I'm most comfortable when I'm with family. Especially my boys. All six are in town now, including the oldest who lives in Europe, because I was in the hospital and they all wanted to spend time with me.

I'm out of the hospital now and my mother insisted that I don't go home yet. I agreed with her. Instead, we living in an apartment about three miles from my home and she's helping me get back to normal. (For instance, I have trouble walking. My whole crisis began with a sore knee, and because of my knee I haven't walked much since the middle of May.)

The two or three oldest boys stay at the apartment every night. They're here to help me get up sometimes and, especially, help me get to the bathroom at night. They're a great help!

I love having all of my six boys around me. They give me energy, and hope.

I think of the Muslim community. This includes all practicing Muslims in Lexington. Most are immigrants, with some Americans scattered here and there. Most are also Arabs. A fairly large number of families, for a small community, send their kids to the Islamic school where my husband is principal. Many teenage Muslims in our community attend Tates Creek High School, where my two youngest are also enrolled. And quite a large number of community members come out for regularly-scheduled events.

To keep caring for and guiding my children, even though three of them are grown. To be kind and loving toward my husband. To be respectful to my mother, and kind and loving to her.



Also to pray every day and think about God in my daily dealings.


Finally, to take care of my health.

Yes,with great frustration.

I was teaching at a private high school. The school was small, with only about 30 students in grades 9-12, but full of potential. I dreamed of creating a world class high school, similar to the IB school my two youngest sons now attend.


But I met a great deal of resistance. Teacher and administrators didn't want to try anything innovative such as offering the option of either a senior internship in a field related to the students' interest or graduation in three years. They weren't interested in having AP classes, and I received little support for administeing the PSAT every fall.

After three years of trying, I finally gave up and resigned completely from teaching. In general, I continue to fight with determination, but I finally saw that the situation was hopeless. Not only that, the resistance to change was an ever present force not only in the school but also in the city where we lived. It wouldn't work.

I began writing after that, with considerable more success than I found as a teacher. I am very grateful that my youngest are benefiting from someone else who had a similar vision in a different school, a different city, a different state.

Oh, yes. I've made quite a few successful changes.

Eight years ago I began the transition from teaching to success as a writer. When I married, I learned to be a little less independent, and when my children were born I was able to become a successful mother (based on the kids I've produced). More changes were called for when they became teenagers and I had to learn a new way of talking and thinking.

But my biggest change was when I became a Muslim. The process of my conversion took five years as I carefully considered all aspects of the change and studied both Christianity and Islam (along with some other religions because I was searching) in depth.

When I finally made the decision to convert to Islam, it appeared to be sudden. But it was built upon a firm foundation of study and contemplation. Immediately I began to practice Islam and adapt to my new lifestyle

With one exception. I didn't wear a headscarf. For one thing, I didn't want one of my professors to know about my conversion because he opposed Islam (he was a religion professor and Presbyterian minister). I told everyone else on campus, but warned them not to tell Dr. so and so. Of course, that never works.

Also, the headscarf felt strange to me. It was a little too foreign, a little too much change.

I thought about it for six months. I had a scarf given to me by a nice woman from Sudan, so I was prepared when necessary. One afternoon, during the Iran hostage crisis, a friend from World Peace and I were walking toward the student center when we heard a student loudly proclaim that he would like to take one of those Iranians (i-ran-ians) and drag him behind his truck  through the streets of Kirksville.

My friend, who was bolder than me, went after him and challenged his statement. After the exchange of a few words, he told us to go away "you slut whores."

Islam elevates women and I wouldn't be talked to that way. The next day I started wearing the scarf to keep my head warm (it was January). Eventually, I wore out of conviction. That was in 1981 and I wear it still. And that was the biggest, and most challenging, change of my greatest change--my conversion.
 

All Muslims believe that we have been created to live our lives in submission to God.

And as an individual I have more purpose in my life. I believe I was born to be a mother to my six boys and to write books to leave to the world.

As we know but don't like to remember, each of us has a limited life on this earth and then an uncertain future. I have tried to make this life truly count. I need to make a difference and have an impact on this world. I need to leave something that lasts beyond me--my children, my books.

I need to live a full life, not a wasted life.

If I were blind, I would learn Braille and buy tapes. I would get a service animal. And I would teach myself to listen much more closely.

I enjoy seeing the world.. I love the sight of the ocean or a newborn baby. But if I became blind, I would adapt.

I don't notice much how people look, and I often have a hard time placing names and faces together. But I do generally notice their essence. That is, their general personality or how they approach life. If they've told me an interesting anecdote, I'll remember that, too. Then I can associate those things with the name, and remember.

Trust has always been easy for me. I believe this is because I was able to trust my parents, and they built my trust. They are two of the most honest people I know. My father is gone now, but I know I can trust anything my mother says, and we always have honest conversations.

