Just this morning, I found myself thinking about how profoundly different this Ramadan has been from those before it. It began with an unexpected health scare for a loved one. Alhamdulillah for الشافي , for incredible doctors, and for the duaas and unwavering support of wonderful family and friends, things are headed in the right direction. We trust in Him fully to lead us out of this unscathed.

As we came to terms with the first trial, global political absurdity led us into the middle of an unexpected military engagement—one that for reasons I cannot fully articulate, has carried with it a surprising calm in my heart. Perhaps, having watched the young and old from Gaza recite حسبنا الله و نعم الوكيل for two years with unwavering faith—despite the magnitude of their ordeal—has toughened me to a point where little seems to matter besides knowing that I’m being watched over by الحكيم Who’s infinite wisdom placed me in these circumstances. So I have no need for doubt or fear. He placed me here because I needed to be here at this precise moment in history.

And then, as if that were not enough, the children were suddenly home as distance learning was announced for a week. And before we knew it, their Spring Holidays were pulled also back two weeks. While the freedom from the school run during the last ten days of Ramadan was an immense blessing, the absence of a known routine has always weighed heavily on my heart.

I am, at heart and in practice, a true planner. Eid clothes and gifts are prepared before Ramadan begins, or at the very latest, in its opening days. Alongside the daily mundane chore-list, I have ibaadaat and duaa checklists that I feel a deep need to complete within the month to avoid feeling deficient.

But over the past year, a lot has changed internally. I have begun, slowly and somewhat reluctantly, to incorporate uncertainty into my planning. It sounds counterintuitive, but to a fellow planner, it might make sense. It means being slightly flexible, it means writing 4pm next to a task rather than 4-4.30pm. It means that no matter how much your inner core screams when something pills beyond the 4.30 mark, you’re able to take a deep breath and continue, because Allah the خير الماكرين (The Best of Planners) willed for this task to extend beyond my shortsighted plan. No matter how many calculations I make I will never be able to account for every permutation. And yet, I have always tried.

Perhaps this is why, I feel like my Ramadan has felt less like a series of checkmarks and more like a scatter of efforts. I did some of this and some of that, but nothing that felt like a significant, measurable stride. And then I came across today’s episode of The Name I need, about الجامع (The Gatherer). It was as though Allah had drawn me to it precisely to relieve the heaviness setting in my chest as Ramadan quietly slips through our hands.

He is The Gatherer. He sews together our broken scattered efforts. He compiles them for us so they turn up for us whole, on the Day we will need them the most. When we cannot formulate a coherent duaa, He gathers the inarticulate tangle of words that come out of our pain and weaves them into something complete. Because He loves to hear us call upon Him. He loves every tear we shed in His presence when we rely entirely on Him. There is an inexplicable serenity in accepting how small we are in comparison with His كبرياء (grandeur).

So no matter how far you are from completing your checklist, or from coming up with one in the first place, knowing that we are in the loving hands of العفوّ (The Pardoner, Who pardons and erases the sin from our book of deeds altogether). He knows our limitations better than we know ourselves. To help gather our microscopic, fragmented, and incomplete efforts in these last ten nights of Ramadan, He gave us a duaa so concise it fits in a single breath—yet so vast in meaning that it encompasses everything we could ever need to ask. Knowing its depth leaves us with contentment; He will gather our scattered dots of worship, and that from His overflowing, boundless, voluntary giving, His جود, we will each receive far more than we could have asked for.

الّلهُمَّ إِنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ العَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّي

Oh Allah! You are the Pardoner, You love to Pardon, so pardon me