Sunrise on the morning of Arafah – the peak of Hajj, and the best day of the year. It’s 13 years since we were there.

At this time, we were likely on the bus – me nauseous, but grateful to have made it on, after less-than-ideal logistical arrangements. But such irritations are to be expected when over 3 million people need to move from site to site over a period of a few days.

This morning, I sit outside a house I never thought we’d live in, after all those years ago, when our beloved former home was more than enough for the three of us.

Things changed, though.

We’re four now (plus a cat). And – though separate – my two parents are also here. Their final move, which I always knew would happen, but didn’t know when.

The grass in front of me – in the filled in swimming pool – is freshly cut, as a robin visits, seeking its morning sustenance. A saying of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) springs to mind:

“If you were to rely upon Allah with the reliance He is due, you would be given provision like the birds: They go out hungry in the morning and come back with full bellies in the evening.”

Tawakkul – reliance on God – was the key, lived lesson of my Hajj all those years ago, of course. I forget that too often.

Alhamdullilah – I thank Allah – for the journal I kept on that trip, and the blog series I wrote over the 21 months after our return.

Memories fade, but those written records refresh them. Last night, I read through the series – the final segment, which covered the days of Hajj. It filled my heart with gratitude for what we had. A feeling which extended into this early morning, which has been immensely spiritual, and naturally ended with writing – which is my constant companion through good and bad. I’ve already felt the blessings of this day, even though the most crucial part of it – for those on Hajj – is yet to come.

I was listening to a Hajj-related talk last night, where the speaker reflected on the miraculous inner journey of the Hajj. How – when we go – the transformation for our souls is one of our lifetime of sin to spotless purity. And then on top of that, the reward – of an accepted Hajj – is Paradise.

And then we gain more good deeds, to build onto that clean slate. I reflected on that in the days after Arafah, 13 years ago. I likened it to starting from a clean, flat base, and in those last days of Hajj, building this ‘mountain of deeds’ which would serve as our spiritual protection for the rest of our lives once we returned home.

And I wonder if my own mountain has been decimated by now. Of course, it was naïve to expect – or even hope – to stay on that level of spirituality. But I still did, because those were days of such purity, clarity, and hope.

But – like the post-Ramadaan decline – a drop was always inevitable. One can never stay on such highs forever. It’s just that the nature of the drop is different, because Hajj only comes once in a lifetime (for most), not annually like Ramadaan.

But Allah knows our hearts. Allah knows our intentions. And Allah always knew how our lives would change once we got back. Each and every one of us.

Since then, some have already left this world. But the rest of us have lived through 13 years of life back home.

Perhaps, for the older ones, there haven’t been many life changes in this period. But we were relatively young. I was 30, and my wife was 27.

We’ve since had another child. Went through numerous housing changes. Lost a father (my father-in-law). Went through the loss of our then-only-child’s carefree toddlerhood, when school pushed its anxiety-birthing presence into our lives. The same applies to our younger child.

I changed jobs, as did my wife (though she always came back to the same one – the school which has been her base for so long).

We went through a pandemic. I had an operation. My wife and kids suffered a horrible crime, before she suffered a terrible hiking slip which became a saga of pain and long-term recovery.

In the years after Hajj, my writing took off, then crashed, then moved into the long-held dream of publishing books: two solely my own, and another compiled be me, with one more of that kind in progress now.

I was published in numerous places – even print books in other countries. I wrote a children’s story, which was recorded as a podcast episode.

We came to seeming abundance with this house, but – as is common in life – also found the other side: extreme stresses and heightened responsibilities.

Our personal relationships changed, with loved ones going through major life events.

Life moves on. Things change.

But Allah is always near. Always with us.

And our bond with Him is what we have to hold firmly to. We have to nourish and nurture our relationship with our Creator. Because that’s what drives all success, and it’s what helps us to adapt to the ever-changing seasons of our lives.

And it’s the only bond that will stay with us when we make the biggest transition of our existence thus far: from the life of this world to the life after death.

May Allah always keep us conscious of that, and enable us to do our best for His sake – whatever Life brings us…