The journey of building something meaningful is rarely a smooth ascent. It’s a winding path marked by exhilarating highs and crushing lows, moments of unwavering conviction and gnawing doubts. For the past 14 years, I’ve poured my heart into Sanad Trust Foundation, a labor of love born from a deep desire to preserve and nurture both family and faith through education and community. We’ve celebrated victories, navigated challenges, and witnessed the impact of collective effort. Recently however, we faced a setback that forced me to confront a difficult question: When do you let go of a dream?

The Dream That Slipped Away

We had found what seemed like the perfect property, a place that felt destined to become the permanent home of Sanad. I could practically see it: the vibrant community center bustling with life, the innovative microschool echoing with the laughter of children, the welcoming spaces where families and seniors could connect and find solace. I, along with my wife (and co-founder), our board, team, and even our students (with their duas) mobilized, fueled by a shared vision. We prepared our case, meticulously crafting a presentation that showcased the heart and soul of Sanad. We reached out to donors, their generosity a testament to the belief in our mission. But then, in a cruel twist of fate, it was gone. Another offer, a higher price, and the dream seemed to evaporate, leaving behind an aching void.

In the quiet aftermath, I wrestled with a maelstrom of emotions: disappointment, frustration, and a profound sense of loss. I questioned the path we were on, the countless hours invested, the sacrifices made, the 14 years. I explored alternative futures, even entertained the thought of stepping away from Sanad altogether. In this blessed Rabi al Awwal month, I retreated to my own metaphorical Hira cave, seeking solace and guidance amidst the darkness.

From Hira to Hope

But each time I emerged from my contemplation, my gaze would inevitably fall upon my family, my children, my community. As always, they inspired hope and served as a powerful reminder of the dream that moved us for 14 years – the dream of a space that would preserve the light of Allah’s deen and the love of His Messenger (peace and blessings be upon him) for them and posterity. It was a dream too precious, too vital to abandon.

This setback, though undeniably painful, became a catalyst for profound introspection. It tested our sincerity, our resolve, our yaqeen (certainty) in Allah’s plan. It reminded us that the journey towards a meaningful goal is rarely linear; it’s often marked by twists and turns, challenges that test our resilience and deepen our commitment.

— End of part 1.