The Gratitude Challenge

I'm feeling gratitudinally challenged these days.

Rabi'a al-Adawiya is one of the great Islamic mystics. I read one of her stories to my 5-year-old niece, which went something like this:

It is said that once a man had a very sharp headache, so he tied a brightly colored bandanna tightly around his head to mitigate the pain. When Rabia al-Adawiya saw him, she inquired into the cause for the bandanna, upon which he told her of his headache.

Rabia then asked if he often had headaches, and the man said no, he had enjoyed God's blessing of absolute health for all his 30 years.

"So now that you are in pain, you announce it to the world by wearing a bright scarf on your head. Did you in the past 30 years ever wear as showy a token of your gratitude to Him for your good health?" she asked.

The man was struck by her words, and after that day he was known to the community as the one who never complained, no matter what hardship he faced.

The story probably made more of an impression on me than on my young niece. It made me reflect on my own reactions during those rare times when hurt or sorrow are my daily bread, and even more so on those innumerable golden days when all is right with my world.

We live in an age of entitlement and of unprecedented control over our lives and environment. So even when something small goes wrong, our first reaction is often one of impatience, complaint or wondering why God would do such a thing to us.

Hopefully this initial reaction blows over as perspective sets in. But what concerns me is that it has become accepted to complain incessantly, even when our lives are going well generally, which leaves us little spiritual reserve for when it is not.

A family friend of mine is one of the most devout people I know. When her 20-year-old daughter and infant grandson were killed in a car crash, she refused to say anything but (the extremely startling) "Alhamdolillah! (Thank God)" over and over again while weeping.

Why would she say such a thing?

Later, she explained, "Even as I knew He was taking away from me at that moment, I also knew that all of my life He had given to me freely. My thanks was for letting my daughter and grandson be in my life for as long as they were, and it was also a prayer to the Merciful One to grant them peace now that He had taken them back to Himself."

Courage, patience and gratitude such as this woman's do not suddenly appear overnight. She committed herself to developing those qualities daily so that when the challenge finally came, she was able to face it with her faith in God intact and, indeed, deepened.

Such people are awe-inspiring. They make me wonder: How often do I take a step back and look at my life as overflowing with constant and continuous divine blessings? When was the last time I was truly grateful? What showy token of gratitude to God do I wear today?

About a year and a half ago Umm Ali started a seven-day gratitude challenge for herself, which I decided to try too. The commitment? No complaining out loud or in our minds or hearts for seven days.

I made the intention to acknowledge my gratitude to God, to praise those around me, and to see life and people in the most positive of lights.

I started by reading an article by Imam Zaid Shakir on gratitude, by reflecting on all that I had to be grateful for, and by meditating on God's characteristics as the Merciful, the Bountiful, the Loving and the Kind.

Some participants wrote about something they were grateful for each day, some shared goals of patience or forgiveness in their lives, and others kept their experiences private.

A few days into the challenge I was hospitalized with a spinal exacerbation. Surprisingly, though, being hospitalized and paralyzed didn't derail me. Often it is when I am physically at my weakest that I feel closest to God.

It's later, when I'm healthy, that the difficulties set in. And I've been generally well, physically, for over a year now.

But I've been spiraling downward spiritually since September. I've had these lows before and have come to expect them as part of a necessary cycle of soul-growth. But this is the longest I've gone without alleviation.

I'm stuck in a negative view of life, of feeling distant from God and of becoming quickly irritable at people — loved ones or strangers — and events around me.

Prayer and dhikr, which used to have such peace within them, are like dust to me now. I'm just going through the motions in the hope that my spiritual heart will start beating again soon.

Sometimes my tongue seems to have a mind of its own, a bitter one. I have such a different attitude now that the piece I wrote on gratitude last time is barely recognizable as my own.

I know that all of those things that I wrote are still true but I can't feel them anymore.

I need the gratitude challenge again. Maybe by intentionally focusing on the light I can bring it back into the cave my world has become. Maybe the world really is as you decide you want it to be.

I know these seven days will be difficult. I failed immediately after making my intention and I know I'll keep stumbling, but with practice and mindfulness I hope it will became a little easier. Never quite easy perhaps, but easier than before.

As in Judaism, the Islamic day starts in the evening. So tonight, the first of the seven, I am grateful for the chance to step back, take a deep breath, and refuse to listen to the poisonous thoughts that want to be born as words on my tongue, that want to hurt others around me, that are tearing down the peace I have built inside myself.

I am grateful for the ashes and emptiness inside, for it is only by knowing the emptiness that I can taste the sweetness of being filled again.

If one can be grateful for distance from God, then I am — because it makes me long for closeness to Him again. Being out in the cold makes me remember the warmth of His hearth and makes this bend in the road, this challenge, a little easier to bear.

Thank You for Your infinite blessings in my life, during the good times and the bad, when I can feel them and when I cannot, when I am aware and when I am heedless, for even when I am empty I know that I am beloved and held, perfectly, in the palm of Your hand.

Please help me through the next seven days, amen.