Another close friend is getting married. Actually she’s closer than just a ‘close friend’, a ‘best friend’ almost.
I’ve known Ara since high school. We share the same name, so as to avoid confusion, people called her Ara (I got the nickname A.Z. in college when there was another girl who shared my first name. Since she only has one name and I prefer not to let others calling me Haida, I resorted to A.Z., which by the by suits me well, I think). Ara and I grew even closer when we were in upper forms as we were in the same class, in the same sports house and were both committee members of the school’s cooperative board. And yes, despite her being elected as a prefect during the final year at school, we had some history of breaking some (minor) school rules…
The friendship lasts even after we left school. Ara studied in KL while I was in Leeds, but always, there was this special bond we shared that's unique to us. As fate had it, we dated different guys with similar names at the same time, and our ups and downs in relationships were, well, almost always happened at the same time, although of different magnitudes. In fact, we almost chose the same date for our wedding! (Which I’m glad did not turn out to be so; otherwise we wouldn’t be able to attend each other’s wedding)
Ara and Ira, another close friend, were the one who attended to me on my akad nikah night, assisting my auntie Nyah in preparing me for the big occasion. I was a bit kelam kabut that night, but Ara quietly ordered me to sit back, relax and let they do things for me. “It’s your day to be a princess, so don’t worry about a thing – we’ll do it for you,” she insisted. Needless to say, both Ara and Ira did a great job of calming my nerves that fateful night.
Now, it’s her turn to be treated like a princess. Ira told me that she’ll be attending to Ara in the morning, putting on the tudung and all. I told Ira that I would like to go with her. My turn to help her out…
Often, things just change after one gets married, whether one likes it or not. There’ll be less time for the girlfriends, best friends or otherwise. Still I know, we will always be there for each other – although the time spend with each other might lessen. But we’ll be there for each other – to shop, share, heal, joke, pray, cry, laugh or just be.
#####
I’ve met and made lots of close friends since high school – in college, in University, at my old job, during my DPA days, even bonded well with a few women I met at meetings overseas – and I treasure them all. Some meet my spiritual need, some share my love for books, some my love for Japanese dramas, some were with me in seasons of turmoil and confusion, some were my clarifier and some doubled my joy and happiness.
Still, however close the rest are to me – my close friends from high school, Ira and Ara included - I consider them closest to being my best friends. People with whom I can let my guard down due to the depth of intimacy and trust that exist between us and with whom I don’t have to worry about my appearance because they had all seen me once in overlarge tudung labuh, extra-large brightly coloured plastic pair of glasses and a broken half front tooth. They are friends who love me for who I am yet would unabashedly offer a fresh perspective whether or not I need them; who know most, if not all, of my history and emotional baggage and yet able to listen without judging and offering comfort without being suffocating.
I thank Allah for high school friends who keep cheering each other up, cheering each other on and lifting each other’s spirits long after high school days ended. And I hope we’ll continue to share our secrets, hopes, doubts and dreams for many more years to come…
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Getting to know the cleaner
A couple of weeks ago, the regular lady cleaner in the office was not around. There was another girl instead, so I asked her the whereabouts of our regular cleaner. Apparently she was away on high fever, and as the doctor suspected that it could be dengue, she had to stay at home for a while until she was given the ‘clear’ sign from the doctor. The stand-in was a relative of hers and in daily contact with her, so I conveyed my sympathy and salam to the regular cleaner via the stand-in.
When the regular cleaner returned, I asked her how things were. She thanked me for my concern and my salam. I wondered aloud – how did she know it was me?
“Akak sorang je yang tahu nama Ju. Orang lain panggil ‘adik’ je”
I was… surprised. All these while, she works exclusively on this level and I am the only one who has been calling her by her given name?
#####
I think most of us have read that oft-forwarded email about how one lecturer quizzed his medical students on the cleaner’s name. When most (or was it none?) of his students could not answer the question, he talked about how important it is to establish contact with people around us because we need to show we care, or something to that effect. The students later learned (and could never forget) that the lady cleaner’s name was Daisy.
Learning from that email, I made it a point to get to know the cleaner’s name wherever I work. There’s Kak Peah back in Serdang. Then, there’s Kak Ros in Wisma Damansara and now Ju in Putrajaya.
