Assalamu Alaikum my dear friend

A week ago, I flew home a little earlier than my family after visiting my loved ones. At the airport—like I always do—I wandered into the bookshop. I love spending time there, skimming fresh arrivals in psychology and personal growth. This time I bought two books and tucked them into my carry-on.

A few days later my family flew the same route home… and—of course—visited the same bookshop. Two of my teenage kids started debating right in the aisle: “What do you think Dad would pick?” They didn’t even know I’d bought anything; they just know me—my tastes, my patterns, my brain. 🙂

When they reached home, one of the first things they asked was, “So… did you buy a book?” I smiled: “Two. Go check my desk.” They ran, burst back into the room a minute later, and—wallāhi—started dancing and laughing ecstatically.

Guess what? They had guessed the exact book. (If you’re wondering, it was Clear Thinking: Turning Ordinary Moments into Extraordinary Results by Shane Parrish.)

I stood there, extremely happy—not because they nailed a title out of thousands—but because my children know me. They’ve been quietly studying my life like a map. Our kids do this. They absorb more than we realise. When they’re unsure, they look for certainty—and the first place they look is us. We are the mirror they use to adjust themselves.

That’s why parenting—good parenting—is perhaps the hardest job on earth… and the most rewarding, in this world and the next. If our children grow into goodness, life becomes more peaceful before the Ākhirah. 

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said the believer is like a date palm—deep-rooted, steady, beneficial in every season. A righteous child is like that palm in your life—offering shade, fruit, and strength long after they’ve grown tall.

And in the Ākhirah? The rewards are beyond our comprehension—and raising them well could be a ticket to Jannah. As you know, a child’s good deeds continue to benefit the parents.

The Prophet ﷺ gave glad tidings about raising daughters in particular—whoever cares for three daughters and treats them well has a path to Jannah; in other narrations, even two. Scholars explain that while these narrations honour daughters with special virtue, raising any child with iḥsān and taqwā brings immense reward from Allah subuhanawut’ala. The spirit is clear: the home is a garden, and the gardener’s hands are written in the harvest.

Yes, it’s hard. Good parenting stretches us in every direction. You’re tired, deadlines are heavy, little hearts are unpredictable. And yet—this is the work that outlives us. This is our legacy. So I asked myself: if my children are looking into me as their mirror, what kind of reflection am I offering them today? What small, practical things make that mirror clearer?

Here are a few gentle ways I’m trying to be a cleaner mirror (perhaps they help you too):

• Model what you want multiplied. Read where they can see you. Pray where they can hear you. Say “Bismillah” out loud. Praise others behind their back. Quietly put your phone away when they walk in. Children copy patterns, not speeches.
  
  
• Repair quickly. You will slip. I do too. Raise your voice, say the wrong thing? Apologise within the hour. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m trying to do better.” Repair isn’t weakness—it’s a sunnah of strength. It teaches them what to do with their own mistakes.
  
  
• Catch the good, often. Aim for five honest praises for every correction. “I noticed how you helped your sister.” “I loved your smile today.” “Mā shā’ Allāh, that was thoughtful.” Fill the bank before you make withdrawals.
  
  
• Choose presence over perfection. Ten unhurried minutes on the floor, a shared walk, a bedtime du‘ā together—small, consistent rituals write deep lines in the heart.
  

Because the truth is, our children are always asking—often without words—“Where do I find certainty?” And our lives are quietly answering. 

In simple terms, humans crave predictability because it feels safe. When life is uncertain, a child’s emotional brain looks for steady signals: a calm tone, consistent routines, warm eye contact, clear boundaries. They “borrow” our calm until they can grow their own. If we are scattered or harsh, their nervous system learns to be on alert; if we are grounded and kind, their nervous system learns to settle. That is why our everyday state—more than our occasional lectures—becomes their compass.

May Allah subuhanawut’ala make us worthy mirrors—soft where we should be soft, firm where we must be firm, and always turning back to Him when we fall short. May He grow our children into believers like the date palm—rooted, beneficial, and reaching toward the sky.

With love and gratitude,
Rushdhi

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