Tale#16: Bedtime Tales: Episode4: The Pebble in the Pocket| Saturday
Tiny sparks, struck daily, forge the fire of legends
Little deeds, done consistently, build great character and reward.
It was a breezy Thursday afternoon. The sun outside was golden, peeking through the blinds of the cozy living room, where the sound of shuffling papers and a slightly dramatic sigh broke the peace.
Zayn sat at the dining table, his chin resting on his math notebook, but his Quran notebook lay wide open—untouched.
Aymen stood by the kitchen island, stirring a pot of soup. She could sense it without even turning around.
“Zayn?”
“Mmm?” he replied without lifting his head.
“Did you revise your surah today?”
Zayn groaned. “I forgot again. I was going to… after lunch. Or maybe before. But then I started math, and then Sara wanted help with the Lego set and then—”
Aymen turned, a gentle but knowing smile on her face.
“You mean… life happened?”
Zayn gave a sheepish nod.
Sara, sprawled on the floor nearby with Lego bricks scattered like colorful confetti, chimed in:
“He always forgets. Like… every single day. And then he tries to do it really fast before bedtime.”
Zayn scowled. “Hey, that’s not true. I did it yesterday.”
“Yeah,” Sara smirked, “and forgot the day before, and the day before that...”
Aymen walked over, wiped her hands on a towel, and sat beside Zayn. She ruffled his hair.
“You know what your problem is?”
“What?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“You’re trying to build a garden by planting everything in one day… and then forgetting to water it.”
Zayn blinked. “Huh?”
Aymen leaned in, eyes soft and full of mischief.
“Let me tell you a story. One I’ve never told you before.”
The Boy and the Pebbles
“There was once a boy named Sami,” she began, “who lived in a small, green town—where fog kissed the trees every morning, and the masjid had a little rose garden in front. Sami was kind, smart, and full of dreams. He wanted to become a hafiz, help people, memorize ahadith… you name it. Big dreams.”
Zayn tilted his head. “Like me.”
“Exactly like you,” Aymen smiled.
“But Sami had a problem—just like you. He would start things with fire in his heart… and then forget. He’d say, ‘I’ll recite Surah Al-Kahf every Friday!’ and forget. ‘I’ll say SubhanAllah 100 times every night!’—then forget. Weeks would pass, and his dreams felt far away again.”
Sara paused her Lego building and looked up.
“So what did he do?”
Aymen’s eyes sparkled.
“One day, while visiting his grandfather’s farm, he found a smooth little pebble near the river. He picked it up and slipped it into his pocket—just for fun. But his grandpa noticed and asked, ‘Why that pebble?’”
Sami shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It feels nice to hold.’
*“His grandfather smiled and said, ‘Then let it remind you to hold onto something even better—your deeds. Every time you touch it, do one good thing. A dhikr. A kind word. A line of Quran. Something small—but do it every day.’”
“So he did,” Aymen continued.
“He started carrying that pebble every day. And every time he slipped his hand into his pocket, he remembered: One good deed. One small act. He’d say ‘Astaghfirullah’ once. Or help his mom with groceries. Or open the mushaf and read just one ayah.”
Zayn sat up straighter.
“That’s it? Just one?”
“Just one,” Aymen nodded. “But he didn’t stop. That one became two. Then three. It became his habit. His quiet secret. His pebble was a tiny reminder… of something far greater.”
“But what about the jar?” Sara asked, eyes wide.
Aymen’s smile grew.
“After a while, his grandfather gave him a glass jar and said, ‘Every month, replace your pebble with a new one—and drop the old one in here. These are not just stones. They are your days. Your efforts. Your growth.’”
She paused for effect.
“By the end of the year, that jar was full of pebbles. But more importantly, Sami’s heart was full of habits. Dhikr came naturally to him. He could recite surahs with ease. He felt connected—all because he chose to start small, but stay steady.”
The living room was silent now.
Zayn slowly reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a little button.
“Can I use this instead?”
Aymen chuckled. “Sure. Just make sure it reminds you to show up. Even if it’s just one ayah.”
Sara stood up and grabbed a small purple Lego piece.
“I’m gonna carry this! Mine will remind me to say something nice every day.”
Aymen looked at them both, heart warm and full.
“You know what the Prophet ﷺ said? The most beloved deeds to Allah are those that are consistent—even if they’re small.”
Zayn nodded slowly, the lesson settling into his chest like a pebble in a calm pond.
“So... if I keep at it,” he said, “maybe one day I’ll have my own jar?”
Aymen leaned in and kissed his forehead.
“You will. And it’ll be full—not just of pebbles, but of light.”
That night, before bed, Zayn opened his Quran notebook.
Just one ayah. Just one.
But this time, he didn’t forget.
Because in his pocket, a button whispered back: Show up.