Apart from thanking them for emptying my waste bin or vacuuming my room or wiping my desk or spraying the phone, I sometimes chatted with them. Kak Peah shared her stories about keeping the family together and her business as a nasi lemak seller and a small stallholder at the local pasar malam. Kak Ros also talked about her family as well as her decision to wear tudung and all. I remember presenting a few tudung to her when she began to wear tudung and how profusely she thanked me. Ju is still young, but has two children to support so both she and her husband are working hard, plus looking for side income, such as making profits from selling used paper and all.
What are the points in chatting with the cleaners?
From them, I learn much about perseverance, persistence, patience, coping with difficulties and being grateful for Allah’s many blessings.
Besides, chatting with them, asking how things are, show that I care for them and about them. I know they appreciate it. Perhaps just as much as I appreciated officers stopping to make small talks to me back in the old university days when I worked part-time as a cleaner at a call centre in Leeds.
As I emptied waste bins, or wiping a desk or two or crushing Styrofoam cups to be recycled, one or two officers would stop to chat on this and that. The weather, the latest book I was reading, the latest movie, the recent football match, and so on and so forth. Sometimes I simply listened to their rants and ramblings on particular difficult customers they had to deal with over the phone. At other times, one or two would bombard me with lots of questions regarding Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur and south east Asia in general. While I found some questions to be rather amusing, it was almost always a pleasure to be chatted up. As it showed that they care – or at least some of them did. I appreciated it.
Just as I hope my cleaner appreciate my effort now.
When the regular cleaner returned, I asked her how things were. She thanked me for my concern and my salam. I wondered aloud – how did she know it was me?
“Akak sorang je yang tahu nama Ju. Orang lain panggil ‘adik’ je”
I was… surprised. All these while, she works exclusively on this level and I am the only one who has been calling her by her given name?
#####
I think most of us have read that oft-forwarded email about how one lecturer quizzed his medical students on the cleaner’s name. When most (or was it none?) of his students could not answer the question, he talked about how important it is to establish contact with people around us because we need to show we care, or something to that effect. The students later learned (and could never forget) that the lady cleaner’s name was Daisy.
Learning from that email, I made it a point to get to know the cleaner’s name wherever I work. There’s Kak Peah back in Serdang. Then, there’s Kak Ros in Wisma Damansara and now Ju in Putrajaya.
Apart from thanking them for emptying my waste bin or vacuuming my room or wiping my desk or spraying the phone, I sometimes chatted with them. Kak Peah shared her stories about keeping the family together and her business as a nasi lemak seller and a small stallholder at the local pasar malam. Kak Ros also talked about her family as well as her decision to wear tudung and all. I remember presenting a few tudung to her when she began to wear tudung and how profusely she thanked me. Ju is still young, but has two children to support so both she and her husband are working hard, plus looking for side income, such as making profits from selling used paper and all.
What are the points in chatting with the cleaners?
From them, I learn much about perseverance, persistence, patience, coping with difficulties and being grateful for Allah’s many blessings.
Besides, chatting with them, asking how things are, show that I care for them and about them. I know they appreciate it. Perhaps just as much as I appreciated officers stopping to make small talks to me back in the old university days when I worked part-time as a cleaner at a call centre in Leeds.
As I emptied waste bins, or wiping a desk or two or crushing Styrofoam cups to be recycled, one or two officers would stop to chat on this and that. The weather, the latest book I was reading, the latest movie, the recent football match, and so on and so forth. Sometimes I simply listened to their rants and ramblings on particular difficult customers they had to deal with over the phone. At other times, one or two would bombard me with lots of questions regarding Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur and south east Asia in general. While I found some questions to be rather amusing, it was almost always a pleasure to be chatted up. As it showed that they care – or at least some of them did. I appreciated it.
Just as I hope my cleaner appreciate my effort now.
I want to go to Makkah
... especially after reading this beautiful story by Hesham A. Hassaballa, a Midwestern Muslim...
I Want to Go Back to Mecca
I want to go back to Mecca.
As the years pass since my pilgrimage to Mecca, what I felt as I walked off the plane and recoiled from the cold Chicago air on my face has faded considerably. The glow in my eyes from the immensely powerful spiritual experience of the Hajj has dimmed a bit. The comings and goings of the life of this world have clouded the view of God that was so clear in the immediate days and weeks after the Hajj.
