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Yet every year during the pilgrimage season, the Prophet Peace Be upon Him would walk among the tents of the tribes, alone, dusty and patient,

saying, O people, say, la, Allah, and you will succeed. Your place of refuge has been shown to me.

A land of palm trees between two volcanic ridges.

That land was Medina.

My beloved brothers and sisters,

after years of hardship in Macca,

years of patience, wounds, loss and struggle, the message of Islam

now begins to move in a new direction.

For every night of grief, Allah places a dawn.

And after every trial, he opens a door that no one expected.

Far from Makkah in a city of palms and open sky.

There were hearts quietly waiting.

Hearts unburdened by pride.

Hearts that recognize truth the moment they heard it.

Hearts prepared by Allah long before they ever heard the name Muhammad, peaceably upon him.

This is the beginning of Medina.

Not the city of power, not the city of victory, not yet, but the city of faith.

So come with me to the gathering beneath the night sky where sincere hearts said,

we believe, we will stand with you, we will protect you, we will love you.

We will love you. The years in Macca grew darker.

Kureesh had rejected every call, wealth, power, mercy, even truth itself.

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