Ramadan is my favorite month of the year. It’s a chance for me to become closer with God, read more of the Quran, feel more connected with other muslims & build more self discipline. It’s taken me a number of years though to fully appreciate Ramadan and embrace the importance of it.
I still remember my first full day of fasting during Ramadan. I was young, probably around ten, and eager to prove I could do it like the adults in my family. Especially my dad, who encouraged me to fast that year. My dad was born in the Middle East, so by the time he was my age, he had already been fasting for a while since it’s common to fast at a younger age over there. My dad wanted me to at least try it.
The morning began with Suhoor, which is the period where you can eat and drink before you start fasting for the day. I struggled to eat so early, forcing down a few dates and a glass of milk. It was very difficult to wake up so early. We start fasting at Fajr, our first prayer of the day. The time varies, but on this day it was 5:30. As the sun rose, I felt fine, excited even. But by noon, my stomach rumbled, and every commercial on TV seemed to be about food. At school, my friends offered me snacks, forgetting I was fasting, and I had to remind myself why I was doing this. The last few hours before iftar felt like days. But then, as we gathered around the table, the anticipation of that first sip of water and bite of a date made it all worth it. When I finally broke my fast, a wave of gratitude washed over me. I had done it. My parents smiled proudly, and for the first time, I truly felt connected to the meaning of Ramadan; patience, discipline, and faith.
Another Ramadan that stood out was during Iftar, which is when we break our fast and pray. I wasn’t at home but at a local mosque, where volunteers had prepared food for anyone who wanted to break their fast together. The atmosphere was unlike anything I had experienced before as people from different backgrounds, strangers sitting side by side, sharing food and stories.
I remember a man next to me who had recently converted to Islam. It was his first Ramadan, and he spoke about how fasting had changed his perspective on gratitude and self-control.He felt like he was able to build more self-discipline, and be more committed to things he valued. The call to Maghrib prayer, which is one of our 5 prayers, and the prayer that we break our fast on, echoed through the hall, and as we broke our fast together, there was an overwhelming sense of unity. That night, I realized that Ramadan wasn’t just about abstaining from food, it was about community, generosity, and spiritual connection. This is my personal favorite part of Ramadan, the connection between you, and everyone else who is fasting.
There was another Ramadan that I remember tested my patience and perseverance. It was during my junior year of high school. It was exam season, and fasting while preparing for major tests felt like an uphill battle. Waking up for suhoor, and then having to go through the school day, fatigue set in. By afternoon, my brain felt sluggish, and studying became increasingly difficult. I remember sitting in the library, struggling to stay focused, when a friend, who wasn’t fasting, offered to quiz me on my notes. It was a small act of kindness, but it meant everything at that moment. I realized that Ramadan wasn’t just about personal endurance, it also revealed the kindness and support of those around me. Despite the exhaustion, I learned to manage my time better, prioritize what mattered, and push through the challenges with patience.
Of all the times I’ve participated in Ramadan there’s one that tested me more than any other. That year, everything seemed to pile up at once—school, personal struggles, and a sense of exhaustion that never quite went away. I went into the month feeling unprepared, both mentally and physically. The first few days were the hardest; I found myself constantly distracted, unable to focus on prayer, and struggling to keep up with the fasts. Instead of the usual excitement I felt for Ramadan, I just felt drained. Even suhoor and iftar, which were usually moments of joy, felt rushed and routine. It felt like I was just going through the motions, rather than truly embracing the month.
But as the days passed, something changed. I forced myself to slow down, to focus on one thing at a time. I started taking small moments throughout the day to reflect—whether it was a quiet prayer between classes or simply sitting outside and appreciating the stillness. The more I embraced those moments, the more I felt connected to Ramadan again. I found comfort in the nightly prayers, in the act of breaking my fast, and in the sense of discipline fasting gave me. I realized that even though this Ramadan didn’t feel as “perfect” as I wanted, it was still meaningful in its own way.
By the time Eid arrived, which is the celebration after the month of Ramadan, I felt a deep sense of relief ,not just because the fasting was over, but because I had made it through. It wasn’t the easiest Ramadan, but it taught me something important: even when things feel difficult, even when you don’t feel as connected as you’d like, there’s still value in showing up, in pushing forward, in finding small moments of faith. As I stood in prayer on Eid morning, surrounded by family and friends, I felt a renewed sense of gratitude. Ramadan reminded me that faith isn’t about perfection, it’s about persistence.