Yet, despite all of that, Mecca continues to call. Despite all of that, Mecca has left her mark on my heart. And I want to go back. When I first arrived in the Holy Precincts, I was instantly humbled and cowed by the awesome power of the Divine. I could not help it--His immense presence enveloped me and brought me to my knees. I needed such an experience. Being a doctor is an enormous blessing, and I do not take my profession for granted. Yet the temptation to consider myself like Him is always there.
With a quick flick of the wrist, I have the power to bring someone from the brink of death back to life. This is especially true in the intensive care unit, where I spend a good deal of my time. Add to this the immense respect and deference given to physicians many times: "Thank you very much, doctor." "Your life is in my hands, doctor." "Sure, doctor, whatever you want." The potential for corruption is immense, and I have strived my entire medical career to not let it go to my head.
You don't have to worry about that in Mecca. "There is no 'doctor' here," God says. "You are my servant. No more, no less." And I could not help but say, "Yes, Lord," looking away in humility. Yet, soon after I arrived in Mecca, God told me, "Get up, my servant" and he extended His Hands to me. "Come and let's talk." I did, and I loved it. And so, I want to go back.
He became my Loving Friend, listening and tending to my every need. This despite my sinning against Him time and time again. He never brought that up. He just listened. I talked up a storm, and He just listened. Even though He did not mention my sins, I did. I begged and begged and begged for His pardon, and He gave it to me, without even a moment's hesitation. And so, I want to go back.
And it's not like I left Him there. He came home with me, continuing to be my Loving Friend, and I have leaned on that friendship very heavily since I have come back. Yet, He never minds. And so, I want to go back. But why if He came home with me? Because, even though He is with me every day, there is nothing like hanging out in God's own House. There is nothing like it in the world. Mecca is not unlike other old Middle Eastern cities: hot, dusty, and pretty drab.
But the Grand Mosque, where the Ka'ba is located? It is a piece of Paradise. It glows with the Light of God, and I love being there. After all, it's my Best Friend's house. And so, I want to back.
Moreover, when I go back to Mecca, I will get to see (spiritually, that is) my beloved once again: the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) in Medina. I will get to walk with him once again. I will get to feel his cool, soothing presence once again. I will get to pray near him once again. I will get to enjoy the sweetness of his city and his mosque once again. And so, I want to go back.
Do I want to make another Hajj? No, not really. The Hajj, with all its spiritual splendor, is very difficult. I would rather go a different time, perform a lesser Hajj, and really enjoy the House of the Lord. I want the Holy Precincts to myself, without 2 million fellow believers. Call me selfish, but, it's my Best Friend's house. I can't help being selfish when it comes to my Best Friend. Besides, since I have already made my Hajj, I'll give up my space for another Muslim brother or sister who has yet to fulfill this most important of Islamic ritual obligations.
This time, however, I want to go with three beautiful women. No, silly, I don't have two other wives (shame on you for thinking that). I want to go with my wife and two daughters. I especially want to take my eldest daughter. She was diagnosed with Ataxia-Telangiectasia, a crippling and ultimately fatal genetic disease. We learned of her diagnosis in the weeks after we returned from Mecca two years ago. She's always wanted to go to God's House, and I desperately want to take her. I know that she will feel immediately at home, because she came to me from Him.
I want her to see the Ka'ba, the Black Stone, the hillocks of Safa and Marwa, the glory of God's House. I want her to taste how sweet the waters of the Zamzam well are. I want her to feel the presence of the Prophet Muhammad and taste the sweetness of his city and his mosque. I want her to feel what I felt when I went to the Hajj. I know she will love it.
When I roll her in her stroller (she is not able to walk very long distances any more) up to the Ka'ba, I want to say with her, "Here I am, O God, at your service, here I am!" Some may want to go back to God's House and complain or say, "Why?" I will not do that. God chose for me to be tested with having a child with a crippling disability, and I have to be patient. I learned how to be patient with God's tests during the Hajj. Moreover, the friendship I developed with God during the Hajj has become indispensable for helping me deal with my painful new reality.
So, when I go back to His house, I will go gladly. The Hajj and my daughter will forever be intimately linked, and to have my daughter with me in Mecca will be an immensely emotional time for me.
For the rest of my life, Mecca will always be in my heart. Mecca will always call to me, and I will always feel at home there at my Best Friend's house. And I don't think this feeling will ever go away, even if I go back 100 times. And so, I want to go back. I hope and pray that day comes very soon.
