Sami's New Year's Tasbih

It was New Year's Day. Sami woke up, excited to see what 2014 had in store for him. He washed his face and brushed his teeth. Head? Check. Nose? Check. Ears? Check. So far, the new year had not brought him anything new. Sami ate breakfast, and looked at a book that he hoped to complete soon. It was about The Wright Brothers and their first flight. Sami loved flying, so his Mom had brought him the book from the library last week.

After breakfast, Sami’s Mom dropped him off at the basketball court as she had promised. He had begged to play and today Mom had given in. She made him bundle up, however, and Sami didn’t like bundling up so much. It got in the way of his dribbling skills. When Sami dribbled the basketball, he imagined that he was Lebron James, or Kobe Bryant, no no, Derick Rose. Yeah, Derick Rose. Sami felt like he was Derick Rose when he dribbled the ball free of the kind of heavy clothes that weighed him down now. Oh well, Sami was going to have to try his best like this.

Two of Sami’s friends were already shooting hoops at the basketball court when Sami’s Mom dropped him off. “Be good, Sami! I love you. I’ll see you at home in a little bit, okay?” said Sami’s Mom.

“Okay, Momma.” Shouted Sami as he trotted off towards the court.

“Hey, Momma’s boy!” greeted Thurston.

“Hey, what’s up, Sami?” said Bertrand.

“Hey guys! Happy new year!” said Sami.

“Let’s do this!” said Thurston, as they started a game of Twenty-One.

Sami was the smallest of the three boys, but he didn’t let it stop him from playing like Derick Rose. He hit one shot. He hit another. He was on fire!

“Ouch” said Sami as he was pushed by Thurston.

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t see you” said Thurston as he continued playing.

The boys continued playing. After a while Sami started hitting more shots.

Thud! Sami couldn’t help but cry. He had taken off his heavy coat because it was getting in the way of his dribbling skills and when he fell it really hurt bad. The cold cement impacted against his skin like a ferocious boxer had punched him with a knockout blow. His vision went dark for what was probably just a moment, but felt much, much longer to Sami. His hands, wrists, forearms, face, and left knee were screaming in pain where they had scraped against the concrete. Sami knew big boys didn’t cry, but his tears were disloyal to him. He cried and cried. It hurt.

Thurston guffawed. “Oh shoot. I guess I tripped you.”

“You pushed me to the ground.” protested Sami.

“Go home.” said Thurston as he passed Bertrand the ball.

“I don’t think I can move.” whimpered Sami to himself.

The boys continued to play basketball around and over Sami. After the longest few minutes of 2014, Sami got himself up off the floor and dusted himself off. He grabbed his coat and limped down the street towards his home, reflecting on what had just happened to him.

Just then, out of the corner of his ear, he overheard the sound of a most beautiful voice calling out “Allahu Akbar” from the domed building near his house. Sami was limping by on the sidewalk near the building when a lady with a beautiful headscarf opened the door.

“Oh, my dear boy, are you okay?” she asked?

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you” said Sami with as much courage as he could muster.

“Okay, but come here, let me take a look at your injuries. You look like you are bleeding.”

“Okay.” said Sami as he walked with the nice lady into the building.

The building was impressive inside. Sami immediately forgot about the stinging of his scrapes when he saw the beautiful artwork and calligraphy on the walls and ceiling.

“What is that stuff?” asked Sami innocently of his new friend.

“Oh, those are verses from the Quran.”

“What is The Quran?” asked Sami.

“The Quran is the holy book revealed by God, Allah, to Muhammad, His final prophet and messenger; oh, and my name is Mariam.”

“Oh, my name is Sami.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sami. Let’s get some antiseptic on your wounds. This might sting a bit, but only for a second. Try to think of something nice.”

“Okay” said Sami as he closed his eyes and thought of his Rumi bear.

“Ouch!” Mariam was right. It did hurt.

“That wasn’t so bad was it? You’re all better now. Please give this note to your Mom for me, just in case she has any questions. Oh, and here is a gift from me to you.” Said Mariam as she handed young Sami a wooden tasbih.

“Thank you Mariam. What is this?” asked Sami. He had never been given anything like it before.

Mariam smiled. “It’s a tasbih, son.”

“Oh. Thanks!” said Sami. He didn’t know what to do with the tasbih, but he thought it was pretty cool.

“Umm… what am I supposed to do with it?”

Another big smile flashed across Mariam’s bright face. “Whenever you feel like it, when you are distressed, at rest, or just relaxing… you can just remember God, remember Allah by saying his name and praises. You can count them on your fingers, on your tasbih, or in your heart. You can call on him in the brightness of the day, or alone in the dark. Just say “Allah, Allah” and you will feel much better. It always works for me.” She said with a wink.

Sami walked home, saying “Allah… Allah” on his tasbih... and feeling much better than he did prior to meeting his new friend, Mariam.

When Sami entered home Dad was washing the dishes and watching a football game on the television.

“Hey Son, how is your 2014 coming along so far?”

“Not bad at all, Dad. Not bad at all.”