Tale#12: My Daughter Only Recites Quran in the Car — And I’m Okay with That
The Unexpected Request
It started with a simple request.
“Mama, can I read Quran?”
I nearly dropped my coffee. Sara sat in the backseat, her school bag resting beside her, kicking her feet against the seat in a rhythmic pattern. I turned my head slightly, raising an eyebrow in confusion.
“Right now?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “In the car.”
Of all the places. We had a whole setup at home—her little desk by the window, a special lamp, even a beautiful Quran stand I had picked out with so much care. But more often than not, when I asked her to sit and read, she resisted.
“I’m tired.”
“Can we do it later?”
“I don’t feel like it right now.”
Excuses stacked upon each other like building blocks. I worried, as any mother would. Was she losing her connection with the Quran? Was I doing something wrong? But now, out of nowhere, she wanted to recite—on the way to school, amidst honking cars and traffic lights?
I hesitated but reached for my phone instead of my bag. “Here,” I said, handing it to her. “You can open your Quran lesson.”
Sara’s face lit up. She unlocked the screen, navigated to her favorite Quran lesson video, and pressed play. The familiar voice of her teacher filled the car, reciting slowly, guiding her through the words. She followed along, whispering the verses, her eyes locked on the screen. Her fingers traced invisible lines in the air, mimicking the script on the screen.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. She wasn’t just listening—she was absorbing. Focused. Engaged. Enjoying it. It was an odd sight, yet something about it felt right.
A New Ritual
The next day, it happened again.
And the day after that.
Soon, it became our ritual. As soon as we buckled up, she would ask for my phone, open her lesson, and start practicing. Some days, she repeated after her teacher; other days, she hummed along, perfecting her pronunciation. I kept my charger handy now, making sure my phone always had enough battery for our drives.
At first, I wrestled with the idea. Shouldn't the Quran be read from a Mushaf in a more structured, respectful setting? Shouldn’t it be part of a dedicated time, with focus and stillness?
But then, one morning, I watched her in the mirror. She wasn’t just using a device—she was connecting. No fidgeting, no wandering thoughts. The outside world blurred, and she was lost in the rhythm of the verses. And I realized something—
Maybe the car was her quiet place.
At home, distractions were everywhere—homework, toys, the call of the television, the lure of running around in the backyard. But in the car, there was nothing but the road ahead. Maybe that was where her heart found stillness. Maybe, for her, the car was the best place to connect with the Quran.
A Lesson in Letting Go
I thought about the stories of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and how he met people where they were. How he nurtured love for Allah through kindness, not force. The goal was never to mold our children into one rigid method of learning, but to help them find their own path to loving the Quran.
And so, I let go of my expectations. I embraced our new habit, our stolen moments between red lights and green ones. Because in the end, it wasn’t about how she learned. It was that she learned at all.
One day, after finishing a verse, she looked up and smiled.
“Mama, I like learning in the car.”
I smiled back, slowing down just a little, hoping to stretch the moment. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
The Deeper Lesson
How often do we, as parents, insist that learning must look a certain way? That our children should connect with faith in the way we envision, at the time and place we deem appropriate? But what if their connection to the Quran is forming in ways we never expected? What if our role is not to control but to nurture—wherever that growth happens?
Faith is not confined to a prayer mat. The love for the Quran is not limited to a study desk. Sometimes, a child finds their connection with Allah in the simplest, most unconventional moments—on a car ride, between stoplights, in the middle of a busy morning.
So, the real question is: Are we recognizing these moments for what they are? Or are we too busy trying to shape them into something else?
And if you're facing challenges in your child's Quran learning journey and need real help, consider seeking guidance from a professional. ‘Ask Teacher Noura’ because sometimes, the right support makes all the difference.