I Want to Go Back to Mecca
I want to go back to Mecca.
As the years pass since my pilgrimage to Mecca, what I felt as I walked off the plane and recoiled from the cold Chicago air on my face has faded considerably. The glow in my eyes from the immensely powerful spiritual experience of the Hajj has dimmed a bit. The comings and goings of the life of this world have clouded the view of God that was so clear in the immediate days and weeks after the Hajj.
Yet, despite all of that, Mecca continues to call. Despite all of that, Mecca has left her mark on my heart. And I want to go back. When I first arrived in the Holy Precincts, I was instantly humbled and cowed by the awesome power of the Divine. I could not help it--His immense presence enveloped me and brought me to my knees. I needed such an experience. Being a doctor is an enormous blessing, and I do not take my profession for granted. Yet the temptation to consider myself like Him is always there.
With a quick flick of the wrist, I have the power to bring someone from the brink of death back to life. This is especially true in the intensive care unit, where I spend a good deal of my time. Add to this the immense respect and deference given to physicians many times: "Thank you very much, doctor." "Your life is in my hands, doctor." "Sure, doctor, whatever you want." The potential for corruption is immense, and I have strived my entire medical career to not let it go to my head.
You don't have to worry about that in Mecca. "There is no 'doctor' here," God says. "You are my servant. No more, no less." And I could not help but say, "Yes, Lord," looking away in humility. Yet, soon after I arrived in Mecca, God told me, "Get up, my servant" and he extended His Hands to me. "Come and let's talk." I did, and I loved it. And so, I want to go back.
He became my Loving Friend, listening and tending to my every need. This despite my sinning against Him time and time again. He never brought that up. He just listened. I talked up a storm, and He just listened. Even though He did not mention my sins, I did. I begged and begged and begged for His pardon, and He gave it to me, without even a moment's hesitation. And so, I want to go back.
And it's not like I left Him there. He came home with me, continuing to be my Loving Friend, and I have leaned on that friendship very heavily since I have come back. Yet, He never minds. And so, I want to go back. But why if He came home with me? Because, even though He is with me every day, there is nothing like hanging out in God's own House. There is nothing like it in the world. Mecca is not unlike other old Middle Eastern cities: hot, dusty, and pretty drab.
But the Grand Mosque, where the Ka'ba is located? It is a piece of Paradise. It glows with the Light of God, and I love being there. After all, it's my Best Friend's house. And so, I want to back.
Moreover, when I go back to Mecca, I will get to see (spiritually, that is) my beloved once again: the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) in Medina. I will get to walk with him once again. I will get to feel his cool, soothing presence once again. I will get to pray near him once again. I will get to enjoy the sweetness of his city and his mosque once again. And so, I want to go back.
Do I want to make another Hajj? No, not really. The Hajj, with all its spiritual splendor, is very difficult. I would rather go a different time, perform a lesser Hajj, and really enjoy the House of the Lord. I want the Holy Precincts to myself, without 2 million fellow believers. Call me selfish, but, it's my Best Friend's house. I can't help being selfish when it comes to my Best Friend. Besides, since I have already made my Hajj, I'll give up my space for another Muslim brother or sister who has yet to fulfill this most important of Islamic ritual obligations.
This time, however, I want to go with three beautiful women. No, silly, I don't have two other wives (shame on you for thinking that). I want to go with my wife and two daughters. I especially want to take my eldest daughter. She was diagnosed with Ataxia-Telangiectasia, a crippling and ultimately fatal genetic disease. We learned of her diagnosis in the weeks after we returned from Mecca two years ago. She's always wanted to go to God's House, and I desperately want to take her. I know that she will feel immediately at home, because she came to me from Him.
I want her to see the Ka'ba, the Black Stone, the hillocks of Safa and Marwa, the glory of God's House. I want her to taste how sweet the waters of the Zamzam well are. I want her to feel the presence of the Prophet Muhammad and taste the sweetness of his city and his mosque. I want her to feel what I felt when I went to the Hajj. I know she will love it.
When I roll her in her stroller (she is not able to walk very long distances any more) up to the Ka'ba, I want to say with her, "Here I am, O God, at your service, here I am!" Some may want to go back to God's House and complain or say, "Why?" I will not do that. God chose for me to be tested with having a child with a crippling disability, and I have to be patient. I learned how to be patient with God's tests during the Hajj. Moreover, the friendship I developed with God during the Hajj has become indispensable for helping me deal with my painful new reality.
