Hana Hedgehog Can't Sleep

SUNNAHSTORIES · SUITABLE FOR AGES 4 TO 10

Under the roots of an old oak tree, in a burrow lined with soft moss, lived a young hedgehog named Hana. She had cream-tipped prickles and a quilt made of autumn leaves. Most nights she fell asleep quickly, but tonight every worry she had met that day seemed to have followed her home.

They lined up at the foot of her bed like visitors waiting for a turn, three small glowing worries: one gold, one mint, one lavender. "What if you get the spelling test wrong tomorrow?" said the gold one. "Your friend did not wave back at you. Is she cross with you?" said the mint one. "And what is that creaking in the roots?" said the lavender one.

Hana curled into a tight prickly ball. It did not help. The worries only glowed brighter and talked louder, like a queue that never ended.

Then Teta came in, her silver prickles glowing in the moonlight. She sat on the edge of the bed, put her paw on Hana's, and said gently, "You are not sleeping."

"I have too many worries," Hana whispered. "I am trying to hold all of them so I do not forget, and they are so heavy."

Teta smiled. "Little one, nobody can hold all of them, not even grown-up hedgehogs. That is why we give them to Allah. Allah never sleeps. You are small, and you need to rest."

"You say the worry, small and plain," Teta went on. "Then you say Bismillah, which means In the name of Allah. And you say, I give this one to You for the night."

Hana took a breath. "I am worried about my spelling test," she said into the dark. "Bismillah. I give this one to You for the night." The gold worry rose from the foot of the bed and drifted out of the round window. The test was still there, but it felt lighter, the way a heavy basket feels lighter when someone bigger lifts it with you.

"My friend did not wave," she said. "Bismillah." The mint worry followed the gold one. "The creaking in the roots," she said. "Bismillah." The lavender worry went last. Three tiny lights twinkled among the stars, and Hana's prickles relaxed and her eyes began to close. "Alhamdulillah," whispered Teta, which means All praise is for Allah, and she tucked the leafy quilt around her.

In the morning Hana woke up rested. She practised her spelling over breakfast, waved first at school, and her friend waved back with a big smile. The creaking was only the wind in the old oak.

Hana still had worries after that night. But now she knew what to do with them.

We were never meant to hold every worry ourselves. We can say it plainly, hand it to Allah, who never sleeps, and rest.