An Opening

 

Another woman told me this:
I did not see it.  It was a small space.  The smallest of spaces.  No more than a quarter of an inch between my knee and that of the woman sitting next to me on the floor in the upper level of the Haram.  And so far in the back we could not even see the railing that overlooked the Kaaba below us in the center.

      It was Friday—Jumaah during Hajj and the women were still coming up the stairs.  I knew how thick the crowd was below.  There was no separation of men and women—just thousands of Muslims standing so close in prayer that they would be unable to make sajud on the floor; they could only press their heads against the backs of the people in front of them during the Jumaah prayer and  janazah—funeral prayers–of those who had died during Hajj. Their souls go on with all of the prayers of their janazah—the prayers of thousands of people in the Haram right then seeking forgiveness and mercy from Allah. 

I looked up and saw one more woman approaching me now from the entryway to my right. I was tired of being crowded and pushed in the heat to make room where all could see there was no more room.  That was when I looked and saw it—the quarter of an inch.

I knew what she knew.  It was her space, her opening.  She stepped up to it and folded herself down onto the floor, into that space.  And once again the row shifted, bodies realigned themselves—all the knees and elbows and feet.  When it was done, she was sitting next to me but I was not really any more crowded then I was before.

That lesson was my gift from Allah on that Jumaah of my Hajj.  And it has stood me in good stead all these years since: that great blessings, opportunities, rewards lie just beyond the smallest of openings–if only I have faith enough to see them, and to step through.