By Dalia Mogahed | Religion News Service
(WASHINGTON POST) (RNS) — I was a new mother when murderous criminals flew two planes through the Twin Towers 20 years ago.
My son, Tariq, was a little over a year old, and I had taken that time off from my corporate job to be a full-time mom. We named Tariq after the 87th chapter of the Quran, a set of verses about guardian angels and God’s plan for each of us despite our apparent difficulties.
The melodic recitation explained that “Tariq” meant “a star of piercing brightness.” And my son was just that — a light in my life. Inquisitive, an early talker, incredibly affectionate. I loved being a mom. I threw myself into it fully like everything I do.
But there were also spans of days and sometimes weeks when I felt completely overwhelmed, inadequate and anxious.
