This is Day 13 of Hindtrospectives’ #MyMosqueMyStory series for Ramadan 2015

By Dilshad D. Ali

This night, like so many nights, is spent rocking in the rocking chair while uttering whatever du’as I know in his darkened bedroom. Sometimes I’m there as a presence when he is upset, anxious and restless — knowing he doesn’t want to be touched but hoping my presence by his bed, my hand on the mattress close enough to feel his warmth without aggravating him with my touch will provide comfort.

Other nights he slumbers peacefully, and with the rest of the family (most of them) gone to taraweeh prayers at the office space rented out by our mosque, I pray Isha in the bedroom, thinking that if I supplicate there, in that quiet space, perhaps I’ll feel my prayers better and my supplications will reach Him.

If Ramadan is a time when many of us are drawn together as a community, breaking our fasts together, meeting up at the mosque for taraweeh prayers or seeking companionship in faith online, for my autistic son “D,” it’s no different than any other time.

As I wrote in a status update on Facebook:

Couldn’t sleep after Sehri and post-sehri Quran reading. At some point finally drifted off, only to have a very awake and energetic D throw himself on me at 7:30 am. Got him dressed, cleaned up. Lay back down, vowing to get up and get him breakfast. Drifted in and out of sleep. D kept lying next to me, on me, by me, trying to get me up. Brought his iPad up to request food. Finally I got up and came down to make him breakfast. The main floor/kitchen area was ransacked … With bits of food he found all over the place. Things all out of place, drawers opened, chairs pulled to counters so he could climb up and look for his favorite hidden treats. It was to be expected b/c I should’ve gotten up with him. D wanted his breakfast! Someone asked me how Ramadan ‪and fasting is going. Pretty well, as long as we maintain D’s routines. They march inexorably on. Keep to them, and D is more even keeled. Our Autism does not stop for Ramadan and its flipped or different schedules, night time taraweeh that I wish I could attend daily, up-all-night Ibadat (worship). I know this, and am fine with it, yet every Ramadan it’s a lesson all over again.

I’ve tried to build a relationship with our local mosque, but I’ve found that in the grind to fund raise, buy land and fund raise more to build the mosque, finding ways to accommodate special needs families like ours is not a top priority. I’m not bitter about it – well, not always. In a mid-size community like ours where ethnic enclaves guide mosque building projects and few families are vocal about inclusivity for special needs families, of course accommodation isn’t a top concern.

Perhaps that’s in part because I haven’t pushed hard enough in my own local community, as hard as I’ve pushed it on a national awareness platform. Perhaps that’s because I’m practical and conserve my energy to fight battles that I have a chance at winning. And, at the end of the day, D doesn’t need to be mosqued. His faith is within him, on terms known only to him and Allah.

And so most Ramadan nights I stay home with him, making sure his bedtime routine is adhered to, being home to attend to his needs while the rest of the family gets their Ramadan mosque time on. (I get my chance sometimes.) I send my daughter off with her grandparents to taraweeh, and if my husband has the energy to go (his fasting days and nights are long and hard, as he balances it with his busy medical practice), he takes our youngest son with him.

The yearning is there to join with everyone else, to hear the melodious tilawat (recitation) of the Hafiz (one who has memorized the Quran and leads the taraweeh prayer), to feel the kushoo of congregational prayer. But it’s not to be for me, at least not now. And when I run into friends in the community, friends who know our family, they still kindly ask me – Where are you? We haven’t seen you at taraweeh. Why don’t you come?

Why? Because my place is at home, and my ibadah (worship) is with D. And that’s ok.

To all those with special needs — I pray your Ramadan days and nights pass in good health and peace, with worship being done in ways that are meaningful to you, whether that is partaking in any of the rituals of faith or simply living life in the best way possible. I pray that you are graced with inclusion done in the right way in all facets of your life. I pray that our Muslim community and the world beyond recognize your rights to humanity, dignity, respect and accommodation.

To all the special needs families – I pray you are free of Ramadan despair. I pray you realize that all you do for your loved ones and for each other is the best kind of worship. I pray your fasting and familial duties are easy. I pray you find the peace, happiness and contentment you deserve. I pray you get respite when you need it most, and I pray your loved one with special needs enjoys good health. I pray your du’as and prayers are answered in immediate and beautiful ways, and if not, that you have the patience to trust in His divine wisdom and plan.

I pray your mosque is welcoming and inclusive, and if not, I pray that someday it will be.

Dilshad D. Ali is the managing editor of Patheos Muslim and the editor-in-chief of Altmuslim. She blogs on faith, family and autism at The Muslimah Next Door. She is an autism advocate and a mother to three great kids. You can find her on Facebook here, and she tweets @DilshadDAli.