Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah

64. Wobbly in adventure.

🍁If you start to feel doubtful, then come closer to God. Find answers in your heart about the peace you want.🍁

Hara's.

In the past, weekends were days where I could relax and take up a hobby. Come to the entertainment place on Saturday night, gather with friends, spend bottles of drinks until drunk, ending with playing fun things at the hotel. In the morning, I woke up feeling very dizzy in the head and the stomach felt nauseous. But I never remember what happened yesterday. I don't care, it's natural that the brain can't store the memory of events experienced while drunk. Because alcohol scrambles the brain's work system, so it can not work optimally.

Now everything is inversely proportional. Weekends are no longer the right time to relax, let alone do personal pleasure like before. Sunday is no longer a time for laziness, as a lot of work awaits to be done. I almost forgot, what it was like to hang out at the night entertainment venue, although it was still very filled with atmosphere full of uforia there.

“Quick, Hara! You will be late for church!” mbak Nabila shouted that sounded throughout the house.

Since this morning, he has been waking me up. As always, Mbak Nabila is the one who pays the most attention to worship issues, even though we have different beliefs. According to him, worship is the most important thing in life. Free to work all the time, but leave worship. You will only get satisfaction in the world, but forget the provision of eternal life in the future.

“Breakfast first, have made coffee,” said Mbak Nabila when I came out of the room.

“Makasih, Mbak.” answered me immediately pulled the chair and joined Mas Akmal and Naufal who had already sat facing the dining table. While Pak Wawan since dawn has gone to the fields.

“You use car or motor, Mas?” asked Mbak Nabila to Mas Akmal who was eating breakfast.

“Motor only,” Mas Akmal replied briefly.

“Not bothered to go home, Mas? If Naufal sleepy how?” I confirmed Mas Akmal's answer, because our trip was quite far and they would go home together later without me.

“Ngaklah. If you sleepy later Naufal left alone, right, sorted.” Mas Akmal ended the sentence with a laugh while looking at his son's suddenly pouting face.

“Ampun, to, Sir! Mangkih Naufal wangsule pripun?” sulk Naufal with pleading eyes. (Don't, yeah, sir! How will Naufal go home?)

“Yo rasah bali, ben ro tak isoh tandem,” Mas Akmal replied in a joking tone. (No need to go home, let the same mother can be alone.)

Naufal pursed his lips until his face looked funny. I couldn't help but laugh. This family can indeed most create warmth with simple chatter that contains humor.

“Already, quickly finish the meal! Let Hara not be late until church.” exclaimed Mbak Nabila, stopping her husband who was still trying to tease Naufal.

“Why go all the way, anyway? Usually you go to a church near here, right?” Mas Akmal looked at me, asking for an explanation.

Last night I asked Mas Akmal to take me to church today. However, it has not explained why it should be a faraway place, not the church that I used to go every Sunday morning. No one knows about the inner upheaval that has lately become more disturbing.

“You met the pastor who used to take care of me in the dorm, Mas. I have something to ask him. All of you want to take a car at the boss' house, the distance is not far from the church.” Akmal nodded, understanding my explanation.

We immediately finished breakfast, then set off through the cold morning air. Although it traveled across the province, it did not take long to reach the church located near my boarding school. Traffic is very smooth because the road is empty, not many vehicles have been driven.

I attended Sunday morning mass from start to finish. Still silent on the spot, until all jama’at out of the church. Because, I had made an appointment with the pastor yesterday, we were only able to meet after the series of worship was completed.

I and my pastor have been talking a few times over whatsapp chat and phone. Not enough to draw conclusions, we planned this meeting. Until we can sit next to each other and talk together right now.

“What's the cause, Hara? Does this have anything to do with women?” The first question the priest I've been familiar with since boarding school. The usual estimate, if a man experiences inner turmoil about belief, the cause is women.

I nodded, without giving an answer. The pastor took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and said, “There is no smoke if there is no fire. There must be something that causes your heart to become restless and your confidence almost waver.”

“I still come to church every week, keep praying the way we do. However, I only realized that all this time I did not find the calm as I felt when I was with them.” I replied, repeating the story I had previously told in a short message.

“They are who?” the Pastor asked without looking at me, his gaze straight in front of the altar.

“Before marrying papa, mom had a family with two twin daughters. Now I live with my ex-husband and one of his daughters.”.

“They influence you to follow the same beliefs?” the pastor asked in a probing tone.

I shook my head loudly, “Tadi, even Mbak Nabila was chatty because I did not leave for church immediately. Her husband brought me here and waited in front. Nothing affects me at all.”

“Then I can't help you. Because the issue of belief depends on the person of each person.” Pastor stood patting me on the shoulder before it passed, “Ask in your heart, what can make him calm down. Never stay away from God! If you are on an adventure, hopefully soon find your way home.”