So, when I go back to His house, I will go gladly. The Hajj and my daughter will forever be intimately linked, and to have my daughter with me in Mecca will be an immensely emotional time for me.
For the rest of my life, Mecca will always be in my heart. Mecca will always call to me, and I will always feel at home there at my Best Friend's house. And I don't think this feeling will ever go away, even if I go back 100 times. And so, I want to go back. I hope and pray that day comes very soon.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
The Hantaran
For some reasons or another, my blog always got some hits from searches for "gubahan hantaran". So as not to dissappoint those who have been trying hard to get some ideas (or those who take pleasure from sneaking a peek at other people's hantaran), here's a picture of mine. All prepared and decorated by my auntie, Nyah, who used to be a school teacher and now a stay-at-home mom in Bandar Baru Bangi.
There's the fruit basket, the watch, the chocolates (Bachi & Ferrero Rocher surrounded by chocolate coins), more chocolates in green containers (courtesy of Mak's former personal assistant), the samping, the large choc chip cookies (all hidden in the container with weaved ribbons), the towel & fleeces set, the baju pengantin (the one he wore during the kenduri sambut menantu in Seremban), and the perfume & toiletries set. |
What marriage is all about
| While I must admit that I am kinda a fan of most InTeam's songs, my hubby is not a big fan at all. "Jiwang sangat." He prefers Hijjaz, Raihan or Nowseeheart - to him, their songs make more sense while carrying the universal message of Islam. Still, there's one or two InTeam songs with lyrics that could make him stop and ponder (and even sang along to) like this one below, which talks about what marriage is all about... Okay, maybe not quite "all", but the essence of it is there anyway... So, this one goes out to newly-married couples, not-so-newly married couples and to-be-married couples... Kasihmu Amanahku (In Team - Damba Kasih, 2003) Pernikahan menyingkap tabir rahsia suami isteri inginkan keluarga yang bahagia dan mengharapkan sebuah bahtera indah untuk bersama belayar ke muara Pernikahan, menginsafkan kita perlunya iman dan takwa, meniti sabar dan redha bila masa senang syukuri nikmat Tuhan susah mendatang tempuhi dengan tabah Isteri janji telah dipateri diijab kabulkan dan dirahmati detik pertemuan dan pernikahan yang dihujani air mata kasih demi syurga Ilahi Suami jangan menagih setia umpama Hajar dan setianya Zulaikha terimalah seadanya yang terindah di lubuk hatimu isteri adalah amanah buatmu Pernikahan mengajar tanggungjawab bersama suami dan isteri Isteri hamparan dunia Suami langit penaungnya Isteri ladang tanaman Suamilah pemagarnya Isteri bagai kejora Suami menjadi purnama Tika isteri beri hempedu Suami tabah menelannya Tika suami terteguk racun Isteri carilah penawarnya Sungguh isteri rusuk yang rapuh berhati-hatilah meluruskannya Lagu & Lirik : Abai Os (Hijjaz Records Sdn. Bhd.) |
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Berita Kepada Kawan
| Got this Indonesian song lyric via e-mail and thought it's kinda interesting - in the wake of the recent tsunami disaster... Berita Kepada Kawan Oleh: Ebiet G. Ade Perjalanan ini terasa sangat menyedihkan Sayang, engkau tak duduk di sampingku kawan Banyak cerita yang mestinya kau saksikan Di tanah kering berbatuan Tubuh ku terguncang di hempas batu jalanan Hati tergetar menampak kering rerumputan Perjalanan ini pun seperti jadi saksi Gembala kecil menangis sedih Kawan coba dengar apa jawabnya Ketika ia ku tanya "Mengapa?" Bapak ibunya telah lama mati Ditelan bencana tanah ini Sesampainya di laut ku khabarkan semuanya Kepada karang, kepada ombak, kepada matahari Tetapi semua diam, tetapi semua bisu Tinggal aku sendiri terpaku menatap langit Barangkali di sana ada jawabnya Mengapa di tanahku terjadi bencana Mungkin Tuhan mulai bosan melihat tingkah kita Yang selalu salah dan bangga dengan dosa-dosa Atau alam mulai enggan bersahabat dengan kita Coba kita bertanya pada rumput yang bergoyang |
Monday, January 17, 2005
Making adjustments
It’s not that easy, when…
- One is so used to have a bibik to do this and that… suddenly finding herself having to do loads of stuff – not only for herself but also for someone else;
- One is so used to make lots of important decision on her own… now has to consider and ask another person’s opinion first before deciding on anything rather major;
- One is so used to be gila-gila, outgoing, and all … now has to keep reminding herself to be on best behaviour in public because others are observing her as “orang rumah Ustaz”;
- One is so used to discuss a lot of things with a mother with a global perspective and enjoys watching CNN and Al Jazeera… and now return to a ‘new’ stay-at-home mother who form parts of the neighbourhood grapevine and enjoys Gerak Khas tremendously;
- One is so used to skip dinner… now has to eat dinner because the ‘new’ mother (who’s so used to mothering and yet has no kids left at home now) insists on it;
- One is so used to pamper some cats after work… now find herself in a household where cats are treated as the enemies because they keep stealing the lauk and scavenge the rubbish bin;
- One is so used to stay back and blog almost daily after office hours… now has to stop doing so because she has to be on time to ensure that she doesn’t miss her car-pool trip home;
- As one is just beginning to get used to have a protective, supportive, understanding and loving husband by her side, he suddenly has to stay 600km away for a one-year course...
