Embracing the Sacred: A Heartfelt Journey Through the First 10 Days of Dhul-Hijjah

There’s just no stopping time from passing us by. We wake up, look at our phones, start answering emails or doing chores or having conversations, and at the end of the day, have no idea where the time has gone. In this ferocious tempo, it is easy to overlook the quiet moments that matter most. But then Allah , in His infinite Mercy, provides us with sacred windows. Moments to pause, to breathe, to realign. The first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah are an example of this divine opening; an opportunity to not simply reset our calendars but also to recalibrate our hearts.

Rediscovering the Power of These 10 Days

“By the dawn.”

“And by the ten nights.” [Surah Al-Fajr: 89:1–2]

When Allah swears by something, we lean in. These ten days are unparalleled—even greater than the final nights of Ramadan. The Prophet Muhammad said, “There are no days on which righteous deeds are more beloved to Allah than these ten days.” [Bukhari]

A dear friend once asked me, “If these days are so incredible, why do they pass without leaving a trace on us?” That question stayed with me. Because honestly? We let them pass. We get distracted. We think we’ll try harder next year.

But what if there is no next year?

What if these are our last ten?

Would we scroll aimlessly then? Or would we raise our hands more? Bow our heads longer? Whisper du’a with more desperation?

The Day of Arafah: A Day Unlike Any Other

The ninth day of Dhul-Hijjah—the Day of Arafah—is a spiritual summit. It was the day Islam was completed. It is a day when fasting erases the sins of the past and future year. It is the day when du’a is heard more intimately.

“The best supplication is that of the Day of Arafah.” [Tirmidhi]

Last year, as Maghrib approached, I was sitting on the carpet with my children, all of us quiet after a long fast. I asked each of them what they wanted from Allah. My five-year-old said softly, “I want Jannah… and a puppy.” We chuckled, but my heart swelled with emotion. Because on Arafah, even such innocent wishes feel as if they might flutter straight to the heavens.

This year, I explained to my older kids what made Arafah special. We read the ayah: “This day I have perfected for you your religion and completed My favor upon you and have approved for you Islam as your religion.” [Surah Al-Ma’idah; 5:3]. My son looked up and said, “So it’s like… Islam’s graduation day?” And in a way, yes—it’s the culmination of divine guidance.

We made du’a lists together. We reflected on our mistakes. And as the sun began to set, they asked if they could repeat their du’as, just to be sure Allah hears them. That level of trust—it’s what we all seek.

As a mother, watching their small faces light up with hope as they made heartfelt requests reminded me how pure du’a can be when it’s untarnished by doubt or hesitation. It reminded me to return to that kind of sincerity myself.

Inspired by the Past

“The first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah are an example of this divine opening; an opportunity to not simply reset our calendars but also to recalibrate our hearts.” [PC: Ed US (unsplash)]

Saeed ibn Jubayr, a student of Ibn Abbas, would keep his lamps burning through the night—not to stay awake for the sake of it, but to fill those hours with prayer. Imam al-Shafi’i’s generosity increased so much during these days that people assumed he had come into wealth. Hasan al-Basri fasted daily during Dhul-Hijjah, simply because he understood how precious every moment was.

I once read that Umar ibn Abdul Aziz would cry during these days—not out of fear alone, but out of overwhelming hope. He knew that these moments carried a closeness with Allah unmatched by any other time.

Their actions weren’t rituals. They were love letters to Allah .

What You Can Do—Right Where You Are

You don’t need to be on the plains of Arafah to experience their mercy. You just need presence.

Fasting: Even a few days, especially Arafah, brings immense reward.

Dhikr: Make your mornings echo with takbeer, tahlil, tahmid, and tasbih.

Charity: A small act done quietly may weigh heavily in the scales.

Qur’an: Ten minutes a day can reopen a conversation with your Creator.

Du’a: Pour your heart out. Write your wishes. Whisper them with faith.

Repentance: These are the days to come home to Allah , to unburden your soul.

My children took turns announcing the takbeer in the house: “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, La ilaha illa Allah…” Their voices bounced off the walls with joy. Even my youngest learned to say “Alhamdulillah” after finishing their iftar juice, understanding that gratitude isn’t just an action—it’s a lifestyle, especially during these days.

One day, my middle child came to me and said, “Mama, when I fast on Arafah, does it really erase all my bad stuff?” I said, “Yes, by Allah’s Mercy.” He paused and said, “Then I want to make this my best day ever.” It humbled me. Because sometimes, they understand what we adults forget: that Allah’s Forgiveness is near—closer than we think.

Udhiyah: A Legacy of Love and Trust

The act of sacrifice—Udhiyah—is not about meat or mere ritual. It’s about surrender. It’s about recalling Prophet Ibrahim’s unwavering obedience, and Ismail’s calm trust in Allah .

“Their meat will not reach Allah, nor will their blood, but what reaches Him is piety from you.” [Surah Al-Hajj; 22:37]

In our home, we try to make it a family tradition. My kids help decorate the boxes of meat. We speak about what sacrifice really means. I once asked them, “What would you give up if Allah asked you to?” One of them said, “My tablet, but not my cat.” It was honest. And that honesty is where growth begins.

We told the story of Ibrahim and Ismail in bedtime story form. I could see my daughter’s eyes widen as she realized what trust really looked like. She asked, “Would I do that if Allah asked me?” It opened up a beautiful discussion on faith, trust, and obedience. These are the seeds we hope will bloom in their hearts long after Eid is over.

We also created a “giving wall”—a place to pin up names of people we wanted to help that Eid. Neighbors, refugees, people we only knew from afar. It became more than just a ritual; it became a family mission.

Share the Blessing

Let these days ripple beyond your own ibaadah:

Share a daily du’a with your family or friends.

Bake with your children and gift treats to your neighbors.

Reconnect with someone you’ve drifted from.

Sponsor an Udhiyah anonymously.

Smile with the intention of sunnah—yes, it still counts.

You can even invite your non-Muslim friends to share a meal. Sometimes a conversation over tea does more dawah than a thousand words.

Our Family’s Dhul-Hijjah

Our home isn’t always serene. There are messes, tantrums, and skipped routines. But we try. We hang paper stars on the wall to count the days. We play the takbeer loudly every morning. We break our fasts together. And sometimes, we just sit quietly and let the barakah fill the room.

Involve even young children in the first 10 days of dhul-hijjah [PC: Ramin Labisheh (unsplash)]

These are not just reflections. They are gentle awakenings.

One evening, I asked my daughter, “What do you love most about Dhul-Hijjah?” She paused and said, “It feels like Allah is listening more.”

That moment stayed with me. It reminded me that these days aren’t just about big gestures—but about nurturing a quiet awareness of Allah, even in the smallest voices.

A Gentle Sample Day

You don’t need perfection. Just intention.

Before Fajr: Wake gently. Let the quiet of dawn carry your du’a.

After Fajr: Read a few verses. Let takbeer fill the air.

Mid-morning: Give. Even a dollar. Even a smile.

Afternoon: Reflect. Share a prophetic story with your family.

Maghrib: Make du’a as the sky softens. Include your children.

Evening: Repent. And write one blessing you noticed today.

These aren’t just sacred days on a calendar. They are handwritten invitations from your Lord.

Let’s answer.

With full hearts.

With quiet awe.

With trembling hands raised to the sky.

May Allah let us witness these days with sincerity, and may we exit them lighter, closer, forgiven.

Related:

– [Dhul Hijjah Series] Calling Upon the Divine: The Art of Du’a

– Dhul Hijjah With Kids In The Home And Palestine On Our Minds