Zaynab
Zaynab5@aol.com

My father does not believe in a god, neither does he disbelieve, he is somewhere in the middle waiting for proof. Being an accountant everything must visibly add up, all expenditures need to be declared and nothing can remain hidden. Unfortunately this train of thought has been carried over into his thinking of 'why are we here' and therefore, until some physical proof presents itself, he will remain undecided.

My mother does believe in God. However, she has been got at by a jehova's witness. My mother's mother has died and as a result she cannot accept the fact that there is a hell. It seems that by my mother accepting the fact that there is a hell will somehow increase the chances of her mother being there. Therefore my mother chooses to believe in the teachings of the J.W.'s as this is easier for her. I myself pray for my nan and hope that Allah SWT will show mercy on her, whatever her present position may .

My upbringing did not really include anything about God. I was christened, although I am not sure why, I would guess that this happened as it was the 'done thing' in my family. In addition I have vague memories of going to Sunday school, and of course to religious education later at school, which could be re-named 'Christian education' as no other religions ever got a look in.

Without any firm religious values, I lived my life according to my own set of moral values. Basically I just used to drift from one point of view to the next, and do my best to 'fit in' with whichever group of people I was with. I did have a belief in God, although I have to admit that I did not do a lot about it.

Then I met a Muslim. This opened new channels of discussions, and re-kindled the flame of my belief in God. Many a conversation took place on all sorts of topics, the existence of God, Heaven and Hell, other religions, the Holy Prophet and his Family PBUH, even topics such as what was the point of dinosaurs, and aliens. Everything was a muddle in my mind, question after question I asked, and to each question there was an answer that satisfied it. I was confused though, if this religion was so correct, why hadn't I heard about it already? What about all the kind people I had met that were not Muslims, surely their good deeds would count? Why do you have to become a Muslim if you live your life properly, i.e. do not steal, commit adultery etc. etc.?

As time passed I soon realised that I was just searching for excuses. I knew that Islam was correct, but I needed to dig deep to find the courage to change. No longer could I hide behind a wall of questions and 'what ifs', it was time to stand up and be part of something that I believed in.

I was very nervous, every few minutes my stomach churned, rushes of adrenal waves through my body. It was the night that I would declare myself a Muslim and change the rest of my life. I was sure about my decision to revert, but scared at the prospect at the same time, conflicting emotions and feelings taking it in turns to pop into my head, but all along I knew that Truth would win.

The time had come, we gathered in a group. I repeated everything that the Imam said to me, I hung onto every syllable and repeated as best I could, I was afraid that if I didn't pronounce the Arabic words properly then my declaration would not count, an it had to count. I went into a kind of dream world, feeling as if this wasn't really me, I was watching someone else. The emotions started to rise, I looked around and realised that I was not alone with my tears. My declaration was touching the hearts of those around me. The Imam then said a number of prayers for me and also for my family, I felt somehow indebted to him, I felt the need to repay him in some way for what he had enabled me to become.

Tears continued to roll as this pious Imam asked me to pray for him that night. How could one of my prayers be worth anything when compared to his? We shared a cup of water, I was allowed to drink first, followed by all my good friends, I was now part of what they stood for. I had been accepted.

From that point onwards I was a Muslim. I felt so honoured that I could hardly believe it.

The final part of the transformation was to wash. I needed to purify myself and all my sins would now be forgiven, as if they had been washed down the plug hole with the soapy water. It was as if I had just been born, from now on it would be up to me.

The world now appeared differently to me. I noticed aspects of people that I had missed before, I was much more aware of good and evil around me. I could look back at my past and it really felt as if that wasn't me at all, I had a feeling that I had been given a whole new life, and I had been detached from my previous actions. This carried with it a responsibility, a desire not to blemish my new clean record. I had so much to learn, so much to read and take in. I had to be different towards people at work and even my own family, I had to get rid of clothes, books and pictures, now that I had been purified I had to make an attempt to purify my surroundings.

With the help I have had from Allah SWT, I have now found the true path, and take the Holy Prophet and his Family PBUT as my examples to follow, I must try and remember them with my every thought. My only wish now is that they may remember me on the Day of Judgement.