A tale of a Palestinian mother baking her last bread before a bombing raid—her love, courage, and submission to Allah.
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in the heart of Palestine where the sun was slowly rising above the horizon there lived a brave mother named Amina her home was a small stone house surrounded by olive trees the leaves whispering stories of the past in the gentle morning breeze amina had a special ritual she would bake a fresh loaf of Moroccan cobs every morning just before the call to far the dawn prayer this morning as she needed the simolina dough her mind was filled with thoughts of her children Akmed and Ila the aroma of fresh bread mixed with the scent of ripe olives was comforting yet her heart knew the day could bring unforeseen challenges the news had spoken of a possible bombing raid and uncertainty lay heavy in the air amina’s kitchen was a haven filled with love and care each ingredient was added with intention the semolina for strength a sprinkle of her favorite herbs for hope and a dash of olive oil from her cherished trees for peace as she shaped the dough she whispered a silent prayer asking Olive for protection over her family and neighbors the bread rose as the sky lightened its golden crust of promise of nourishment and warmth amina placed the cobbs into the old oven its glow casting a gentle light over her worried face as she waited for the bread to bake she closed her eyes listening to the rhythmic sound of the far call it’s melody harmonizing with her heartbeat at that moment she felt something deeper than fear an overwhelming sense of submission and trust in Allah like the seven olive trees outside her window that had withtood countless storms she would remain rooted in faith once the oven’s soft ding announced the bread’s readiness Amina carefully wrapped the cobs in a cloth embroidered by her grandmother a symbol of resilience and heritage she carried it to the table where Akmed and Ila sat rubbing sleeve from their eyes “come my loves let’s eat breakfast,” she said with a warm smile cutting slices from the loaf each bite was hope each swallow strength as the family ate together in hushed whispers cherishing the moments of togetherness against the impending shadows the sun had finally risen casting its gentle rays through the olive trees amina’s heart though heavy with the knowledge of what might come was lifted by the bond she shared with her children in a small stone house the love of the mother echoed even in uncertain times a love that never yielded a beacon of light