There is a tradition within Islam that most Westerners never encounter - a living river of healing prayer that has been flowing for fourteen centuries, carrying the wounded and the weary toward something whole.
There is a tradition within Islam that most Westerners never encounter - a living river of healing prayer that has been flowing for fourteen centuries, carrying the wounded and the weary toward something whole.
These are not the prayers of conquest or doctrine that make headlines. These are the whispered prayers of a mother over her sick child.
The dawn prayers of someone who has lost everything and is asking, with trembling hands, for the strength to begin again.
I share these not as a Muslim - I am not - but as someone who has sat with people from every tradition and witnessed the same light breaking through different windows.