But then again, nobody said life is easy, huh?
- One is so used to have a bibik to do this and that… suddenly finding herself having to do loads of stuff – not only for herself but also for someone else;
- One is so used to make lots of important decision on her own… now has to consider and ask another person’s opinion first before deciding on anything rather major;
- One is so used to be gila-gila, outgoing, and all … now has to keep reminding herself to be on best behaviour in public because others are observing her as “orang rumah Ustaz”;
- One is so used to discuss a lot of things with a mother with a global perspective and enjoys watching CNN and Al Jazeera… and now return to a ‘new’ stay-at-home mother who form parts of the neighbourhood grapevine and enjoys Gerak Khas tremendously;
- One is so used to skip dinner… now has to eat dinner because the ‘new’ mother (who’s so used to mothering and yet has no kids left at home now) insists on it;
- One is so used to pamper some cats after work… now find herself in a household where cats are treated as the enemies because they keep stealing the lauk and scavenge the rubbish bin;
- One is so used to stay back and blog almost daily after office hours… now has to stop doing so because she has to be on time to ensure that she doesn’t miss her car-pool trip home;
- As one is just beginning to get used to have a protective, supportive, understanding and loving husband by her side, he suddenly has to stay 600km away for a one-year course...
But then again, nobody said life is easy, huh?
The Wake Up Call
Mak said that the recent tsunami reminded her of her old days as a young kid staying in a typical kampung house in Pontian.
Why?
Allahyarham Mak Tua, Mak’s late mother, used to wake the children up for Subuh prayer early in the morning daily through some steps.
Firstly, she would simply announced sternly and loudly, “Bangun, bangun. Subuh, subuh”
The elder kids would immediately jumped at this and quickly folded their blanket or went to the telaga (well) for morning bath and ablution.
Then, seeing that some kids were still not awake, Mak Tua would knock on the wooden wall to make some noise while asking the kids to wake up.
This method usually worked to wake the rest of the kids up who would join the elder kids tidying up the room or went to the telaga.
Sometimes though, there would be one or two extra exhausted kids who wouldn’t respond to the noises made from wall knocking and other activities around them.
As a last resort, Mak Tua would use a sure fire method to wake her kids up.
She would go to the front door, get a gayung of water, and…
….shhhhheeeesssshhhhhh
poured the content down on the still-sleepy-kid’s face.
It always worked.
Despite the wet pillow, wet mattress and all, it never failed to get the kid to be instantly alert and paid more attention to what the mother had to say.
Which to Mak, seemed just like how the recent tsunami has caused many to suddenly be more aware of their behaviours and many more to start paying serious attention to words of God.
It seemed to Mak, water always work well as a wake up call…
Why?
Allahyarham Mak Tua, Mak’s late mother, used to wake the children up for Subuh prayer early in the morning daily through some steps.
Firstly, she would simply announced sternly and loudly, “Bangun, bangun. Subuh, subuh”
The elder kids would immediately jumped at this and quickly folded their blanket or went to the telaga (well) for morning bath and ablution.