Right now my mother is nursing me back to health (and doing an excellent job of it) after my two weeks in the hospital. I can trust that the food she prepares contains what she says it does, and I can trust that she'll have breakfast for me at around 7 a.m. every morning. I can trust that she'll respect the privacy of my room and my conversations with my husband when he comes to see me (it's easier for me right now to live with my mother than my husband, though my husband lives only four minutes away and I see him every day).

From the moment I was born, I knew I could trust my parents. This has shaped me into the person I am.

These early lessons are the most important. In recent years I have learned that I cannot always trust, and I have been burned.. But though the confidence given to me by my parents was shaken, it was not destroyed.

Moderate and healthy.

Yes, I am very curious.

I have always tried to listen to the conversations of others, not because I'm nosy but because I like to know what's going on. When I receive a package, I won't stop until I have an idea what is in inside. I like to know what's going on around me all the time, and be able to understand it.

This curiosity also extends to my pursuit of knowledge. When I was a child. I read our set of encyclopedias and, when I reached the end of each article where it was "see" such and such, I thought there was a movie I needed to watch. I wanted to know.

My curiosity leads me to read both fiction and non-fiction. I am driven to know more.

Sometimes I am dismayed at my childrens' lack of curiosity. They sometimes want to know, but at those times they ask me.

They say curiosity killed the cat. But I vote for satisfaction. In fact, I'm satisfied with nothing less.

I would cry a little and then gradually start all over again, this time probably accumulating a little less and being more grateful for what I have.

My mother. When I was little, she convinced me she was perfect. Now I know she's not, of course, and  yet I am always amazed at her judgment. She seems to know the best way to think (most efficient, most effective) and how to communicae ideas wth others who don't know English as well.

My mother always supported my marriage to my husband, though she recogized some of the pitffalls of an international marriage and the risks involved. She and my husband get along well and, in fact, I hadn't realized that they are a great deal alike.

My mother also taught me common sense in raising children, which has been invaluable. When my oldest was three and running me ragged she told me that when he turned four his behavior would be wonderful so I simply needed to be patient. She was right. From four through twenty-seven he has been mature and responsible. I simply needed to wait!

I feel very good.

Two or three weeks ago my doctors (and close family members) weren't sure I would last through the week or even the end of the day. At least, that's what I'm told. I don't remember, of course.

Not only am I alive, but my life is going well. I've gone from nearly immobile two weeks ago to walking easily around the room or even around the store. From practically starving myself, now I'm eating regular nutritious meals and feeling great (though still hungry much of the time). I'm gaining weight and being more active every day. I'm writing and reading and learning and growing.

In some ways, you could say that I've only just begun. My nutrition is still fundamental and needs more sophistication. My writing and reading are still amateur and rough. My walking is still slow and ambling. But I'm getting there.

Tomorrow, after seeing the doctor, I hope to go swimming. I'll go to the gym on some days, too, and get into shape. I want to be in better shape than I've ever been at any time in my life, even when I was 25.

And I can get there, insha Allah. With the help of Allah, I can do anything.

And I will.

What I want from beauty, wherever it is found, is that it serves a higher purpose and does not merely exist for its own sake. Beauty must also serve an objective and contribute to something greater than itself. Otherwise, it is useless.

Greatness is not in someone's accomplishments, but in how that person treats those around him or her.

Anyone can win awards or certificates or "best. . .". All it takes is a degree of determination and single-mindedness toward the goal.

But not everyone can be great. Greatness is not found among the arrogant or the proud. It is not for those who place themselves over others. Greatness is only for the humble.

An adult who helps a child. A child who defers to the wisdom of the adult. A teacher who puts everything into transmitting the lesson. A student who strives hard to learn, taking nothing for granted. A parent. A teenager. An honest politician. A humble athlete. Each of these is great, not. again, because of particular achievements, but because of an understand attitude toward life, one that recognizes the rights of others.

Only if someone has reached these heights can he or she attain true greatness.

I think it's an attempt to hold on to the past.

Facing the passing of time can be scary. Our bodies age, slowing down and growing stiff. Our hair may turn gray and our faces (as well as other parts of our bodies) may sag. We don't have the energy we had before. We grow older, losing some of physical vitality of our youth, and this makes us very uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, everything around us is changing. Political leaders come and go. Celebrities we knew as children die and new ones appear. Our children grow, becoming taller than us and sometimes even wiser. Technology changes and we find ourselves trying hard to keep up with every new innovation.

It would be easier if we could stay young, freezing ourselves at our favorite ages. But that would not be nearly as exciting.

In terms of character and habits I am generally very much like my parents. There was a time when I would have denied this and tried to disprove it, because I was young and foolish. But my parents are both honorable people and I'm proud to be like them in the ways that really count.

There are some differences, though, and these are based mostly on opportunity. Like my younger sisters, I graduated from college (and graduate school) even though neither parent has gone past two years of college, even as an adult. My mother wanted to attend college but, as a young woman in 1955, her options were limited. My father did attend for one year but wasn't inspired. He found a job in the defense industry and performed that same work for over 30 years.

