Dear God,

As a person aiming to learn the religion I can at times get a bit depressed. People don’t make it easy, in fact they place burdens on our backs and put up barriers at every point of our journey.

Being a convert and of a black background can make it even more frustrating, people assume your ability to comprehend and master this tradition is less because you aren’t Desi or Arab.

But there is something I am reminded of everyday, you are the one that gives openings. It is only through you that I have the ability to grow and become the person and student that I am aiming to be.

For me this path isn’t about certifications and authorizations, it isn’t about speaking engagements and money, it’s about preserving the heart and soul that you gave me and coming to you with humility. It’s about coming to you knowing that It’s only by your mercy that I will be gifted your glance on the Day on Judgement.

I’ll work hard and I’ll forego the joys in this world.

I’ll cry myself to sleep from straining myself to understand what right now seems impossible.

I’ll do it if it means I can be with you.

I’ll do it if it means you’ll have mercy on me and gift me with the knowledge of who you are and what you expect and ask of me.

I’ll deal with the racism.

I’ll deal with the mass confusion.

I’ll deal with the responsibilities.

I’ll deal with the heartache.

I’ll deal with the long nights.

I’ll deal with it all if it means I can be with you.

This path is a lot like burning incense. Before you place it on the hot coal you become excited knowing that soon you’ll have a home filled with the smell of Frankincense, but first you have to get through the smell of burning coal. Then once you lay the Frankincense on the coal you have to deal with the intense smoke that comes.

But once you finally get through it, once the smoke has dissipated and the room clears, you take a deep breath and inhale a smell sweeter than any other. It heals, it relaxes, and it is rewarding.

I’m ready Lord.

Jumada Al Thani 23rd, 1440
February 28th, 2019

Your servant,
Arthur K. Richards