Tale#25: Bedtime Tales: Episode13:The Glittery Sheep| Tuesday
It's Not About What We Sacrifice, It's About Why We Sacrifice.
It started with scissors, glue, and a big mess on the living room carpet.
Zayn had cut out a sheep that looked more like a potato with legs. Its eyes were mismatched, and one ear was mysteriously missing.
Sara, naturally, had made hers glamorous — with glittery hooves, long lashes, and a tiny pink ribbon on its head.
Aymen sat cross-legged on the floor beside them, flipping through a book of construction paper. The plan had been to decorate the house for Eid, but something about Zayn’s oddly lopsided sheep made her pause.
Zayn held it up proudly. “Mine’s going to be the Udhiyah sheep! The one we’re going to give to Allah.”
Sara rolled her eyes and flicked some glitter from her sleeve. “You don’t give sheep to Allah. You eat it, silly.”
Aymen smiled, not correcting either of them just yet. She leaned back on her hands, watching the sunlight filter through the curtains. The house smelled of cardamom tea and fresh dough rising in the kitchen.
Zayn turned to her, blinking. “Mama… do we really give it to Allah?”
Aymen tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… What do you think giving something to Allah means?”
Zayn shrugged. “Like… sending it up to the sky?”
Sara snorted. “Like a balloon sheep flying to Jannah.”
Aymen laughed softly. “Not quite. But I love how you’re both thinking.”
She reached for one of their paper sheep and held it up between them.
“Let me tell you a story,” she began, her voice dipping into that gentle, familiar storytelling tone that always made the kids sit a little straighter.
“Long ago, there was a Prophet named Ibrahim, alayhis salaam. He loved Allah more than anything in the world. One night, he saw a dream. In it, Allah asked him to sacrifice something very, very dear to him — his son, Ismail.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “His own son?”
Aymen nodded. “Yes. Can you imagine how hard that must have been? But Prophet Ibrahim trusted Allah completely. And when he told Ismail what Allah had asked… do you know what Ismail said?”
Zayn leaned in, whispering, “What?”
“He said, ‘O my father, do what you are commanded. You’ll find me, Insha’Allah, among the patient ones.’”
Sara's glitter pen froze in mid-air. “He agreed?”
“He did,” Aymen said softly. “Because both of them loved Allah more than anything — even more than they loved each other.”
Zayn’s potato-shaped sheep wobbled in his hand. “So… did he really do it?”
“No,” Aymen smiled. “Just as Ibrahim was about to do it, Allah stopped him. It was a test. A test of love, obedience, and submission. And they passed. So Allah sent a beautiful ram from Jannah instead.”
The room was quiet. Even Sara had set her sheep down.
Aymen continued, “That’s why we sacrifice a sheep on Eid ul Adha. Not because Allah needs it — He doesn’t need anything from us. But it’s a way for us to remember. To remember what it means to love Allah above all else.”
Sara looked at her glittery sheep. “So… it’s about giving up what we love?”
“Yes,” Aymen said. “Not just animals. Sometimes it’s comfort. Or pride. Or something that feels hard to give away. Like... your favorite dress. Or your Eid money. Or your time.”
Zayn blinked. “Like giving my best toy to someone who doesn’t have any?”
“Exactly,” she said, pulling them both into a hug. “When we do Qurbani, we’re not just giving meat. We’re giving a part of our heart. A part of our love for Allah.”
Sara looked thoughtful. “Then maybe I’ll give that sparkly scarf I’ve been saving to the girl down the street. She never has anything new on Eid.”
Zayn nodded. “And I won’t eat all the biryani this time. I’ll share with the uncle on the corner who sleeps outside.”
Aymen’s eyes shimmered. The mess of paper and glue on the floor, the crooked sheep, the glitter stuck to her elbow — it all felt perfect.
The sun dipped lower, painting the room in a soft amber glow. Somewhere nearby, the faint call of Maghrib echoed, gentle and familiar.
Aymen whispered, “Eid isn’t about how much we eat. It’s about how much we give. Eid isn’t about looking our best. It’s about being our best.”
Sara picked up her sheep and smiled. “Well then… mine’s not just fabulous. She’s generous too.”
Zayn gave his lumpy sheep a squeeze. “Mine’s brave. Like Ismail.”
They all laughed, the sound mingling with the last golden light of the day.
And in that moment — surrounded by paper sheep and open hearts — their Eid had already begun.