Raising Children - Part 1

The following is an interesting read on Islamic parenting, which I received via email forwards. Since it's quite long, I'm breaking it to two parts. Credits to the author, Hina Khan-Mukhtar.

Raising Children in Deen and Dunya

I still vividly remember the first night I spent by myself in the hospital after delivering my eldest son Shaan. The guests were gone for the day, the hallway lights were dimmed, the nurses were speaking outside my room in muted tones.

"Knock, knock!" came a cheerful voice from the doorway. "Someone's hungry and wants his mommy!"

The nurse wheeled in the crib that held my newborn, only a few hours old at the time. She cooed over him as I struggled to sit up, then efficiently handed him into my waiting arms, bustling out of the room after giving me a few words of encouragement.

I pulled the blanket away from his cheek and smiled in awe at this fragile, little creature who was being left alone with me for the first time ever. I felt privileged to be trusted with his care, overwhelmed with the weight of responsibility. No one was watching over my shoulder; he was all mine and I could do whatever I wanted.

I felt it was an appropriate time to take care of something that no one had thought of arranging so far — introductions.

"Assalaamu alaikum," I whispered to the warm bundle nestled against my chest, "I'm your mommy." I stroked his face and then asked the rhetorical question that every mother has asked since time immemorial. "Now…how am I going to raise you?"

It's a question that I have continued to ask since that first magical night in the maternity ward.

I've asked it of grandparents, parents, sons, and daughters. I've asked it of Pakistanis, Indians, Afghans, Arabs, Americans, Asians, and Africans. I've sat people down at parties, emailed friends' parents, called up aunties on the telephone, and stopped uncles on their way out the door. Any family whose practice of Islam has impressed me, any child whose manners have stunned me, any teenager whose conduct with his or her sibling has given me reason for pause, any adult whose balance of deen (religion) and dunya (world) has wowed me, I have accosted and asked,

"What exactly did your parents do with you?!"
"How did you raise your children?!"
"I beg you, tell me the secret of bringing up Mu'mineen like the ones I see in your home!"

What I have found in my years of "field research" is that nearly all of these families have stumbled upon the same basic secrets to success. While many of them don't necessarily know one another, time and time again they have given me the same advice, the same tips, the same rules. I would catalogue their stories in my head, thinking I could easily remember them later. So when I was recently approached with the request for an article on Muslim parenting tips, I jumped at the chance to put it all down in writing and thus preserve the valuable insights I have gathered over the course of the past twelve years or so.

Here then, for my benefit and yours, are the tips from the "experts", the tried-and-true heroes who have worked hard at (and, insha'Allah, succeeded at) securing their children's minds, hearts, and souls. These words come from those parents — like you — whose primary purpose in life has been to direct their sons and daughters onto the Path they believe will earn them the Pleasure of their Creator and the respect of their fellow human beings. Some of the advice may seem "common sense", the type you could hear on any daytime talk show or read in any self-help book. Other tips genuinely surprised me at how specific and unyielding they were in their insistence that "This is the only way". While there has been a whole variety of advice given to me, I have noticed a pattern emerging where the same ten "Rules of the Game" seem to keep reappearing in different shapes and forms; it is those dominant tips that I have chosen to focus on for the purpose of my article.

I have seen with my own eyes children under the age of ten who willingly set their own alarms to get up for Tahajjud prayer. I have hosted a young soccer marvel in my home who begins his day before mine by reciting Quran at Fajr. I know of an Ivy League university student who insisted on turning the car around because she realized she had left home without giving her mother salaams. I have been acquainted with doctors who make more money in a single month than most people make in a single year yet choose to live in small homes with no mortgages so that their salaries can be spent supporting scholars of Islam. My husband and I work with a young man who once flew with his mother to Jordan, then turned around and returned on the next flight home — all of this so that his single mother didn't have to travel across the world alone. I have witnessed fourth graders who were able to sit quietly with impeccable etiquette in front of Muslim scholars while the adults around them stretched, yawned, and sighed. I have heard children silence their young friends with urgent reminders, "Don't say that about him! It's backbiting!"

A sign of someone whom Allah loves is that when you see him/her, you remember Allah. The examples I have listed here are all people who have caused me to wonder about my own station with Allah in relation to theirs; they have motivated me to at least try to change, to improve. I'm sure readers will agree that, although Allah Alone knows the hidden reality of hearts, these people at least seem to have triumphed both in their embodiment of the true spirit of Islam and in their practical participation in the dunya. I pray that Allah Subhana wa Ta'ala will continue to send examples like them into our lives so that we may continue to learn and implement that which draws us closer to Him. Aameen.

