I had an Eid post written out, scheduled to automatically post last Wednesday. It recounted how the San Francisco community has grown over the past six years that Basil and I have lived here, from a time when iftar was just the two of us at home, to this year when we attended so many iftars, especially in the third week of Ramadan, that I began to yearn for that old solitude.

Following ISNA’s astronomical calendar rather than the moonsighting tradition meant a good number of people took Eid off from work and planned to gather in SF’s Holly Park for a celebratory barbeque together. Though I love the ritual and reasoning of moonsighting, the pre-set astronomical calculations seem to work well for many communities living in non-Muslim countries.

So, I planned to be at a park on Wednesday and at Zaytuna’s gathering on Friday evening, but on Monday night I got a frantic message from my best friend’s sister in the UK. She asked if I could fly to Ottawa immediately as she feared my friend was headed for another breakdown.

A few hours later, just before dawn, I was on my way. Even if I hadn’t been able to spend Eid as I had envisioned it, I thought to myself, I could still spend it with my beloved friend and her two daughters, though I had no idea what state of mind I would find her in.

I left summer in San Francisco and reached Ottawa, its forests already swirled with autumnal red and gold, on a rainy Tuesday evening to discover that they had already celebrated Eid, a day before SF would. It felt then, for a deeply disappointed moment, like I had spent Eid in airborne limbo, and in apprehension for her, instead of in joy at the fulfillment of Ramadan or at our meeting again after two long years, whatever the circumstances.

Later, it struck me that though I had planned to attend community festivities with friends and family, God had planned for me to serve my friend instead. There is something strange and beautiful in the fact that whatever our plans may be, often something better is written for us; and that our rizq (sustenance) is preordained for us – one day in San Francisco, and the next in Ottawa - through no planning or foresight of our own. 

It makes me realize yet again that so very little is in my hands. If I truly trusted the Hands that hold my life, then I could live each day fully, without sadness for the past or fear of the future. But to remain present - to remember that – is the challenge, isn’t it?

So often at the very moment the belief that I am cradled in the best of Hands falters, a beautiful twist of life arises to remind me.

She is better, alhamdolillah.

What more could I ask for on Eid?