This is a little late, but I had to share a moment from my Ramadan this year—one that left a deep imprint on my heart.
I spent half of Ramadan in Morocco with my husband. We made the trip to spend time with my father-in-law, whose health has been fragile. And honestly? I love Ramadan. We tried to fast on the way there—because neither of us likes “owing” days—but that intention flew out the window somewhere over the Atlantic.
Morocco always brings me calm. There’s something about being on the African continent that grounds me—fewer distractions, quieter rhythms, more space to just be. As a bonus, masjids are everywhere. While the majestic Hassan II Masjid is a favorite, we prayed Tarawih most nights at the Saudi Masjid in Anfa, Casablanca. It was just a short 10-minute drive from where we stayed—easy, close, comforting.
Now, here’s where the lesson begins.
When you come from the West, praying in jama’ah (congregation) in a Muslim country can be… revealing. There’s a certain ruling that we must abide by when praying together in congregation. This isn’t to criticize or judge—please hear my heart. I’m just sharing what I noticed, and what it sparked in me.
So picture this.
We get a moving to the masjid for Tarawih and I hurry to the woman’s entrance admist the Atlantic wind blowing my abaya about. Then, I step into the women’s area and instantly feel a pang of jealousy. A group of sisters are already there—huddled in the front, hugging, reading Qur’an, completely immersed. MashaAllah.
I take a breath, scan for a spot, roll out my sajdah, pray my two raka’at, and then join the circle in quiet recitation.
The room hums. Duas. Quranic whispers. Soft salaams. Hearts preparing for ‘Isha.
And then—adhan.
We all rise. And I see it. I knew it and I always dread seeing it.
And its that gap in the line. And what’s more heart breaking are the responses when I ask to fill in the gaps.
The gaps were big ones. Each of us had brought our prayer rugs (often oversized), laying them down with comfort in mind. But when you stand in the middle of a wide rug, and the sister next to you does the same—those gaps between us aren’t just physical. They're symbolic.
In jama’ah, we’re meant to close the gaps. Shoulder to shoulder. Toe to toe. No space for Shaytan. No space for separation.
But that night, no one moved.
No one stepped forward.
No one wanted the inconvenience of gathering their things and adjusting their spot.
And in that moment, something clicked for me.
Those empty spaces… they weren’t just about salah. They were metaphors. Gaps in the line are the same as gaps in our lives.
The moment we hesitate to move forward because it’s uncomfortable, uncertain, or not what we planned—we stay stuck. We stay in our place because it’s already “set up.” It’s cozy. We’ve unpacked. Why move?
But here’s the thing, habibti—when you refuse to move, you miss the blessings waiting for you in that new space. The woman you didn’t choose to stand beside might be the one to gift you a silent dua that opens a door you’ve been waiting for.
And when we step up to close the shaf, we’re doing more than aligning our feet. We’re declaring, Ya Allah, I trust You more than I trust my own comfort. I’ll move forward. I’ll stand where You place me. I’ll show up, shoulder to shoulder, for something bigger than me.
That night, I ended up next to two women who smiled with sincerity, stood tall with love, and held space with their hearts. We didn’t know each other. But somehow, they felt like sisters. And in that moment, I realized:
By Allah’s grace, I’ve been stepping into the open spaces. In prayer. In life. In business.
And with His mercy, I’m now living what once was only a dream.
So here’s my invitation to you:
✨ What gap are you avoiding?
✨ What spot have you refused to step into because it wasn’t what you planned?
✨ What blessing might be waiting for you if you just move forward—even a little?
The journey doesn’t start when you’ve “figured it all out.”
It starts the moment you say: Yes. I’m ready to step up.
Ready to join me?
Let’s fill the gap together.
Let’s stand shoulder to shoulder.
Let’s begin—with what you have, from where you are.
💫 Your dream isn’t random. It’s amanah. Let’s honor it.
DM me “READY” and I’ll walk with you, step by step.
Learn more about Coach Gemi here.
