Dear Zahra
Religion, God and all things spiritual were topics I always knew will come up one day, even on this blog, but that I had to think very carefully about what I would tell you.
We are, all things considered, Muslim (basically by birth). Today, that’s not a very good thing to be, but I’m sure it’ll be different when you’re older. Either way, I was never brought up to be religious, and I liked the freedom that gave me. That might be one reason I insist on sending you to an international school, with a similar curriculum to mine. It won’t be easy, but you’ll be a better person for it, and far more tolerant of all around you.
As I grew older, I learned to trust religion and the religious even less, but I believed in God only because it made a little bit of sense to me (though not much) and I was worried about being wrong about the whole religion thing. So it was a hedge!
Still, had the topic ever come up, I was going to tell you how it’s more important to be good than be religious, and I still believe that, but I am a little conflicted today. I still disagree with many of the ceremonious and symbolic aspects of religion, and I always will, but I need desperately to believe in a God.
As a teenager, you want to sound smart, and so reject God, religion and all other forms of establishments. You rebel against the norm, because you want to appear more independent. Never mind that all your peers are doing the same, and all the adults couldn’t care less, and so it seems a little futile in retrospect. Now, however, I don’t care about being just one amongst many, so long as you’re okay. Self actualization isn’t something I look for, anymore, I feel that, very quickly, I now live only for you, and I hope and pray that I will be a good dad.
When I look at you, I pray to Him that you’ll be safe, and that I’ll be able to provide for you and raise your right. I cling onto the belief that there’s a bigger, stronger force out there that I can plead with when I’m feeling helpless and vulnerable, and when I need to turn to a larger being. I know the road a head won’t be smooth, and I don’t want to make too many mistakes. That’s what I pray for before going to bed. That’s who I turn to when I’m carrying you and worrying about losing my footing (I can be clumsy!). It’s the fear and trepidation that I may not be as good a person as I could, that make me cling onto the belief that with God in my life, you’ll be okay.
I hope I haven’t been too cynical, darling. If I have, I apologize.
For now, sleep well my angel, and sweet dreams.
Love,
Dad
