Yā Rabb, You set the bar of birr at the place I have most resisted. 'You will not attain it until you spend from what you love.' Not what you can spare. Not what you would not miss. What you love. Forgive me, ya Allāh. Forgive me for the years I gave You what was easy to give. The change in my pocket. The tax-deductible amount. The leftover groceries. The clothes I would not have worn again. Each was a half-giving, and the half-giving did not reach the bar of birr. You named birr at the level of what I would actually miss. The savings I have protected. The favorite piece of jewelry. The hobby budget. The travel fund. The car I love. The investment portfolio. Each is a Bayrahāʾ I have not yet released. Ya Rabb, give me the chest of Abū Ṭalḥah. The moment he heard the verse, he stood and gave the most beloved of his wealth, in front of the Prophet ﷺ, for Allah's pleasure. Build me into that response. Identify, ya Rabb, what I love in my dunya, and lift the door for me to release some of it. Not for the recognition. Not for the donor's name. For birr. For You. And when my hand opens at the level You named, ya Allah, let me finally cross into the territory of birr that Your verse guarded against the cheap giver. Āmīn ya Wadud.