The Blessings of Lailat al-Qadr

On Monday, June 11, I am hospitalized with septic shock, a serious, often deadly infection that spread from a urinary tract infection (UTI) to my kidneys and into my blood.

I had gotten sick on Friday June 8 with back pain and then overnight Saturday I ran a fever of 102+, which we assumed was from the flu. By Monday, June 11, the fever is 104 and my husband, Abd al-Qadir, takes me to see my doctor who prescribes oral antibiotics for a “whopping UTI” (her description). I say to him as I take the first pill, “I feel I need to be in the hospital on intravenous antibiotics,” because as I take this first pill it feels like spitting on a wild fire. But I am too weak to evaluate the importance of this insight and so we go home. At home I begin having chills, which cause severe shaking throughout my body. I take a hot salt bath and the shaking subsides but I can barely move. A dear friend and neighbor Rahima Pasko (an MD) calls me and says, “These are not the usual symptoms of a UTI; you need to go to the ER!” In less then 5 minutes she is here and drives Abd al-Qadir and me to Fulton County Medical Center where I am diagnosed with septic shock and admitted for observation.

In the ER my blood pressure drops to 70/52 and another IV is added to increase the fluids. However, the fluid begins to fill my lungs and it seems I may need to be moved to the ICU facilities at Chambersburg Hospital for additional emergency treatment. But finally my blood pressure stabilizes and after a breathing treatment, my lungs begin to clear. I am still very ill but it looks like things are improving.

This night is Lailat al-Qadr, the holiest night of the year in Islam. At the beginning of the all-night silent prayer retreat or khalwa that night, the gathering of beloveds is asked to pray for me, as I am in the hospital seriously ill. 

Then early in the morning, just before sunrise, I wake and see a beautiful soft, white light on the edge of my room—a knowing comes to me that I can take leave of this world. I ask, “Can it be that easy?” and again hear a very clear, soft, loving voice reply, “Yes.” I am not afraid or concerned, just curious. At home, twenty miles away my husband feels the choice I am being given at the threshold between the worlds. With his heart connecting to mine, and praying that I will stay, he sends me his love and blessings for whatever choice I make. Salima, in prayer at the khalwa, sees herself washing my body in the Islamic way, and petitions Allah if it is time for me to go, to release me with love; but if it is not my time, to please allow me to stay.

I wonder what it will be like to take this next step and as I turn to consider this possibility, I feel a protective barrier of prayer come between the next world and me. As I turn my head in the opposite direction I see the Farm of Peace and streams of pure, white light connecting me to all those I love and all those who love me and I realize I want to stay, that there is more I can do. I see the angels and saints descending to support the khalwa gathering on this holy night and I fall into a light sleep knowing it is the prayers of this holy community gathered together on Lailat al Qadr that has kept me safe. Thank you beloveds! Subhana’llah (Thanks be to God), alhumduli’llah (Praise be to God), la ilaha illa’llah (There is no God but God), Allahu akbar (God is greater)!

If there is more to this story, Allah He knows. I share it with gratitude and as a reminder of the holy gift we have been given to be part of this beautiful community that is knitted together with love of Allah and of each other. And as a prayer that we are able to keep this Farm in our hearts and hands as an oasis of peace and love for all those who are crying to taste the love and mercy of Allah.

Jamila, June 27, 2018