The clock chimed throughout the house. It must have been 4 or 5 in the morning. Lallā Nūr, a woman in her sixties, had already been up for a while. That day, she didn't wait for the sunrise prayer. As soon as the morning prayer (ṣubḥ) and the litany (wird) were completed, she bustled about the house, opening a window here, straightening a rug there. For Lallā Nūr, this was a day of celebration, the best day of the week.

Every Friday, without fail, and for nearly a decade, Lallā Nūr had been busy since dawn, cleaning, polishing, and perfuming every room in her house. She and her husband had taken on the immense responsibility of hosting the Karkariyya Sufi order's zāwiya in Tunisia – the first official zāwiya outside of Morocco.

For all these years, Lallā Nūr knew that by the time of the midday prayer (ẓuhr), everything had to be perfectly prepared. The kitchen was spotless, the prayer room carpeted and fragrant with incense. The fuqarāʾ, the male disciples, and the faqīrāt, the female disciples, especially those who lived far away, would start arriving early. Her children, family, friends, and neighbors knew well that every Friday, summer or winter, rain or shine, Lallā Nūr's home became God’s house. It was a day for welcoming the Karkaris, along with their friends and even curious visitors—men and women alike—who came for the Friday gathering (majmaʿ).

Before finding a stable home with Lallā Nūr and her husband, the Karkaris in this country had moved from place to place, house to house, city to city. There had been gatherings held separately for men and for women, each group in its own space, but never a gathering that welcomed both men and women under the same roof, even while maintaining their distinct areas. And, for various reasons, the majmaʿ changed location every few months. It wasn't until Lallā Nūr and her husband requested the permission (idhn) of their shaykh and the local authorities that the Karkariya zāwiya truly found a home. Their house wasn't large, especially after their son's marriage and the arrival of two grandchildren. Despite this, every Friday, the family’s routines were set aside. The first floor became the fuqarā’s gathering space, while the ground floor was reserved for the women. Similarly, on Saturdays, the male disciples gathered to watch the shaykh's live lessons.

After the ẓuhr prayer, the Karkaris began arriving, and Lallā Nūr, with a warm smile, greeted each of them at the door. After the afternoon prayer (ʿaṣr), the majmaʿ commenced, both on the ground floor and the first floor. Lallā Nūr busied herself serving coffee, tea, and water to both the men and women. From time to time, she would check on things and tidy up around the house – the kitchen, the bathrooms, and so forth. This chore continued until the end of the majmaʿ, usually after the evening prayer (ʿishāʾ).

After the fuqarāʾ and faqīrāt departed, the small house was often in disarray. Exhausted, Lallā Nūr would close the doors of the rooms used for the majmaʿ, tidying only the essential areas and leaving the major cleaning for the next morning. By afternoon of the next day, the fuqarāʾ would return to watch the shaykh's lesson, and the whole cycle would begin anew for Lallā Nūr. Celebrations also brought extra duties: the Prophet’s birthday (mawlid), the Night of Power (Laylat al-Qadr), Eid, the shaykh's birthday, as well as gatherings for weddings, circumcisions, births, and the successes of the fuqarāʾ. Even during the COVID-19 pandemic, the zāwiya hosted the Friday majmaʿ with masks and social distancing. Lallā Nūr never closed her door. When she visited Morocco for two or three months in 2022, her daughter-in-law continued her work, keeping the zāwiya open every Friday.

This reflection honors the countless Karkari men and women around the world who labor tirelessly li-llāh, for the sake of God, spreading the divine light bestowed upon them. Often unnoticed, these individuals embody an essential yet humble effort. In this path, our shaykh teaches us that those who speak much, make grand promises, and place themselves in positions of leadership without readiness are often held back by their own egos; they experience a brief rise but inevitably fade, leaving behind the transient rewards of self-promotion. Meanwhile, those who work diligently and quietly, heeding the shaykh’s guidance and instructions, ascend steadily, attaining the true exalted stations of closeness. In the spirit of service, their efforts become acts of devotion, illuminating spaces and hearts without seeking recognition or reward beyond God’s love. Like Lallā Nūr, they remind us that true sanctity lies not in grand gestures but in the quiet dedication of making one’s life a vessel for divine presence, serving even those who may respond with harm. Each act, each moment of service, thus becomes an offering to the Divine—a testament that the light of God is not confined to sacred spaces but lives wherever sincerity abides.