1.) Dua, Dua, Dua

"None of this is from us," insists one mother of three UC Berkeley graduates who have never voluntarily missed a single prayer. "Everything begins and ends with dua. It is only by His Generosity that we have been blessed with believing children; we had nothing to do with it. Now that we have it, we try to hold onto it by showing gratitude and not taking it for granted."

Every single family I have "interviewed" about raising children in this day and age inevitably began by reminding me about the power of supplication. "Every success I have seen in my family's life, I can remember having prayed for it first," admits one grandmother of three huffadh (memorizers of Quran). "If my dua doesn't come true in this world, I have faith that it will in the next one, so I have patience."

Another mother of four tells me, "I recited Surah Maryam every single day of my pregnancy. I want pious children above all else — it's all that matters."

A convert friend of mine suggests that couples who are about to embark on the path of parenthood should ask themselves, "Why do we even want children?" She believes in renewing one's intentions on a daily basis. "Who are we doing this for?" When she gets embarrassed by something her children say or do, she questions herself, "Why am I upset? Is it because I'm afraid that they're doing something displeasing to Allah? Or is it because I'm afraid that they're displeasing people?"

Her unwavering dua is that her children live their lives seeking only His pleasure.

Many families shared with me their reliance on Salaat-ul-Istikhaar a (Prayer for Guidance) before making any major life-altering decisions and Salaat-ul-Haajah (Prayer for Need) when desiring something they felt was crucial for their children's well-being.

"All that I have is due to my mother's duas," believes one mother of five children. "She was the one who was always praying for us, even when we forgot to."

2.) Suhba (companionship) will make you or break you.

"There were times we sacrificed our own friendships in order to do what was best for our children," a couple married for sixteen years tells me. When pressed for reasons why one would end a relationship, they explain, "Before we had children, we had friends who `drank socially', who played poker, who hosted dance parties. Once our kids were born, we avoided those types of atmospheres. Our social gatherings are now the type where both the respected elders and the innocent children feel welcome and comfortable. "

"It doesn't necessarily need to be that it's the `drinking, gambling, partying crowd' that is holding you back," muses a mother of elementary school children upon hearing the couple's history. "I have one set of `dinner party friends' who believe in a `children should be seen and not heard' philosophy. They plant the kids around TV sets and video games while the parents socialize in other rooms. Then I have another group of friends who engage their children in the adult conversations, who don't keep the younger ones `out of sight, out of mind'. It's not much of a mystery which set of adults my own kids prefer to be around."

"Sometimes I look around at the people I hang with and I think `What happened?'" laughs a mother who has chosen to homeschool her three kids. "None of these people are the type I would have chosen as friends when I was younger, but I admire the way they live their lives and crave the peace and tranquility they trail behind them everywhere they go. They have a sense of purpose and an awareness of Allah in everything they do. I want to pass those qualities on to my own kids, so here we are."

"Suhba is of the utmost importance. If you sleep with the dogs, don't be surprised if you rise with the fleas," a respected scholar advises. The words that struck me the hardest with their wisdom? "When you sit with People of the Dunya, you become a drop in their ocean, but when you sit with People of the Akhira, the dunya becomes a drop in your ocean."

"A person is known by who their friends are," my mother always reminded us.

"I had a girlfriend whose company I really enjoyed," remembers one mother wistfully. "She was the best person to share a cup of tea with, to go shopping with." So what happened? "She and her husband decided that they weren't going to raise their children as Muslims. Even though we liked each other a lot, we just didn't see eye to eye on what was appropriate for kids. There were certain behaviors in her home that were complete anathema to us. I decided that I couldn't have an independent friendship with the mom; at some point her kids were going to start influencing my kids, and we needed to part ways…so we did."

One father confesses with a sheepish laugh, "I don't know if our children are so God-conscious because of anything we necessarily did. My nieces are very spiritual young women, and my own daughters were always drawn to them. I think we got lucky that our children wanted to follow in their older cousins' footsteps."

"On the Day of Judgment, you'll be standing with the ones you loved most in the dunya," reminds another well-loved scholar, "so choose your friends wisely."

More than one parent has gushed about the power a charismatic aunt or uncle, imam, halaqa leader, or Sunday School teacher has had over their young ones. Many of the adults gave up a good portion of their weekends, driving long distances to take their children to gatherings and events where they hoped their children would benefit from being around like-minded people. "I firmly believe that no friends are better than bad friends," states a father of five childen, "but I did go the extra mile to make sure that my kids did have friends with whom they connected."

"Sometimes kids start to tune out what the parents say because it's all been said before," a mother of a middle schooler smiles. "My own parents told me to pray all my life, but it wasn't until I connected with an articulate teacher who explained how prayer was for our benefit that I finally got the message…and it was my friends who led me to that teacher."

3.) The Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) was a living, breathing reality in our lives.

