Homesickness. It’s peoples number one excuse for why they don’t want to work in a new country. And to be honest when I first moved here I thought it would plague me. After moving to Qassim I was so upset I wasn’t in Riyadh I woke up from a dead sleep at 4am and cried because I wanted to go home so badly.
Alhamdulillah, those feelings have passed and I really love where I am. I never feel homesick to be honest. But I do miss something more than I miss Chipolte, and Allah knows I really miss Chipolte.
I miss my mosque. Like I really, really miss it. Women here don’t attend the mosque regularly like they do back home, so it’s not like I can try to find a new mosque.
But even if I did find a different mosque, it wouldn’t feel like home. It wouldn’t be my mosque, you know? The mosque in Huntington, while not big, has really had a huge impact on my life. It’s where I gave my heart over to Allah for the first time. It’s where I attended my first halaqa. I strengthened my bond with the Ummah in my masjid. I invited people to my mosque,and later they accepted Islam too. I have cleaned there, attended youth groups there, ate there, laughed there, cried there. I prayed for the first time in my mosque. I’ve stained the carpet with my tears during sujood there. And while I know it isn’t my mosque, it feels like my home.
There is proverb that says “Home is where the heart is.” Allah knows that my home mosque is my heart.