I've traveled overseas, though my mother did that later (and of course my father went to Korea, courtesy of the US government). I married a man from a different country, and a different part of the world. (Though, on the other hand, my father--son of Greek immigrants--married a non-Greek, which was also unusual.)

I became a Muslim, which is something neither of my parents would ever have considered. My mother still doesn't think that Islam is right for her, but she accepts that it's right for me. This is definitely the biggest difference.

Outside of that, though, there isn't much to tell. And I'm mature enough to realize how great that is!

I'm too stubborn. Recently, my stubborness went to far that it threatened my health and even my life. I'm still stubborn, even after that experience, but I'm trying to temper it just a little.

My stubborness has always given me problems, though. There are times when I want to just give in, but I can't. I don't know what pushes me.

What I like the most about myself is probably also what I like the least. I am very stubborn, very determined. At its worst, this characteristic pushes me beyond even my own limits, to the point that I cannot always defend my actions (or inaction).  But at its best, my stubborn determination urges me to keep striving and keep achieving. It won't let me let up or lag, and this makes me stronger and fulfills my ambitions. Without this determination, I couldn't have completed my education or finished writing even a single novel. I wouldn't have dared try to raise six children. I would be a shadow of who I am.

There are times when I would like to rein it in and make it go away, but overall I'm happy to be both stubborn and determined. These personality traits have gone a long way toward making me who I am.

It's hard to remember how it feels because it hardly ever happens.

I'm the mother of six boys and my husband and I have been married for 28 years. They are very used to the sound of my voice and very accustomed to tuning it out. They are also very selective in what they listen to. When my older kids were teens, I would perform an experiment to illustrate their selective hearing. First I gave them an order, such as wash the dishes, in my normal voice. There was usually no response. Then I lowered my voice to a whisper and said something about a special treat. They never failed to hear and respond to that.

Gender stereotypes are inappropriate to some, but I can't help thinking that selective hearing is more common among males. I observed it in my father as well as later in my husband and sons. My experience is that females are more likely to have our radar up and hear, sometimes, too much rather than too little (when I was young I was accused of eavesdropping, and the allegations were true!).

So I'll go ahead and say it. I have lived in a male household for the last 28 years. Why should I expect anyone to actually listen to me?

(Truthfully, it does happen sometimes--more often now that four of my boys are men. And it is always wonderful.)

Many things refresh me and renew my soul.

When I was a teacher, certain movies helped me come back to life after a tough week. These ranged from Hook to My Fair Lady. If I had conflict with someone at the school, Tetris helped me eliminate the tension.

I'm out of teaching now and my needs for rejuvenation have changed. Now I get most of my energy from my children. Each of them has certain traits that reinvigorate me, making me laugh or simply making me proud. One will analyze and another is always good for tossing out a puzzler. Another enjoys a good argument. All six of them keep me young and refreshed.

I don't know what I would do without them!

Night time is my time. My mind becomes clearer. I'm relaxed and feeling free. Creative thoughts, difficult during the day, fly without restriction. Night time is so nice, so peaceful, so productive that often I don't want to go to sleep.

Eventually I do force myself to go to bed. After a few minutes or half an hour of reading I'm actually able to close my eyes and drift away. But my wish is that I didn't need sleep and I could stay up every night, all night, writing and creating, thinking and dreaming with my eyes wide open.

My first thought, when I read this question, was What is there not to love? A moment later the answer came to me:  temperature extremes, poisonous snakes, tornadoes, and so on.

And yet, we have beautiful sunsets, oceans, and mountains. There are a variety of plants and animals that provide us food, resources, and inspiration. I thought of the beauty of fresh fallen snow and the wonderful warmth of the summer sun upon my face.

How can I say what I love about nature? The world is too vast to name it all.

As a teacher, and a mother, I've heard plenty of questions that didn't really need to be asked. Is class almost over? Do we have to take our books home? Are we there yet? These are the moments that can eventually test the patience of even the most forbearing teacher, or mother.

But I love the questions that have substance. When a student asks me to explain the causes of World War I. When my son wants to know why some Americans support seemingly endless wars. When a child asks "Why?" and then "What can I do about it?"

Real questions are those with real, substantial answers, questions that are relevant to our lives and are asked not to annoy, or out of boredom, but to know.

The old is much more appealing to me, on many levels.

When my husband and I were in the market for a house, I specified to the realtor that we didn't want anything built after 1970. The date isn't precise, but I knew with an older house we wouldn't face the problem of building materials that sickened me. The house we bought, built in 1965, is made of real wood, not synthetic materials. It does make a difference.

We also furnished our home with older furniture. My dresser and desk were found in an antique store. Nothing is new and modern. Actually, if I could find it, I might like to throw in a piece from the 60s when the decor was bold and, well, groovy.

I enjoy being with older people also. Earlier today I was thinking about my grandparents, especially my grandfather, and all I learned from him. Children can be fun to be around, but there is something special about hearing a story from someone who can offer a very different perspective of time and experience.

New can be nice. I enjoy learning about the newest technology. I love finding out about the newest books. Newborn babies are precious.

But the old has a special quality.