Then, seeing that some kids were still not awake, Mak Tua would knock on the wooden wall to make some noise while asking the kids to wake up.
This method usually worked to wake the rest of the kids up who would join the elder kids tidying up the room or went to the telaga.
Sometimes though, there would be one or two extra exhausted kids who wouldn’t respond to the noises made from wall knocking and other activities around them.
As a last resort, Mak Tua would use a sure fire method to wake her kids up.
She would go to the front door, get a gayung of water, and…
….shhhhheeeesssshhhhhh
poured the content down on the still-sleepy-kid’s face.
It always worked.
Despite the wet pillow, wet mattress and all, it never failed to get the kid to be instantly alert and paid more attention to what the mother had to say.
Which to Mak, seemed just like how the recent tsunami has caused many to suddenly be more aware of their behaviours and many more to start paying serious attention to words of God.
It seemed to Mak, water always work well as a wake up call…
Friday, January 07, 2005
Loss... so sudden
“LIFE... so fragile.
LOSS... so sudden.
HEART... so broken.
In the wake of such a loss, we're haunted by things we don't - and may never - understand. Yet the solace we seek may not come from answers. So we look for comfort in the belief of love's everlasting connection. May that love lift you, hold you close, and give you peace.”
- wording as found on a serene looking Hallmark card with a single white Iris against midnight black background cover.
Dear Ariff, Faisal & Junaidi.
We have been waiting patiently for news regarding your family and relatives but yet to hear anything. Sms messages were sent & we tried calling your hand phone in Egypt, but alas, none of you could be reached.
It’s difficult to imagine ourselves in your place. It’s impossible to imagine your pain. Personal loss is always more tragic and we have no right to claim that we understand how you feel or what you are going through. We don’t. It’s beyond our comprehension.
Still, please be assured that we will all be here for you and your family should you need anything... Our thoughts and prayers are with you, as you face this difficult transitional time in your life.
While we are never prepared for the loss of loved ones, Allah is always there to help us through that loss. We pray that He will guide you always as the healing begin in your heart and soul and may His love surround you with the comfort only He can give.
Take good care.
Our love and prayers are with you always,
Bapak, Ibu, Abang, Kakak
Kampung Tunku, Malaysia.
* note: Ariff, Faisal & Junaidi are Achehnese currently pursuing their Masters degree in Egypt which are partly sponsored by my father's family members and my family have come to regard them as part of our own family. We have yet to learn about their family's fate after the recent tsunami disaster in Sumatera.
LOSS... so sudden.
HEART... so broken.
In the wake of such a loss, we're haunted by things we don't - and may never - understand. Yet the solace we seek may not come from answers. So we look for comfort in the belief of love's everlasting connection. May that love lift you, hold you close, and give you peace.”
- wording as found on a serene looking Hallmark card with a single white Iris against midnight black background cover.
Dear Ariff, Faisal & Junaidi.
We have been waiting patiently for news regarding your family and relatives but yet to hear anything. Sms messages were sent & we tried calling your hand phone in Egypt, but alas, none of you could be reached.
It’s difficult to imagine ourselves in your place. It’s impossible to imagine your pain. Personal loss is always more tragic and we have no right to claim that we understand how you feel or what you are going through. We don’t. It’s beyond our comprehension.
Still, please be assured that we will all be here for you and your family should you need anything... Our thoughts and prayers are with you, as you face this difficult transitional time in your life.
While we are never prepared for the loss of loved ones, Allah is always there to help us through that loss. We pray that He will guide you always as the healing begin in your heart and soul and may His love surround you with the comfort only He can give.
Take good care.
Our love and prayers are with you always,
Bapak, Ibu, Abang, Kakak
Kampung Tunku, Malaysia.
* note: Ariff, Faisal & Junaidi are Achehnese currently pursuing their Masters degree in Egypt which are partly sponsored by my father's family members and my family have come to regard them as part of our own family. We have yet to learn about their family's fate after the recent tsunami disaster in Sumatera.
*17 Jan 2005 - Update:
After a long and anxious wait, finally we got some words from Ayah’s Achehnese adopted sons in Egypt last week. Junaidi called to let us know that Ariff, Faisal & him did not lose any of their immediate family members during the recent tsunami disaster. They said that they are okay, but all of them have lost some relatives – cousins, uncles, aunties, etc. Please pray for all of them, ya - both for those who have passed away & those who survive...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
