The Cloud That Travelled

The picnic blanket was spread soft and red beneath the apple tree. Zaynab lay on her back with her hands behind her head, gazing up at the enormous blue sky. Omar was beside her, wiggling his toes in the warm grass. Musa the cat had found a sunny patch nearby and was lazily swatting at a yellow butterfly that fluttered just out of reach.

"Look, Omar," Zaynab whispered, pointing upward. "That cloud looks like a ship with big white sails."

Omar squinted up at the sky. A huge, fluffy cloud was drifting slowly across the blue, its edges glowing golden where the sun touched them. "I wonder where it's going," he said, his voice full of wonder. "Do clouds have a home? Do they know where to travel?"

Mother walked over from the kitchen window, a plate of juicy watermelon slices in her hands. She set the plate down gently between them and lay back on the blanket too, her head next to Zaynab's. "What a beautiful question, my brave adventurer," she said softly. "Would you like to imagine the cloud's journey?"

Omar nodded eagerly, his eyes still fixed on the sky. "Maybe it started all the way over the ocean," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Maybe it sailed over whales and coral reefs and sandy deserts. Maybe it stopped to wave at eagles and camels and little boats!"

Zaynab smiled at the thought. "And maybe it carried water from the sea," she added, "all the way up into the sky, to give to flowers and trees and ponds and rivers."

Mother wrapped one arm around each of them and pulled them close. "Allah tells us in the Qur'an that He is the One who sends the winds to stir the clouds," she said. "He carries them wherever He wills, and then He tells them where to let the rain fall. The cloud doesn't decide — Allah, Al-Qadeer, The All-Powerful, decides."

Zaynab's eyes grew wide and thoughtful. "So Allah guides every single cloud?"

"Every single one," Mother replied. "The tiny ones and the giant ones. The ones over our garden and the ones over mountains far, far away. Allah is Al-Qadeer — He has power over everything."

Just then, Musa the cat leaped straight up in the air, paws reaching for the butterfly, and tumbled softly onto the blanket. Everyone laughed. Even Musa seemed to grin with his whiskers.

Omar sat up and looked at Mother with a serious face. "But what about when the clouds go dark and grey? Are those clouds lost?"

"No, my love," Mother said gently. "Those clouds are carrying something precious — rain. Watch."

As if on cue, the fluffy white ship-cloud began to change. Its edges turned soft grey, and it drifted closer, gathering with other clouds above the garden. The sky became a beautiful blanket of silver and purple. A cool breeze rustled the apple-tree leaves.

"Here it comes," Zaynab whispered, holding Mother's hand.

The first raindrop landed on Omar's nose with a tiny tap. He giggled. Then another fell on Zaynab's hand, and another on the blanket, until soft, gentle rain was pattering all around them. Mother quickly gathered the watermelon, and they scampered under the covered porch, Musa dashing between Omar's legs.

From the porch, they watched the rain. It fell on the flowerbeds, and the thirsty soil drank it up. It dripped from the apple-tree branches, and a little bird hopped out from under a leaf, shaking droplets from its feathers before flying to a branch to sing. The grass seemed to turn greener right before their eyes.

"Look how happy everything is," Zaynab said, pointing at a pink flower lifting its head to catch the rain. "The rain is like a drink for the whole garden."

"And for us too," Omar added. "Rain helps the apples grow, and the wheat, and the vegetables. Farmers need it. Animals need it. Even the rivers and lakes need it."

Mother knelt down between them and looked out at the silver curtain of rain. "The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ taught us to thank Allah when the rain falls," she said. "Because rain is one of Allah's greatest blessings. It is mercy from the sky."

Zaynab closed her eyes and whispered, "Allahumma sayyiban nafi'an."

Omar whispered it too: "O Allah, make it beneficial rain."

When the rain slowed to a gentle whisper, a rainbow arched across the sky — pink and green and gold, like a bridge of light. Musa sat on the windowsill, tail curled neatly around his paws, watching a snail trace a silver path across the wet stones.

"Allah is so powerful," Zaynab said softly. "He made the clouds travel. He made the rain fall. He made the rainbow. And He made all of this just for us to see and love Him more."

Omar put his arm around his sister's shoulder. "Al-Qadeer is amazing," he said. "Let's remember Him every time we see a cloud."

Mother smiled, her heart full. "That," she said, "is the seed of Tawheed growing in your little hearts."