"What better suhba is there than one who reminds another of the deen? Can there be a better `companion' than the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam)?" asks a UCLA graduate married to a doctor who also does interfaith work for Islam.

When a learned scholar was recently asked, "What should we teach our children?", his response was swift and unequivocal — "The seerah (biography of the Prophet) and nasheeds (devotional songs of praise). If your kids love the Prophet, they will automatically love Allah."

"The best way to call people to Islam is to have them fall in love with the Prophet," insists another scholar. "Children should fear and love Allah, but teach them about the love first. They can learn about the fear when they're older. And who loved Allah more than the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam)?"

An eight-year-old recently burst into tears when he realized that his mother had neglected to wake him up for the Fajr prayer. The adults who were present exchanged glances, wondering what kind of terror the parents must have driven into this young one's heart. Was he afraid that Allah was going to punish him? Did he think he was going to burn in hell? Upon inquiry, the child revealed that the real cause of his distress was the knowledge that he had neglected something the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) took very seriously, something he had exhorted the believers about on his death bed. Needless to say, the mother has been vigilant about waking her son on time for prayer ever since.

Many of the parents made it a regular part of the daily routine to recite the sunnah duas — the duas for beginning and ending meals, the duas for entering and leaving the home, the duas for studying — until it became automatic. It isn't a surprise for guests in their homes to see children as young as three reciting the dua for traveling as they get strapped into their car seats. "We didn't minimize any sunnah in our home," one Pakistani-American father tells me. "Once you start to think, `Oh, that sunnah isn't a big deal; we can ignore it', you've entered dangerous territiory. What comes next?"

"A co-worker recently asked me to name one thing that makes Islam different from other faiths," my brother-in-law once shared with me. "Among other things, I told him that with Islam I got a prophetic example for how to live my day-to-day life. No other prophet's life is so carefully recorded as our Prophet's (salallaahu alaihi wasallam)."

With toddlers and pre-schoolers, I noticed that a lot of the parents mentioned the Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) as if he were a relevant person in their lives. They talked about him the way one would talk about any respected elder whom the child adored. It wasn't unusual to hear parents telling their little ones, "The Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) loved green, so let's wear our green clothes for Friday Prayer!" or "Prophet Muhammad (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) taught us that we should sit down when we get angry, so let's sit down since you're feeling so frustrated."

While visiting my sister in Southern California one weekend, I noticed that an English translation of Imam Tirmidhi's "Shama'il" (Characteristics) sat on my six-year-old nephew's beside table. She informed me that it was part of their son's bedtime ritual for her husband to share one hadith from that famous ninth century text with him. "Knowing personal things like the fact that the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) liked to eat dates with cucumbers makes our son feel like he actually knows the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam)."

"Today's generation is so fortunate, masha'Allah, " says one grandmother. "When our children were younger, there was hardly any quality Islamic literature or media out there. Today's kids have so many choices! My grandchildren go through a different seerah book every year. They are constantly humming new songs about the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam). I pray that they always find joy in learning about (and then following) their Prophet, insha'Allah. "

4.) Having fun wasn't "haraam" in our home, but we kept the home environment as pure as possible.

It would be extremely remiss of me if I failed to mention that every single family I interviewed emphasized the need to severely limit exposure to entertainment media — television in particular, but internet and video games included. There were some families who didn't have a television set in the house at all, while there were others who allowed their children to watch pre-screened Saturday morning cartoons or a family night movie. Computers were always set in a public area of the house where email exchanges and internet research were conducted on a set schedule under the watchful eyes of involved parents.

"If Shaytan (Satan) were to ring our doorbell and ask if he could come in and babysit our children, we would throw him out," one scholar says, "yet we allow the television set to do exactly that…we literally invite Shaytan in when we turn the TV on!"

"Preserving my children's fitra (primordial state) is of the highest priority to us," one mother of two pre-schoolers tells me. "Right now, the difference between right and wrong is so clear in their eyes; they really get it when we explain what's what to them. The entertainment industry's depiction of what's `normal' manages to confuse adults, so just imagine what it does to children!"

"We're Indian, but we never watched Bollywood films in our home," a friend admits matter-of-factly. "We didn't have bhangra dance parties; we didn't wear revealing clothing like skimpy saris and sleeveless blouses; we weren't allowed to be overly chummy with our guy cousins."

Basically, what she's letting me know is that what is often excused as "culture" was not allowed to contradict the Islamic shariah her parents taught her to respect.

"But don't think we were bored or deprived!" she is quick to reassure me. "My parents inculcated in us a love of Urdu poetry. We read classic English literature aloud to one another in the evenings and went on father-daughter hikes in the mornings. My mother showed us how to garden, my father taught us how to fish. My brother had a paper route; the younger ones were Girl Scouts. We had a home life full of energy and activity."

