By Mehmudah Rehman

So! This is a really deeply vulnerable piece and this is the kind of stuff I don’t share. I’m only putting it up here because I’m hoping someone will relate with it and it will give them hope and strength and ease.
Happy reading,
Mehmudah

How Surah Al Asr rescued my homeschooling

There is a large rusted metallic box to the extreme right of my cupboard. It is battered in some places and in other places it carries dents and marks from it’s travels. It’s about as large as medium sized suitcase and it stays tightly shut with a rusted padlock. It has a foreboding air about it, and I try not to notice it whenever I open my cupboard. I’d rather focus on the lighter chiffons and silks and other things that make me feel light and happy. But today, I shall do the unthinkable.

With a screech I pull the box out of the cupboard and heave it on to the floor. My fingers, now orange because of the rust, shake a little as I fiddle with the padlock. With a dull thud, the lock opens, and the box swings open.

I shield my gaze from it’s contents, as though they will, by their very presence, hurt me but I gather some strength and nervously rummage through the box, wondering what I will find. On the deep left I pull out my old friend shame. I take one look at it and I feel warm under the collar. I drop it back in. Somewhere in the middle languishing calmly is another childhood friend, guilt. Hovering around at the top, covering all of the box’s contents, lies fear. This box, my friends, is called “Homeschooling” and buried in it are the feelings that I’ve tried my best to mask.

I force myself to explore the shame deeper – and it feels like I want to cover my face again. I really should have done better, it screeches. For the uninitiated, we started homeschooling at the beginning of 2024, and it wasn’t an easy decision. For reasons that warrant a whole new blog, we finally decided to pull the girls out.

Expectation and reality are often very different. In my mind homeschooling was going to be perfect. I would get the much needed time with my children, we’d have a cozy Quran and Seerah circle everyday, after which we would have deep reflective conversations. We would camp and hike and explore the outdoors together and because we were so flexible with our schedule, we would travel the world. We would be able to practice sport professionally, and learn skills like baking and embroidery and we would do volunteering and social work in the rural villages of Pakistan. Reality however, looks different.

My lovingly purchased Quran and Seerah books sit warming the shelves, while we fight about waking up early and study circles. Our one heartwarming discussion is put to rest by a poo accident from the youngest one. Travel is expensive, and it’s too hot to leave the house, let alone hike. And so my homeschooling dream was torn apart and instead of the dream, shame, guilt and fear began making inroads. I learnt to ignore them, and stashed them away in this wretched box.

The fear resides in there because of a line of very scary what-ifs and the guilt seems to suggest I should have done better. These three feelings seem to have an overarching effect of gloom and despondency and any voice of positivity is swiftly quelled.

It seems as though I’m not allowed to notice anything that DID go right. It seems as though I must shush about our big and small wins and I must certainly, certainly not be kind to myself. The idea is to notice how far other homeschooling families have gone and how I still take two steps forward and three back. The pressure one must create on oneself is such that it causes a sort of paralysis – how can one move? It is better to avoid the whole box of homeschooling altogether. The padlock must stay shut. Until today. Until my coach gently helped me face the contents of this box.

A strange calm dawns over me as I look at my emotions carefully, noticing them as though they were clouds rolling across the sky. I rummage deeper into the box and something white and silvery shimmers from beneath. Curious, I grab it and bring it to the surface. In my hand are the few most potent, complete and beautiful words I have ever heard.

وَٱلْعَصْرِ ١ إِنَّ ٱلْإِنسَـٰنَ لَفِى خُسْرٍ ٢ إِلَّا ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوا۟ وَعَمِلُوا۟ ٱلصَّـٰلِحَـٰتِ وَتَوَاصَوْا۟ بِٱلْحَقِّ وَتَوَاصَوْا۟ بِٱلصَّبْرِ ٣

By the ˹passage of˺ time!

Surely humanity is in ˹grave˺ loss,

except those who have faith, do good, and urge each other to the truth, and urge each other to perseverance.

These words of deep wisdom console me like only the Quran can. Surely man is in loss. The rat races, the comparisons, the passage of time, the alternation of day and night – every single person is losing. Like desert sand in a fist – even the most seemingly successful person is losing. But wait, there’s an exception. Only the people who do four things are not losing – they’re the winners.

Those who believe, those who do righteous deeds, and guide each other to the truth and patience and perseverance. Patience, perseverance, not perfection. Allah wants only simple things from us, it is we who burden ourselves to the point where we freeze.

Patience, gentleness, persistence. One small step. Making the climate within full of love and Eman. Of not dismissing any good deed no matter how tiny it may seem, as long as it is coming from a place of pure intentions. And remembering that ‘tawasi’ does not happen except with kindness. Of knowing that the receiver of my ‘tawasi’ or counsel is first and foremost me, myself, and if it is doled out judgmentally and harshly, it will only make the shame stronger and the paralysis more intense.

Surah Asr helps me understand that my goals are simple and achievable. That in the grand scheme of things, what matters is not how accomplished the girls become, but if their quloob (hearts) are sound. Speaking of hearts, there is something else in the box that calls for my attention.

As the brightness of Surah Asr begins radiating in the entire room, I notice something has started transforming. The vibe around the box is suddenly changing and the overarching feeling of despondency and hopelessness is shifting. Another light sparkles in the suitcase and I fish it out expectantly.

As soon as I hold it, I feel whole and special and loved. Because it is LOVE. The love that I had started this journey with, the love that informs every decision I make. The love of devotion to the One and Only and the intense love I have for my children. The love that covers them with care and compassion even as I falter and figure out the way to do this right. The love that inevitably touches their hearts and is far greater than any perfectly scheduled homeschooling day. The love that shines beneath my failures and successes, the love with which my fabric is in fact woven. Should I not be thankful?

As the love settles inside my heart, I notice another head shyly perking up – ah that looks like hope! Hope that this task is not insurmountable, and that His mercy supersedes everything. That there is still hope as long as we can do four things – have eman, Amal Saleh, and counsel each other towards truth and patience. It’s that simple.

Suddenly I feel like a huge load has been lifted off my shoulders, and I’m breathing better. I need not summit the Everest and I certainly don’t need to compare my journey with anyone else’s. All I have to do is to make a simple effort towards the four acts mentioned in Surah Asr and my work is done.

Subhana Rabbi Al A’ala!

He Who rescues us when we think we are lost. He Who sends people that gently open new perspectives and hold space as we explore. He Who reminds us that the true essence of life is the relationship between Him and you. He Who loves like only He can. Allah. Al Wadood. Whose words console and strengthen and guide. Who lifts us from darkness into light. Him, the One and Only.

Subhan Allahi Amma Yushrikoon.

This blogpost has been written by Sister Mehmudah Rehman. She is a writer, educator, and Certified Life Coach (CPCC) who helps women find clarity, purpose, and a deeper connection with themselves and Allah. With a background in education and as a student of the Qur’an, she combines prophetic wisdom with practical guidance, offering one-on-one coaching and workshops for women and teens to support more grounded and intentional living.