Noor and the Lantern in the Storm

Noor was scared of the dark. Not a little scared. A LOT scared. She slept with two nightlights, the hallway lamp, and sometimes a flashlight under her pillow just in case. So when the storm knocked out the power on the night her grandmother was visiting, Noor's heart started doing scared little flips.

Her grandmother sat down next to her on the bed. She had a small oil lantern that flickered warm and gold. 'Noor,' she said softly, 'do you know why Allah is called An-Nur?' Noor shook her head. 'It means The Light. Surah An-Nur — chapter twenty-four — even has an ayah that says Allah is the Light of the heavens and the earth.'

Noor stared at the lantern. The little flame danced. 'So… Allah is like this lantern?' Her grandmother smiled. 'Bigger. Brighter. Allah's light reaches places no lamp can reach. Into the deep ocean. Into the inside of a seed. Into your heart when you are scared.'

Noor thought about that. 'My heart has light?' Her grandmother nodded. 'Every believer has a lantern inside. It glows brighter when you pray, when you say bismillah, when you are kind. And no storm in the world can blow it out. Only you can, by forgetting Allah.'

Noor closed her eyes. She put her hand on her chest, where she imagined her tiny lantern was. She whispered, 'Bismillah. Ya Allah, please keep my lantern bright.' The storm howled outside. The oil lantern flickered. But Noor — for the first time in her whole life — felt the dark wasn't quite so dark.

When the power came back the next morning, Noor unplugged one of her nightlights. Just one. A small start. 'I don't need it,' she told her grandmother, very seriously. 'I have a lantern.'