Whenever you came into the room to check on Arif, you stood by his bedside and placed your hand on his arm or held his hand in yours; that physical touch was so reassuring, even I felt it.

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Not exactly the words you want to hear from a doctor. “It’s not malignant,” she said. “But it is atypical.”

Lying prone on a day bed gave me time to think about what I wanted to say to my dear Zayd as he embarks on this next chapter in his life—building his second start-up in one of the greatest cities in the world, while exploring the “life of the mind” at an incredible institution that holds so many memories for Arif and myself

I’m reminded me of the very first personal story I wanted to write — the one that revealed to me the power of our ordinary stories, and which ended up changing my life.

I walked into the suite, he turned around and saw me, and poured the whole bottle of red pepper in his curry!

I see a story in just about everything; and then ask myself what’s the deeper meaning. Like this katori. It had a story to tell. I simply asked.

As I walked in, a bestie came over to hug me, adding with a twinkle that I looked like a cupcake — actually, I was going for cotton candy, I said with a wink. 😉 Joy!

"We believe that each one of us can make a difference, right now. We may not be able to solve all of the world's problems, but we can do something to make the life of one person a little easier,

Zayd tutored English and Math and coached soccer at a camp for refugee students organized by the International Rescue Committee (IRC) last summer.

Being a cross-cultural parent in Washington can mean teaching your children the Koran — and then carpooling them to hip-hop class.

This is George, outside his childhood home in Mclean. His mom Evelyn lived here for 65 years, until she died last year at age 96. George wanted to donate all the furniture to the Afghan refuge

Blanche Porway, a Holocaust survivor, would have been 95 years old next month; she passed away a few weeks ago. In honor of Holocaust Remembrance Day,

Each Ramadan for the past seven years, I’ve been keeping a blog to share the essence of the month. Ramadan is about so much more than just not eating or drinking; it’s about gratitude

As many of us are enjoying our summer holidays, some traveling abroad, others staying closer to home, I have a suggestion. The idea came to me as I was j

Abdul Sattar Edhi, arguably the world’s greatest and least known humanitarian, passed away last Friday; he was 88 years old. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un

One of my most fulfilling experiences as a writer has been a message I received from someone who had read a piece that I had written for a national women’s magazine

On the 20th anniversary of the Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing, and on the anniversary of Hillary Clinton’s speech there, I wanted to share my reflections

[My father passed away on March 28th, 2019. Thank you for reading his story, which I wrote three years ago on his 80th birthday.]Today, is my father’s 80th birthday.

The idea grew out of the tragedy of the Charlie Hebdo attacks in Paris. A dear friend of Jewish faith, horrified at the growing intolerance and hate in the world and the comments

For months, perhaps even for years, I had been composing in my mind the letter I was going to write to my daughter before she left for college