In May of 2011, Sister Jann McClary and her husband Tariq moved from the Washington DC metropolitan area to establish a new home in the mountains of Colorado, building it from the ground up as part of their plan to become free of the spiritual and physical stress of modern urban life. Sister Jann is documenting her experiences for the Muslim Link. See her earlier installments at www.muslimlinkpaper.com by searching for "Running for the Hills". Make sure you select "Exact Phrase" in the search options. – TML
Well, we've finally done it. We built ourselves a house, bi'idhnillah. One thousand, seven hundred and thirty days since we broke ground for the foundation, minus about 387 days for weather too wet or cold to work and the occasional sick day. “But wait a minute Sis. Jann”, you say, “You started this column in 2014, so it's only been a little over two years, right?” Ah...no. We started building way before I began sharing our experiences with you. It's just that our plans and the plans of Allah 'azza wa jal don't always match up. But that's fine because as much as we keep telling ourselves 'Maybe it'll be this winter', Allah is al-Khair-ul Maakireen, the Best of Planners, and He knows when it will be best for us to finally haul in the furniture, plug up the solar panels and move in. (Pssst... ya Rabb, make it soon...please?)
Ma sha Allah, here's what we've been able to accomplish: Our cabin is officially dried in! That means doors and windows keep out the wind, and the metal roof over our heads protects from snow and rain. Getting the roof up was such a mercy because Allah subhana wa t'ala kept us from any harm as I teetered on top of the roof frame screwing in each 17-foot long plank that Tariq pushed up to me. And he kept us from harm when Tariq donned a safety harness and did his best imitation of Spiderman as he clung to the ridgepole to tack the moisture barrier onto those planks. Once the metal roof went on with the help of neighbors, neither drafts, nor snow, nor rain was able to sneak through, and we felt as sheltered and protected as when Allah says in Surat-ul Anbiyaa that He made the heaven a roof, safe and well-guarded.
One of the main features of a home that makes it feel all snug and welcoming is its source of heat. We knew we didn't have the expertise required to build a stone fireplace, so we bought an old-fashioned wood-burning stove. It looked like a weather-worn, rusted, hot mess when we got it from the homestead of some friends, and truth be told, it was, because sitting outside on a pallet year after year at the mercy of the elements that reign at 8,000 feet up in the mountains will do that. So our friends hauled it down the mountain for us, glad to be rid of one more piece of forsaken funky furniture. My dear Ummi, wanting to give us a house warming gift, took the concept quite literally and paid to have our stove refinished, refurbished and refitted with new piping. Another friend, with seemingly little fear of Allah's stratosphere, clambered up an absurdly high ladder to install our stovepipe through our equally steep roof. So the stove that initially took six people to move has been put in place and fired up this past winter. It warms the cabin so well that salaat during the cold months will be a cozy affair, insha Allah.
I won't bore you with the success of my garden other than to say that its lack of such is teaching me patience, and in spite of my best niyyah, du'aat and soil manipulations, Allah has seen fit to allow me to patronize our farmers' market again this year for my vegetable needs. Alhamdulillah for those whose thumbs are greener than mine.
We have a permanent places to store lots of city water, until Allah grants us the rizq to be able to dig a well of our own. We have a small wood shed for now, but plan to expand it to house all the dead and dying trees we've tagged for future cutting and splitting. And we've installed the plumbing that will allow us to finally banish our bevy of 7-gallon water jugs to the storage shed. And my darling Binti has a teen's dream: her very own bayt. It's a free-standing, private, tiny-cabin with bed, wudhu room, and space for entertaining a friend or two, all less than twenty feet from our door, if she feels so moved to visit us.
Designing our homestead's layout, constructing foundations, raising buildings and caring for the land, all under the watch of Allah 'azza wa jal has made us very aware of what we're trying to do: build on two levels. There are adventures, situations, crises and issues, both with the land and people around us. They are constant reminders of His Power in all that we are able to achieve and experience, and in what we receive and what is removed from us. It's a constant reinforcement of Who is really in control (and it's not the building permit office), and Who we need to rely upon (and it's not friends with power tools and trucks), and in Who we will ultimately meet. The things we do here, now, in this life, are the blue print for the house we hope to have in Jannah. It's been a challenging, but worthwhile five years building this house. We'd like to rest now, but we still have work to do to meet the One “Who, out of His Grace, has lodged us in a home that will last forever, where toil will touch us not, nor weariness will touch us." (Surat-ul Faatir; Ayat 35). “Salaamun alaikum, for you have persevered in patience. Excellent indeed is the final home.” (Surat-ul Ar Raad; Ayat 24).
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