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    “And one leg will one joined with another"

    Someone sent this (email) and I am so glad they did . Its very long but if you got the time then do read it.


    And one leg will one joined with another"

    "She's My Sister"

    A true story translated from Arabic ... My Dear Muslim please read it, its
    something that worth thinking about..May Allah reward u in Dunya and khira

    Her cheeks were worn and sunken and her skin hugged her bones. That didn't
    stop her though. You could never catch her not reciting Qur'an.
    Always vigil in her personal prayer room Dad had set up for her. Bowing,
    prostrating, raising her hands in prayer. That was the way she was from dawn
    to sunset and back again.

    As for me, I craved nothing more than fashion magazines and novels. I
    treated myself all the time to videos until those trips to the rental place
    became my trademark. As they say, when something becomes habit people tend
    to distinguish you by it. I was negligent in my responsibilities and
    laziness characterized my Salah.

    One night, I turned the video off after a marathon three hours of watching.
    The adhan softly rose in that quiet night. I slipped peacefully into my blanket.

    Her voice carried from her prayer room. "Yes? Would you like anything
    Noorah?" I said. With a sharp needle she popped my plans. "Don't sleep
    before you pray Fajr!" Agh...there's still an hour before Fajr, that was
    only the first Adhan!

    With those loving pinches of hers, she called me closer. She was always like
    that, even before the fierce sickness shook her spirit and shut her in bed.

    "Hanan, can you come sit beside me?" I could never refuse any of her
    requests. You could touch the purity and sincerity. "Yes, Noorah?"

    "Please sit here."

    "OK, I"m sitting. What's on your mind?"

    With the sweetest mono voice she began reciting, "Every soul shall taste
    death and you will merely be repaid your earnings on Resurrection Day."
    (H.Q. 3: 185)

    She stopped thoughtfully. Then she asked, "Do you believe in death?"

    "Of course I do."

    "Do you believe that you shall be responsible for whatever
    you do, regardless of how small or large?"

    "I do, but Allah is Forgiving and Merciful and I've got a long life waiting
    for me."

    "Stop it Hanan ... aren't you afraid of death and it's abruptness? Look at
    Hind. She was younger than you but she died in a car accident. So did so and
    so, and so and so. Death is age-blind and your age could never be a measure
    of when you shall die."

    The darkness of the room filled my skin with fear. "I'm scared of the dark
    and now you made me scared of death. How am I supposed to go to sleep now?
    Noorah, I thought you promised you'd go with us on vacation during the
    summer break."

    Impact. Her voice broke and her heart quivered. "I might be going on a long
    trip this year Hanan, but somewhere else. Just maybe. All of our lives are
    in Allah's hands and we all belong to Him."

    My eyes welled and the tears slipped down both cheeks. I pondered my
    sister's grizzly sickness, how the doctors had informed my father privately
    that there was not much hope that Noorah was going to outlive the disease.
    She wasn't told though. Who hinted to her? Or was it that she could sense
    the truth?

    "What are you thinking about Hanan?" Her voice was sharp.
    "Do you think I am just saying this because I am sick? Uh - uh. In fact, I
    may live longer than people who are not sick. And you Hanan, how long are
    you going to live? Twenty years, maybe? Forty? Then what?" Through the dark
    she reached for my hand and squeezed gently. "There's no difference between
    us; we're all going to leave this world to live in Paradise or agonize in
    Hell.

    Listen to the words of Allah: "Anyone who is pushed away from the Fire and
    shown into Jannah will have triumphed." (H.Q. 3:185)

    I left my sister's room dazed, her words ringing in my ears: May Allah guide
    you Hanan - don't forget your prayer.

    Eight O'clock in the morning. Pounding on my door. I don't usually wake up
    at this time. Crying. Confusion. O Allah, what happened?

    Noorah's condition became critical after Fajr. They took her immediately to
    the hospital ... Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un.

    There wasn't going to be any trips this summer. It was written that I would
    spend the summer at home.

    After an eternity...

    It was one o'clock in the afternoon. Mother phoned the hospital. "Yes. You
    can come and see her now." Dad's voice had changed, mother could sense
    something had gone deathly wrong. We left immediately.

    Where was that avenue I used to travel and thought was so short? Why was it
    so long now, so very long? Where was the cherished crowd and traffic that
    would give me a chance to gaze left and right? Everyone, just move out of
    our way. Mother was shaking her head in her hands crying as she made dua'a
    for her Noorah.

