator. If the Creator became His creation, it would mean
that the Creator created Himself, which is an obvious absurdity. To be
created, He would first have to not exist, and, if He did not exist, how could
He then create? Furthermore, if He were created, it would mean that He had a
beginning, which also contradicts His being eternal. By definition creation is
in need of a creator. For created beings to exist they must have a creator to
bring them into existence. God cannot need a creator because God is the Creator.
Thus, there is an obvious contradiction in terms. The claim that God became
His creation implies that He would need a creator, which is a ludicrous concept.
It contradicts the fundamental concept of God being uncreated, needing no
creator and being the Creator. Knowing I did not have an answer to him, I
replied, “Let me think about the answer.”
That evening, I thought long and hard about what my son
said. The idea that Jesus as the son of God did not make sense to me anymore.
I also could not accept the fact as Jesus and God being one in the same. Before
going to sleep that night, my son told me to pray to God before going to sleep
and ask Him alone to guide me to the right path. I promised my son that I
would sincerely supplicate to God for the answer. I went to my room and read
from the book my son had given me. Next, I opened the Holy Quran and began to
read. It was if something had been lifted from my heart. I felt different. I
saw the truth in Islam. What had I been fighting against all these years?
That night I prayed to God alone—not to Jesus, not to
Mary, not to the angels or saints or Holy Spirit. Just to God I cried and
asked for guidance. I prayed that if Islam was the right choice to please
change my heart and mind. I went to sleep and the next morning I woke up and
announced to my son that I was ready to accept Islam. He was astonished. We
both began to cry. My daughter and granddaughter were called out and watched
as I submitted, “There is no God except Allah and Muhammad is His Messenger and
Last Prophet.” I felt a changed woman. I was happy, as if someone had lifted a
veil of darkness from my heart. Everyone who knew me couldn’t believe that I
had converted. Sometimes I couldn’t even believe it! But Islam felt so right,
so peaceful, so serene!
After my son left back to the states, I learned how to
recite Surah-al-Fatiha in Arabic and have since learned how to perform
the prayers. I continued with life as before; except now I am a Muslim. I
always loved attending family gatherings with my daughter, and social events as
well. I would attend family and friends weddings, henna parties, baby showers
(aqiqah) and the gatherings when someone died. About 6 months after I
had converted to Islam, I was at a funeral gathering that really touched my
heart and reinforced what a beautiful religion Islam is. A young boy had died
from a sickness. As my daughter was getting ready to leave for the
condolences, I asked her if she knew the family well. She answered that she did
not. “Then why go?” I asked. “Because the family is grieving, and it is my
duty in Islam to go and perhaps offer any support that I can.”
I decided to dress and go with her. I went along with
my daughter to pay condolences to the boy’s family and was overwhelmed at the
number of people in attendance. I was surprised and touched that so many
people came to give the family support. All I could think of as I saw the
family grieving was what a beautiful religion Islam was that so many people
felt it their responsibility to give their support. And that one event, where
Muslims were showing an outpour of sympathy is another moment that proved the
beauty of Islam.
I have been a Muslim for three years now, Alhamdullilah
(All praise is to God). Since that time, I have performed Umrah twice
with my son and daughter. My son, daughter and I visited the Kabaah and
the Holy Prophet’s Mosque in Madinah. I have just turned seventy
Alhumdullilah. Sometimes
I think back to all the hardship and heartache that I must have caused my son,
but my son was extremely happy to serve me by also being a means to bring me to
Islam. He then said, that the Prophet, may God praise him, told a person, “Paradise
lies under the feet of mothers”. The meaning of the Hadith is that you
should serve your mother and take good care of her. It is for sure by being at
my feet that there was paradise for both of us. I also wonder if my daughter
would have applied a little pressure on me, I might have become a Muslim sooner.
But my son reminded me that God is the best of planners. And it is only He
that can give a person Hidaya (Guidance).
“Indeed it is not such that you can guide whomever you love,
but God guides whomever He wills.” (Quran 28:56)
The best thing that God had honored me is by guiding me
to the path of Islam and making me a Muslim, and inshAllah (God-willing)
enter together with my son in Paradise. Ameen
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