My Incredible Discovery of Islam   
      
   This is a story of women who accepted Islam after spending seventy years of   
   her life searching for truth, named “My Incredible Discovery Of Islam”.   
       
   When someone asked me recently how I came into the fold of Islam, I was taken   
   aback and a bit surprised. For I have never thought of my coming into Islam as   
   having one critical turning point. When did I first question Catholicism? When   
   did I first want    
   to become a Muslim? The answers to these questions and many others require   
   more thought than I could have ever imagined. To really answer these questions   
   I have to start at the very beginning so that you understand the point to   
   where I got in my life    
   that led me to finally accept the truth of Islam. I became a Muslim at the age   
   of 67, and I thank God that He has blessed me to become a believer in Islam.   
   “Those whom Allah (in His plan) wills to guide,- He opens their breast to   
   Islam; those whom He    
   wills to leave straying,- He makes their breast close and constricted, as if   
   they had to climb up to the skies: thus does Allah (heap)the penalty on those   
   who refuse to believe.” (Quran 6: 125)   
       
   I was raised in a strict Roman Catholic home, the middle daughter of three   
   children. My father worked hard and long every day. He would leave early in   
   the morning each day and would return late at night. All of this so that my   
   mother could stay home and    
   take care of my sisters and me. One very sad and unfortunate day my mother   
   told us that my father had been in a car accident. He passed away suddenly and   
   our whole world turned upside down. With all the changes that were taking   
   place, my mother told us    
   that she would now have to go back to work. My mother, who had once been a   
   nurse, was now forced to work to support us. She found a job in the local   
   hospital, many times working two shifts. But with this newfound    
   esponsibility, my mother was no longer    
   able to oversee our upbringing. And although she sent us to Catholic school,   
   her job kept her from keeping a watchful eye on her daughters.   
       
    So, with much time to pass and spend, I found myself spending time with my   
   friends at the local cafes. It was there that I met a very nice Musliman man   
   who later became my husband. My mother did not know that I was spending time   
   with this man. In fact,    
   when I told her that I was in love and wanted to get married, she warned that   
   we were from different backgrounds and that we would eventually have problems.   
   She stated that if there were ever children in our future, problems over   
   religion would    
   undoubtedly develop. At twenty years old, I could not imagine that we would   
   have any problems in our marriage. I was so in love and felt so happy that   
   someone would be taking care of me. My husband was not a very religious man at   
   that time, and deep down    
   I felt that I would be able to get him to convert to Catholicism. As for us   
   not having the same ethnic background, I considered myself more open-minded   
   and was excited to be embracing a new culture.   
       
   Everything seemed to be going along so perfectly for the next several years.   
   We were happy and not once did culture or religion ever cause us any problems.   
   God blessed us with a beautiful son and then several years later with a   
   beautiful daughter. Still,    
   we went along with our lives and I even began taking my children to church   
   with me. My husband never prevented me from attending weekly Sunday mass.   
   However, after a few times of my taking our children to church, that is when   
   he spoke to me about his not    
   wanting the children to attend church. Frankly, I was angry and upset. “But   
   why not,” I objected. “Any religion is better than none,” I argued. I really   
   could not understand the harm in taking them to church. Up until this point,   
   we had never even    
   discussed religion. In fact, I had never even questioned that there could even   
   be a different religion than Catholicism. I was born a Catholic and thought   
   that Catholicism was the right religion.  For explanations that I can’t even   
   put a finger on, it    
   seemed like from this day on, so many problems were now evident. We argued all   
   the time— about everything and everyone. Now, little things became a big deal.   
   Religion became an arguing point between us. The differences in our cultures   
   became something to    
   argue about. We argued about in-laws and most unfortunately, we argued on the   
   upbringing of our children. Everything that my mother warned us about was now   
   coming true.   
       
   The only peace and harmony that was now between us was the wisdom, sincerity,   
   concern and love my husband’s father, my father-in-law, had for our marriage.   
   My father-in-law loved his son and grandchildren, yet also genuinely loved me   
   as a daughter. He    
   was a very religious and devout Muslim and was a very wise man. At that time,   
   because I was not surrounded with Islam, my father-in law was the first   
   introduction into Islam I had. He prayed every prayer, fasted during the month   
   of Ramadan, and was very    
   generous to the poor. I could feel his connection to God. In fact, my   
   father-in-law was so kind to the needy that every day after coming home from   
   the Zuhr prayer at the mosque, he would invite any needy person home to eat   
   lunch with. This was every    
   single day. Up until his death at the age of 95, relatives remembered that he   
   had continued with this habit.   
       
      
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    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)