Tale#5: The One Mistake That’s Stealing Barakah from Your Home

The Peace Draining Act

I was at the park the other day, soaking in the crisp autumn air as the kids ran ahead, their laughter mixing with the crunch of fallen leaves beneath their feet. The sky stretched in endless blue above us, the sun casting that perfect, golden afternoon glow.

It was one of those rare moments when everything felt just right. I leaned back on the bench, letting out a slow breath, my eyes following Zayn and Sara as they raced toward the swings. I should’ve been fully present. I should’ve been watching them closely, memorizing these fleeting moments.

But instead, something else caught my attention.

A woman sat on the bench across from me, completely absorbed in her phone. She scrolled mindlessly, her face blank, lost in whatever endless stream of content had captured her attention. At her feet, a little boy—maybe four, maybe five—tugged at her sleeve, his small voice filled with hope.

"Mama… mama… mama!"

He called her again. And again. Each time, his voice grew a little softer, a little more uncertain. She gave him a half-hearted “hmm” without even looking up.

And then—just like that—he stopped.

His little shoulders slumped, and he let go of her sleeve. Instead of insisting, he wandered off, picking at the grass, his excitement dimming like a light slowly fading.

I felt something heavy settle in my chest.

Because I knew, I knew that scene all too well.

How many times had I done the same thing?

We Fear Losing Money, But What About Losing Barakah?

We panic when our bank balance dips.
We stress over missing a work deadline.
We constantly worry about worldly losses.

But do we ever stop to think—what if we’re losing something much more valuable?

What if we’re losing Barakah?

The Prophet ﷺ warned us about a time when barakah—those unseen blessings that make everything multiply—would slowly disappear from our lives.

And standing there, watching that little boy give up on his mother’s attention, I realized: That time is now.

Because look around.

We have more money, but less peace.
We have bigger homes, but less warmth.
We have more “Islamic content” online, but less Quran in our homes.

And the saddest part? We don’t even realize it’s happening.

The Mistake That’s Stealing Barakah from Our Homes

That evening, after dinner, I kept thinking about that little boy.

And then—almost instinctively—I reached for my phone.

But before I could tap the screen, I noticed Sara sitting beside me, swinging her legs, waiting.

She had probably been talking. And I—distracted, half-present—had probably just nodded along, pretending to listen.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

We fear that our kids won’t get into the best schools.
We fear they won’t be “successful.”
We fill their schedules with activities to secure their future.

But the real danger?

We’re pushing their spiritual upbringing to later.

And in doing so, we’re unknowingly inviting emptiness into our homes.

Because when we treat Quran learning like an extra—something “nice” but not necessary—we’re the ones who suffer.

Allah tells us in the Quran:

"And whoever fears Allah, He will make for him a way out and provide for him from where he does not expect." (Quran 65:2-3)

But instead of fearing Allah, we fear falling behind in dunya.

We think we’re too “busy” to prioritize Quran.
We assume Sunday school is enough.
We promise ourselves we’ll “get serious” about it later.

And then—before we know it—our kids stop asking.

Just like that little boy in the park.

When Barakah Starts to Disappear

I didn’t want that to happen in my home.

So I started small

Nothing drastic—just tiny, intentional shifts:

Playing a short surah while the kids got ready for bed.
Reading even one ayah together at night—no pressure, no big goals.
Making sure they saw me reading Quran, not just telling them to do it.

Turning off the background noise and letting something meaningful fill the silence.

And the difference? It was undeniable.

The same child who used to say, “I don’t have time” for memorization? Suddenly reciting new ayahs faster.
The home that used to feel chaotic and rushed? Now carrying an unexplainable calm.
The everyday struggles that I thought were just “normal life”? Somehow, they started lifting.

It was never about finding more time.

It was about choosing what to do with the time we already had.

So, How Do We Bring Barakah Back?

Barakah isn’t about doing more. It’s about choosing better.

It’s about realizing that one small effort in the right direction outweighs a hundred distractions.

It’s about remembering that our kids don’t need us to be perfect. They just need us to be present.

That little boy in the park?

He stopped calling for his mom because, eventually, kids stop asking for our attention.

But what about our own hearts?

Are we still calling for Allah’s attention? Or have we, too, stopped asking?

Tonight, before you go to bed, I have a challenge for you.

Instead of scrolling one more time…

Just open the Quran. Even if it’s just one ayah.

Because the Quran isn’t a “task” to check off.

It’s the very thing that brings back everything we’ve been missing.