I still remember the first time I saw her. She was younger than me but had a grace I had never seen before. My name isn’t written in any surah, but I was one of the girls who helped tend the temple in Jerusalem. We swept the stones, brought water for the elders, and kept quiet when teachings were read. But Maryam — you may know her as Mary, the mother of Isa (Jesus) — was not like the rest of us.
Maryam had been brought to the temple by her mother’s promise. Her mother, unable to have children for many years, had begged Allah for a child — and when He gave her Maryam, she vowed to dedicate her to His service completely. That’s how Maryam came to live inside the temple.
At first, I was curious. How could someone so young spend her days alone in worship? Didn’t she get tired of silence? Or bored of repeating prayers?
But something about Maryam made me stop and stare.
Each morning, while others were still rubbing sleep from their eyes, Maryam was already awake. I once passed by her little space near the eastern wall and heard her whispering words of praise — quietly but with so much love that my chest tightened. She did not pray because someone told her to. She prayed because her heart was full.
What amazed me most was the food.
I saw it first in winter — fresh fruits that only grew in summer. I whispered to another girl, “Where did she get these?” She shrugged. Later, I saw Zakariyya — the prophet Zechariah, who had been entrusted with her care — enter Maryam’s chamber. When he saw the food, he asked, “O Maryam, from where is this for you?”
And she answered, simply, “It is from Allah. Surely, Allah provides for whom He wills without limit.”
Even writing this, I feel goosebumps. The way she said it — not with pride, not with arrogance, but with deep certainty. As if she had no doubt that Allah, the Most Generous, saw her devotion and loved her purity.
After that day, something changed in me.
I had always thought being close to Allah meant memorizing the right words, following every step perfectly. But from Maryam, I learned that true worship comes from the heart. It is not about being seen — it’s about who you are when no one is watching.
Sometimes, I still think about her, sitting quietly by the temple wall, her head bowed in prayer. I remember the peace that seemed to surround her. In her solitude, she wasn’t lonely. She was close — closer than any of us — to the One who hears every whisper and answers every call.
And I ask Allah to make my heart like hers — full of light, without need of the world's praise, only His.
—
Inspired by Surah Al-Imran, 3:35–37 and classical commentaries on the life of Maryam (Mary), the mother of Isa (Jesus).
I still remember the first time I saw her. She was younger than me but had a grace I had never seen before. My name isn’t written in any surah, but I was one of the girls who helped tend the temple in Jerusalem. We swept the stones, brought water for the elders, and kept quiet when teachings were read. But Maryam — you may know her as Mary, the mother of Isa (Jesus) — was not like the rest of us.
Maryam had been brought to the temple by her mother’s promise. Her mother, unable to have children for many years, had begged Allah for a child — and when He gave her Maryam, she vowed to dedicate her to His service completely. That’s how Maryam came to live inside the temple.
At first, I was curious. How could someone so young spend her days alone in worship? Didn’t she get tired of silence? Or bored of repeating prayers?
But something about Maryam made me stop and stare.
Each morning, while others were still rubbing sleep from their eyes, Maryam was already awake. I once passed by her little space near the eastern wall and heard her whispering words of praise — quietly but with so much love that my chest tightened. She did not pray because someone told her to. She prayed because her heart was full.
What amazed me most was the food.
I saw it first in winter — fresh fruits that only grew in summer. I whispered to another girl, “Where did she get these?” She shrugged. Later, I saw Zakariyya — the prophet Zechariah, who had been entrusted with her care — enter Maryam’s chamber. When he saw the food, he asked, “O Maryam, from where is this for you?”
And she answered, simply, “It is from Allah. Surely, Allah provides for whom He wills without limit.”
Even writing this, I feel goosebumps. The way she said it — not with pride, not with arrogance, but with deep certainty. As if she had no doubt that Allah, the Most Generous, saw her devotion and loved her purity.
After that day, something changed in me.
I had always thought being close to Allah meant memorizing the right words, following every step perfectly. But from Maryam, I learned that true worship comes from the heart. It is not about being seen — it’s about who you are when no one is watching.
Sometimes, I still think about her, sitting quietly by the temple wall, her head bowed in prayer. I remember the peace that seemed to surround her. In her solitude, she wasn’t lonely. She was close — closer than any of us — to the One who hears every whisper and answers every call.
And I ask Allah to make my heart like hers — full of light, without need of the world's praise, only His.
—
Inspired by Surah Al-Imran, 3:35–37 and classical commentaries on the life of Maryam (Mary), the mother of Isa (Jesus).
