The rose from this picture is dried by now. It has lost its beauty and scent, no one will enjoy the bright colors anymore.
But this rose was a part of a very special occasion, which drove us to tears. No tears of sorrow, it was tears of joy.
An evening to remember.
I received this flower as a gift on a saturday, few weeks ago. We were gathering in the mosque as usual. But it was not an usual afternoon.
On this saturday another new sister joined our community and said her shahada, which is the testimony, that there is only one God worthy of worship, and that Muhammad, peace and blessings upon him, is the last messenger.
When I think of the beauty of the rose, and how it’s gone by now, I remember that the words from the sister are not forgotten or gone. Nor are the words from the thousands other women and men, who enter islam every year, and they will always remember their shahada as the words, which gave their hearts the true peace.
Peace, and the knowledge, that nothing in this world happens in vain, that none of us is meaningless, and that life has a higher purpose.
The knowledge and peace kings and rulers would fight for, if they only knew…