When Everything in Life Goes Wrong

A little boy is telling his Grandma how "everything" is going wrong. School, family problems, health problems, problems with friends, etc.

Meanwhile, Grandma is baking a cake. She asks her grandson if he would like a snack, which, of course, he does.

"Here, have some cooking oil." *"Yuck" says the boy.

"How about a couple raw eggs? " "Gross, Grandma!"

"Would you like some flour then? Or maybe baking soda?"

"Grandma, those are all yucky!"

To which Grandma replies: "Yes, all those things seem bad all by themselves. But when they are put together in the right way, they make a wonderfully delicious cake!

Allah (s.w.t) has a similar way. Many times we wonder why He would let us go through such bad and difficult times.

But Allah (s.w.t) knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always work for good! We just have to trust Him and, eventually, they will all make something wonderful!"

STORY OF A DONKEY

♦♦♦ Never to Give Up ♦♦♦

One day a farmer’s donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do. Finally he decided the animal was old and the well needed to be covered up anyway it just wasn’t worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and begin to shovel dirt into the well.

At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone’s amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well and was astonished at what he saw. With every shovel of dirt that fell on his back, the donkey was doing some thing amazing. He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer’s neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up.

Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and totted off!

♥ Moral ♥ : Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick is too not to get bogged down by it. We can get out of the deepest wells by not stopping. And by never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up!

The Story of a Pretty Woman

A man was walking through the marketplace one afternoon when, just as the ‘Muadhdhin’ began the call to prayer, his eye fell on a woman’s back. She was strangely attractive though dressed in fulsome black a veil over head and face and she now turned to him as if somehow conscious of his over-lingering regard and gave him a slight but meaningful nod before she rounded the corner into the lane of silk sellers. As if struck by a bolt from heaven, the man was at once drawn his heart a prisoner of that look forever.

In vain he struggled with his heart, offering it one sound reason after another to go his way – wasn’t it time to pray? But it was finished: there was nothing but to follow. He hastened after her, turning into the market of silks, breathing from the exertion of catching up with the woman. Who had unexpectedly outpaced him and even now lingered for an instance at the far end of the market. Many shops ahead.

She turned toward him and he thought he could see a flash of a mischievous smile from beneath the black Muslim of her veil, as she – was it his imagination? – beckoned to him. The poor man was beside himself. Who was she? The daughter of a wealthy family? What did she want? He quickened his steps and turned into the lane where she had disappeared. And so she led him, always beyond reach, always tantalizingly ahead, now through the weapons market, now the oil merchants’, now and the leather sellers; farther and farther from where they began the feeling within him grew rather than decreased.

Was she mad? On and on she led. To the very edge of the town the sun declined and set, and there she was, before him as ever. Now they were come, of all places to the ‘City of Tombs’.

Had he been in his normal senses? He would have been afraid, but indeed he now reflected. Stranger places than this had been a lovers tryst.

Had he been in his normal senses, he would have been afraid, but indeed, he now reflected, stranger places than this had seen a lovers’ tryst.

There were scarcely twenty cubits between them when he saw her look back, and, giving a little start, she skipped down the steps and through the great bronze door of what seemed to be a very old sepulcher. A soberer moment might have seen the man pause, but in his present state, there was no turning back, and he went down the steps and slid in after her.

Inside, as his eyes saw after a moment, there were two flights of steps that led down to a second door, from whence a light shone, and which he equally passed through. He found himself in a large room, somehow unsuspected by the outside world, lit with candles upon its walls.

There sat the woman, opposite the door on a pallet of rich stuff in her full black dress, still veiled, reclining on a pillow against the far wall. To the right of the pallet, the man noticed a well set in the floor.

“Lock the door behind you,” she said in a low, husky voice that was almost a whisper, “and bring the key.” He did as he was told. She gestured carelessly at the well. “Throw it in.”

A ray of sense seemed to penetrate for a moment through the clouds over his understanding, and a bystander, had there been one, might have detected the slightest of pauses.

“Go on,” she said laughingly, “You didn’t hesitate to miss the prayer as you followed me here, did you?” He said nothing.

“The time for sunset prayer has almost finished as well,” she said with gentle mockery. “Why worry? Go on, throw it in. You want to please me, don’t you?”

He extended his hand over the mouth of the well, and watched as he let the key drop. An uncanny feeling rose from the pit of his stomach as moments passed but no sound came. He felt wonder, then horror, then comprehension.

“It is time to see me…” she said, and she lifted her veil to reveal not the face of a fresh young girl, but of a hideous old crone, all darkness and vice, not a particle of light anywhere in its eldritch lines.

“See me well” she said. “My name is Dunya (This worldly life). I am your beloved. You spent your time running after me, and now you have caught up with me. In your grave. Welcome, welcome.”

At this she laughed and laughed, until she shook herself into a small mound of fine dust, whose fitful shadows, as the candles went out, returned to the darkness one by one…….

Moral of the Story:

The World appeals to you, intrigues you, because it is meant to do. What you see is just an hallucination. This World is nothing but a mere test for the mankind. You must set your priorities and keep the end in mind.