"It's important to replace every haraam you stop your child from with at least two halaals they can enjoy," advises a popular Muslim family counselor. "You don't want your children to grow up thinking that Islam is just a bunch of no's — `no, you can't do this; no, you can't do that.'" She laughs heartily, "Make it about `yes, we can!'"

I have a Yemeni friend who has taken that philosophy to heart with gusto. She and her husband may not throw birthday or New Year's Eve parties, but you should see the festivities they do arrange. When her twins memorized the thirtieth juz (chapter of the Quran), the picnic in the park was enjoyed with two separate gourmet cakes and party favors for all. When this same brother-sister team went on to memorize the twenty-ninth juz, they came home from school to discover their bedrooms decorated with streamers and presents. My five-year-old son Raahim and his pre-school buddies recently memorized ten surahs under this auntie's guidance, and she was quick to organize a party complete with a pinata, awards, balloons, and treats. With memories like these, Muslim adults are bound to look back on their childhoods as a time filled with celebrations, insha'Allah.

"There is so much fitna (tribulation) out there in the world. We can't protect our kids from everything bad," warns a devout grandfather of ten children. "But it is for that very reason that the home must be an oasis where Allah is remembered and obeyed, where children can relax and feel cherished, where they can practice their religion without feeling apologetic or alien. The home environment should be as halaal as possible. Our litmus test was always `Would we be ashamed if the Prophet (salallaahu alaihi wasallam) were to walk into our house right now? Is there anything we would want to hide?'."

The result of this family's "test" was a tidy, simply furnished home where the television set was absent and books lined the shelves. Flowers bloomed outside every window, intricate Islamic calligraphy adorned the walls, and healthful food was served with generosity and enthusiasm to all who entered. The sense of serenity in the air was something tangible.

I'll never forget what one daughter of a highly respected elder in the community told me when I asked her how her siblings remained so close to their parents despite being raised in a small town with only a handful of Muslims. Didn't they ever rebel? How did they resist the siren song of the un-Islamic peer culture around them? "If you feel love in your home, you don't look for it anywhere else."

5.) Our parents didn't just "talk the talk", they "walked the walk".

In other words, they practiced what they preached.

"I don't get it when I hear mothers telling their kids `Don't tell lies' and then in the next breath smoothly tell phone callers, `Oh, he's not home right now' when the husband is sitting right there in front of them," says a medical school resident who is spending time learning Hanafi fiqh as well. "Or how about when parents teach their kids `It's wrong to backbite' and then complain about the in-laws to anyone who will listen? It's just beyond me."

When pressed for examples of not succumbing to hypocrisy in his own family life, he says that his parents taught him and his siblings the importance of prayer and then never allowed them to miss any, even if it meant praying in the middle of Disneyland. "Our dad taught us that while there might be a time for fun and play, it never comes at the expense of giving up our duties to Allah. And since he was always the first to stand up for prayer, we just naturally followed."

Another experienced mother gave me this age-old advice, "You can teach your kids the rules of prayer all you want, but if you're not going to pray, they're not going to pray. Children learn from what their parents do, not just what they say."

"But it's not enough to just teach your children to pray," interjects another mother who was raised a secular Jew but is now Muslim. "What about how you pray? Do you have presence in your prayer? Are you sad if you ever miss a prayer? Those lessons are all just as important as learning to pray."

I was once working with an African-American convert friend when the time for Maghrib prayer came in. I had been busy taking care of some tasks, but I stopped and said, "Well, I guess I better go get my prayer out of the way."

Startled, she looked up and then chuckled. "In our house, we say we're going to get prayer `in the way'."

SubhanAllah, what a difference one word makes! What a difference in attitude!

"I was sitting in my room reciting my morning dhikr while the kids were completing an art project in the family room," an Egyptian friend shared with me the other day. "It suddenly struck me that I always recite my litanies in private, so I got up and joined them in their area of the house. They continued to paint while I continued with my prayers. They need to see me doing this…and they need to see me doing this happily."

The other day one of my sons became frustrated while searching for an elusive pencil in the writing desk. He shoved papers aside and slammed the drawer shut when no pencil materialized, grumbling the entire time. I began to lecture him about the merits of patience when I realized that I had behaved in the exact same manner while looking for my keys a few days earlier. Children really are like sponges; they soak in everything around them. "Garbage in, garbage out," cautions one teacher.

"Children need to see that Islam `worked' in our home," says another scholar. "Islam isn't just about praying and fasting and charity. Islam is an attitude that must be infused in the mundane day-to-day dealings with life. Do parents treat each other with respect? How do they react to the ups and downs of life? Children are constantly learning from their parents, even when the parents don't think they have anything to teach."