I love Islam and cream soda

The Universe always speaks and sometimes we are given a brief ability to listen. Tonight, I got a message… It was actually a 3-part message that culminated tonight. The first part was sent earlier today – I was in a meeting with a community-based organization and one of the ladies there shook my hand and remarked how soft my skin was. No biggie except that everyone in the office rolled with laughter as I stood there embarrassed – I mean, I’m a pretty manly dude (I think), heck, even a fighter, so I don’t imagine having soft hands, not the kind that get remarked on. Now let’s backtrack a bit to several months ago, while I was in prison. I got an online generated message from an old friend, “Rose” (not her real name), totally out of the blue.   Rose and I really don’t know each other but we have been friends for nearly 20 years. We have never met face to face or even had a direct conversation. We met originally on a couple religious message boards run by MSN, way back when,

When you’re poor You’re most likely born to a poor parent That parent most likely lives in Baltimore and with addiction So, it’s more likely you were born premature So you’ll live in the hospital and you won’t go home Until you weigh at least 5 pounds And home is most likely the projects Where the paint is peeling off the walls When you’re poor and a baby born in Baltimore, you learn real fast How to pick things up off the floor to put into your mouth Like binkies, cheerios, pennies And paint chips...

I've come back into the world to a Muslim father's worst nightmare. When I left my kid, she was all of 15. Now, she's 19 - and to my chagrin of chagrins, she has a boyfriend.  He aint Muslim. Yeah, I'm a bit perturbed. Okay, I'm pissed. I would like to have imagined that nothing like this could have happened in any type of reality. My religion is my life and so I have had every intent in making it as important to my child. After all, she is my flesh and blood and the only other person carrying my name (legitimately) – and because I am a first generation Muslim convert, it’s her I am relying on to carry on the family religious legacy.

Relating the story of Jonah, the Quran has it that it was his anger at the people of Nineveh for refusing his message of salvation that led him to flee from them and eventually end up swallowed by a big fish/whale. I have an inkling of what that type of anger feels like, having been in the belly of the beast (prison) once as a teenager/young adult and inexplicably again recently (being in my 40s). I am sure that Jonah’s own belly burned white hot with righteous indignation that covered up feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. My own fire burned during my latest stint fueled by the fact that it came after nearly 2 decades of turning my life around from my first time down, as well as this latest conviction being the result of largely false accusations of domestic violence.