    We arrived at the hospital's main entrance. One man was moaning, another was
    involved in an accident and a third's eyes were iced, you couldn't tell if
    he was alive or dead.

    We skipped stairs to Noorah's floor. She was in intensive care.

    The nurse approached us. "Let me take you to her." As we walked down the
    aisles the nurse went on expressing how sweet a girl Noorah was. She
    reassured Mother somewhat that Noorah's condition had gotten better than
    what it was in the morning.

    "Sorry. No more than one visitor at a time." This was the intensive care
    unit. Through the small window in the door and past the flurry of white
    robes I caught my sisters eyes. Mother was standing beside her. After two
    minutes, mother came out unable to control her crying.

    "You may enter and say Salam to her on condition that you do not speak too
    long," they told me. "Two minutes should be enough."

    "How are you Noorah? You were fine last night sister, what happened?"

    We held hands, she squeezed harmlessly. "Even now, Alhamdulillah, I'm doing
    fine."

    "Alhamdulillah...but...your hands are so cold."

    I sat on her bedside and rested my fingers on her knee. She jerked it away.
    "Sorry ... did I hurt you?"

    "No, it is just that I remembered Allah's words: "Waltaffatul saaqu bil
    saaq." ( One leg will be wrapped to the other leg (in the death shroud).
    (H.Q. 75:29)

    "Hanan pray for me. I may be meeting the first day of the hearafter very
    soon. It is a long journey and I haven't prepared enough good deeds in my
    suitcase."

    A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek at her words. I cried and she
    joined me. The room blurred away and left us two sisters - to cry together.
    Rivulets of tears splashed down on my sister's palm which I held with both
    hands. Dad was now becoming more worried about me. I've never cried like
    that before.

    At home and upstairs in my room, I watched the sun pass away with a
    sorrowful day. Silence mingled in our corridors. A cousin came in my room,
    another. The visitors were many and all the voices from downstairs stirred
    together. Only one thing was clear at that point ... Noorah had died!

    I stopped distinguishing who came and who went. I couldn't remember what
    they said. O Allah, where was I? What was going on? I couldn't even cry
    anymore.

    Later that week they told me what had happened. Dad had taken my hand to say
    good-bye to my sister for the last time, I had kissed Noorah's head. I
    remember only one thing though, seeing her spread on that bed, the bed that
    she was going to die on. I remembered the verse she recited:
    "And one leg will be joined with another: (in the death shroud)." And I knew
    too well the truth of the next verse: "The drive on that day will be to your
    Lord (Allah)!" (H.Q. 75:29-30)

    I tiptoed into her prayer room that night. Staring at the quiet dressers and
    silenced mirrors, I treasured who it was that had shared my mother's stomach
    with me. Noorah was my twin sister. I remembered who I had swapped sorrows
    with. Who had comforted my rainy days.

    I remembered who had prayed for my guidance and who had spent so many tears
    for so many long nights telling me about death and accountability. May Allah
    save us all!

    Tonight is Noorah's first night that she shall spend in her grave. O Allah,
    have mercy on her and illuminate her grave. This was her Qur'an, her prayer,
    and this was the spring rose-colored dress that she told me she would hide
    until she got married, the dress she wanted to keep just for her husband.

    So Dear Muslim .... where is Noorah now? spending her first night in a place
    which me and u will do the same soon or later..we didn't come to this life
    once and we will not go all together at the same time..we will go one by
    one..and u look around u..how many passed away from the ppl u
    know......think who will be next..who will be the one that "And one leg will
    one joined with another: (in the death shroud), the drive on that day will
    be to your Lord (Allah)! So he neither believed nor prayed! But on the
    contrary, and turned away! Then he walked in full pride to his family
    admiring himself! Woe to you [O man]! And then (again) woe to you! Again,
    woe to you [O man]! And then (again) woe to you! Does man think that he will
    be left Suda [neglected without being punished or rewarded for the
    obligatory duties enjoined by his Lord (Allah) on him]"?????? Good Question

    May Allah puts his mercy upon us and ease our moments of death...and grant
    us Shahada "La Ilah Ila Allah - Mohammed Rasool Allah"

    #2
    A truly touching story. i hope we can all learn from it.

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      #3
      very nice post...!!!

      Comment


        #4
        WOW, very touching...thanks

        Comment


          #5
          yeh !! very touching !!! Thnkx for posting!!!

          ------------------
          "I put my trust in Allah, my Lord and your Lord! There is not a moving creature, but He has a grasp of its forelock. Verily, my Lord is on the straight path. (The truth)"
          (11:55-56)

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