Nīkah Written by Qādr, Tested by Genotype
Chapter Nineteen: Between Tests and Mercy
Days passed in a way that no longer felt steady or predictable, because time itself seemed to move with a pattern that carried repeated trials without warning. Weeks followed one another, and those weeks eventually turned into months, yet within that flow of time, health did not remain constant for our family. Illness became something that appeared suddenly and moved from one person to another, as if it was passing through the household in cycles that we could not fully prevent. Sibghatullah fell ill during one week, and just when we thought he was recovering, his younger sister Ghurobah became unwell in the following weeks, and not long after that, their father also became sick, leaving me to witness each situation one after another without any pause in between.
There were moments when I sat alone and felt overwhelmed by everything that was happening around me, because it felt as though I was the only one remaining in a state of stability while everyone I cared for was facing difficulty. I was the one moving from one responsibility to another, ensuring that medication was given, hospital visits were attended, and daily needs were managed, while those who would normally share the burden with me were temporarily unable to do so because of their own conditions. In those moments, a feeling of heaviness would come over me, and I would question within myself whether what I was experiencing was a form of punishment or a test that I was expected to endure without complaint.
However, even within those thoughts, I could not ignore the reality that Allah ﷻ never completely closed the doors of ease upon us. Despite the continuous spending on treatment, medication, and medical care, we always found that provision was made available in ways we did not expect. It was as if every time we reached a point where we thought we had exhausted our resources, another form of ease would appear, allowing us to continue without falling into complete hardship. This realization slowly built within me a deeper understanding that sustenance is not controlled by human planning alone, but by the will of Allah ﷻ, who opens and provides according to His wisdom.
There were times when I reflected deeply on this aspect of our lives, and I came to understand that what we were experiencing was not only difficulty, but also a form of hidden mercy that many people may not recognize while they are within it. The challenges we faced were visible, but the support and provision that accompanied them were often subtle and consistent, allowing us to continue even when circumstances seemed overwhelming. This balance between hardship and provision made me realize that what we were going through was more complex than simple suffering, because within it existed elements of protection, care, and unseen assistance that we could not deny.
As time continued, I also became more aware of the emotional and social pressures that surrounded situations like ours. There were moments when I thought about how easily a person could be influenced by external opinions, and how different our situation might have been if we had allowed ourselves to be guided by emotions alone or by the judgments of others. I realized that if I had chosen to act purely based on my own feelings or the words of people around us, I might have made decisions that would have completely changed the direction of our lives, including the possibility of separation or divorce. However, despite those thoughts, I also understood that our relationship was not something that began without meaning, because from the beginning, there was a connection that we both recognized as something deeper than ordinary choice. We understood that what we shared was part of what Allah had written for us, and that it was not something we could easily separate from our lives without consequences that go beyond surface understanding.
Even with the continuous challenges related to health, we remained committed to raising our children in a way that reflected both discipline and guidance. Sibghatullah and his sister, despite being tested by AS genotype conditions, were not neglected in their upbringing. Instead, we ensured that they were given proper attention in both their religious development and their general education. They were taught Islamic values from an early age, learning how to understand their faith in a practical and meaningful way, while also being introduced to formal education that would help them navigate the world beyond their immediate environment.
We placed importance on balancing both Islamic and Western education, ensuring that they were not limited in their understanding of knowledge or character development. Their learning process included Qur’anic studies, moral guidance, and structured academic education, which allowed them to grow with awareness and discipline despite the health challenges they faced. This approach was not always easy, especially during periods when illness interrupted their routines, but we remained consistent in our efforts because we understood that their future required stability in both spiritual and intellectual development.
As I observed other families around us, I sometimes noticed a difference in perspective, because there were people who had children with no known health complications yet lacked consistency in guiding them toward beneficial knowledge or structured upbringing. This observation made me reflect on the fact that having fewer visible challenges does not always guarantee better outcomes in life, because blessings are not measured solely by physical health or outward stability. Instead, they are often found in how a person utilizes what they have been given, whether in ease or in difficulty.
Through all these experiences, I began to understand more clearly that our situation was not simply defined by genotype or medical challenges, but also by how we chose to respond to them. The way we raised our children, the way we supported each other, and the way we continued to move forward despite repeated trials all contributed to a broader understanding of what it means to live with patience and reliance upon Allah ﷻ.
Even though the cycle of illness continued to appear in different forms, we had reached a point where it no longer broke us in the same way it once did. We had learned how to respond with more calmness, how to manage situations with greater awareness, and how to maintain stability even when circumstances were not ideal. This growth did not remove the difficulty, but it changed the way we experienced it, allowing us to see beyond the immediate pain and recognize the continuity of life that exists alongside hardship.
In the midst of everything, I also came to realize that love, commitment, and shared responsibility were not weakened by trials, but rather tested and refined through them. The relationship I had with my husband was not destroyed by the challenges we faced; instead, it was shaped by them in a way that made it more grounded in understanding and shared endurance. We were no longer simply partners in ease, but companions in responsibility, learning how to navigate life together even when the path was not smooth.
As I reflect on all of this, I understand that our journey is not one that can be summarized by hardship alone, nor by ease alone, but by the combination of both. It is a journey where illness and recovery, difficulty and provision, doubt and faith all exist side by side, forming a life that continues to move forward under the decree of Allah ﷻ.
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Written By: Ahmād Zāhir Enagi Abū-Khālif
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