My Mini Quran

Mine was black and gold engrave on the outside, the colour of our Kaabah. Never leave my sight since late 2003. The story on how I get the Holy Quran of mine was as intrigued as ever. It was a miracle, and yes, it is close to my heart.

As usual, my old me who is always late than early in performing my solah, sitting on my prayer mat. Staying there, thinking about homework and such. I am tired. I am sleepy. Still in my school uniform though, as I was a prefect, staying late as all the school loads was never bored me at that time.

While my thoughts were here and there, flying high and slow in paces, I heard a little knock on my bedroom door. It was my dad. He just got home from work.

Dad: Oh… you just perform your solah?

Me: Yes, dad. Why is it?

Dad: Are you okay? What did you do? What just you have done? (In a high tone nearly as angry tone)

Me: (puzzled) … I did nothing, as far as I know. Why dad?

Dad: I think you should care more about your solah and everything that I have thought you all this while.

Me: (still puzzled)

Dad: Here, Auntie Azizah bought you something from Makkah. She said that she saw you there!

I was puzzled, shock and my tears was pouring heavy as ever. I was trembling. I was shocked and startled!

Dad: Take care of this Quran. It was yours. It is yours.

The story behind it, which made me trembling and crying as hard as I can, is… I was struggling with my past since I can remember. It was my first past event that I want to forget. I called it my little black box. Like a Pandora I guess? Yeah, I am as happy as other 15 years old girl; wonderful friends and schools, amazing family. I have full support in every ways. Loving Kreko comics and manga, samurai X anime, and all other normal young girl should have. Oh, how I misses that time so much. But, I have my little black box which I want it to terminally disappear from my memories!

The little black box was dated since I was four years old. I took time for me to understand it the way it is. The day I realized it was wrong was when I am twelve years old. I start to love isolating myself from others whenever it was possible. With small group of close friends, I keep regaining my traumatized little me at that time by occupying myself with activities. When I am alone, I always find HIM. It’s not that I want to say that I am a good young girl, but that was how my dad builds me. Tears never leave me until I fall asleep, and woke up with a lighter heart wrenched feeling.

My mini Quran was a sign. It was a sign from my Creator. HE is speaking to me to stay strong, hold firm on my faith. It was a token of love, and it comes in the form of my mini Quran. For days, I was secluded. I thought I am going to die soon. Whatever the reason and meaning it is, I was touch and fragile as ever. It feels like I want to stay in my mum’s arm every second and never leave my house out of sight anyhow. I’ve grown with the feeling of doubt and asking for helps since then.

As I grew older, I start to feel and understand the beautiful meaning behind it. My Creator has helps me to see my problems the way I never expected it to be. It (helps) always come on the right time. I gained the strength to hold the answer forever until I will rose upon in the hereafter. Every obstacle has been given only to whom who can bear it. Alhamdulillah, tears and pain was worth it. I’ve forgave the person who gave me that little black box event, but HE awards me with patience and love; through my mini Quran.

Never End.

Until then, love.