Love Inside a Jacket Potato

I almost shied away from writing this piece. And then I remembered the verse in the Qurʾān: “God does not shy away from drawing comparisons even with something as lowly as a gnat, or higher…” {al-Baqarah:26}

It is a reflection that I feel has some benefit, and so why should I shy away? Bismillāh …

So, my wife was making me a jacket potato for dinner yesterday, Allāhumma bārik lahā. Everyone has a meal from their childhood that they love. A meal that brings back happy memories and ultimately ends with regret as the memories fade and morph into a bloated stomach. Mine is the jacket potato, a testimony to my birthright to the British passport – no matter what the government tries to say, legislate, or insinuate. But that’s besides …

As my wife was preparing the jacket potato, she asked me if I’d like beans on it. I was speechless, to be honest. She’s asking me if I want beans on it? I mean, is it even a jacket potato without beans and cheese? And she’s made it for me before, how could she forget?

And then, a distant memory suddenly surfaced to the forefront of my mind. I remembered when my mother would make me the same meal as a child, and she’d ask me if I wanted the beans first, or the cheese. I’ve always been serious about my food. Dedicated. Particular. I didn’t just want beans and cheese on my jacket potato, but I wanted the beans, then the cheese, then the beans again, then the cheese again, then beans once more, and a final dash of cheese on top. And each layer of cheese had to be peppered, so that the pepper melted into the cheese.

I know what you’re thinking, and I’m thinking it, too. How ridiculous! That’s so stupid. What a spoilt kid! Pointless. Silly …

And yet, every time, that’s how my mother would make it for me. Though it really made no difference, and she knew it made no difference, she’d still do it for me. I’d even watch her to make sure, and she’d still do it when I wasn’t watching. Beans, cheese, beans, cheese, beans, and then cheese. And the pepper.

I will never be able to comprehend a mother’s love for her child.

Allāhu yarḥamuhā wa bārik lahā wa ʾātihā fī d-dunyā ḥasanatan wa fī l-ʾākhirati ḥasantan wa qihā ʿadhāba n-nār.

And as I write this post, a final thought comes to mind. The following ḥadīth:

ʾUmar b. al-Khaṭṭāb reported that there were brought some prisoners to the Messenger of Allāh ﷺ amongst whom there was also a woman, who was searching (for someone) and when she found a child amongst the prisoners, she took hold of it, pressed it against her chest and provided it suck. Thereupon the Messenger of Allāh (ﷺ) said:

“Do you think this woman would ever afford to throw her child in the Fire? We said: By Allah, so far as it lies in her power, she would never throw the child in Fire. ‘ Thereupon Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said: Allah is more kind to His servants than this woman is to her child.”

Disclaimer: Translations are given to the nearest meaning.

Disclaimer: Don’t judge me. It was one portion of beans and cheese separated into three layers, not three portions in three layers.


By: Brother Beard (MW Contributor)

2 thoughts on “Love Inside a Jacket Potato”

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