I shut up, put my fingers in front of my chest. The echoing sound of the knocking of the priest's shoes sounded heartbreaking. I bowed my head, feeling peace in silence, but it felt nothing.

“The Lord Jesus is all good, He who has given me the blessing of life. Everything I achieved at this time, was because of his love.” I muttered in a very slow voice, almost only heard by myself.

“From then until now, I have never doubted Your power. Though I have always felt that You were unjust, for having snatched away my most precious possession and allowed me to live as a person in this cruel world. Is that why I have never found tranquility, despite being in Your house?”

“On behalf of father, son and holy spirit .. amen.”

I came out of the church, and people dressed in Muslim clothes came out of the building opposite the church. The atmosphere in front of the church was crowded, it did not change from the time I was in boarding school. The front field of the church is full of people who are exercising or just family time by enjoying a variety of culinary that is peddled on the sidelines.

I searched the parking lot, the black matic motor was still there; meaning that Akmal and Naufal had not returned. Though I said earlier, if later waiting for them can go home first. Taking the car to the house Aneesha can walk, because the distance is not too far.

I spread my eyes around the pitch, until I found two fathers and sons sitting on the edge of the field, right behind the goal. Two men of different generations whose faces look similar are concentrating on seeing a children's football club that is training in the middle of the field.

I had to turn half the field to get to them. Being too serious to watch, Naufal was unaware of my arrival. Even until I sat next to him.

“It's done, Hara?” ask Mas Akmal.

“Already, Mas. I thought you guys were home.” I replied.

“He doesn't want to be invited home, he wants to watch football. Though from earlier he watched for a while, his snacks were a lot.” Mas Akmal took a bottle of mineral water, gave it to me, “You want to drink? I bought two earlier.”

“Thank you,” I received Mas Akmal's gift. Unseal and close the bottle, then immediately downing the mineral water to wet my dry throat.

“Many, yes, here?” ask Mas Akmal. With a takjup view he continued the sentence, “Salut is the same manager. One place can be used for various activities, also move the wheels of the community economy around.”

I agree with Mas Akmal. The local government-owned field located right in front of the church is used every week for gymnastics activities and soccer club exercises. On the edge there is a jogging track that can be used for jogging, walking, playing roller skates or skeatboard. Here also there are some traders who sell, either settled or just come every Sunday.

“Bali, Fal! Om Hara wes finished, you.” invite Mas Akmal. (Back, Fal. Om Hara is done, you know)

Naufal. He still seriously sees kids practicing football, while his mouth doesn't stop chewing food. I don't know how many rupiah Mas Akmal spent to obey the wishes of the boy. I saw siomay, grilled sausage and skewered meatballs tucked away next to Naufal's seat. While he was eating egg rolls and there was an empty place to eat, I don't know what.

“Kosek, Sir. Nek wes disbanded (Shortly, sir. When you're done),” replied Naufal.

He took one egg roll, then ate it. Just one bite, he had already taken out the mineral water and downed it. Probably because most of it was sauces on those rolled eggs, so Naufal spiciness.

“Tumbas mimic, Sir! (Buy a drink, Sir!)” after finishing one bottle of mineral water.

“Lah, really, dienteke?” (why spent?) Mas Akmal held up an empty bottle of mineral water.

“Pedes, Sir!” naufal exclaimed as he fanned his mouth with his hands, making me amused to see the spiciness.

“Om buy a drink,” I said while standing.

“Sing kae, yo, Om! (That's it, yeah, Om!)” Naufal pointed at the light green thaitea booth stand. It appears that several teenagers were queuing in front of the booth.

“Ah! Add suwe iki le bali,” gerutu Mas Akmal. (More recently his home.)

I hurried to buy the drink Naufal asked for. The child certainly can not resist spicy, but instead ask to buy a drink that must be queued. It is only fitting that he feels at home for a long time in this field. Many snacks are available, he can choose whatever he wants.

Moreover, the seating of Naufal and Mas Akmal is the most strategic place, can see all the activities that take place in the field from there. According to the story, Reyfan proposed to Aneesha at that place. When he was forced to stay at Aneesha's house, because I could not be reached and did not come. It was a day I will never forget, where I found Pak Wawan's family suit so many years not interconnected.

In addition to Reyfan and Aneesha, maybe this field will be a favorite place of Naufal. Or it will be a comfortable place for me in search of peace of heart. A neutral place that can gather people of different beliefs, sit and talk together. Symbol of tolerance in actual practice. Coexist, without interrupting personal beliefs.

During these few months, I was able to stay with Pak Wawan's family comfortably. You can work with Kyai Ali without burden, because I love that job. Although different religions with them, but I never felt excluded. Their treatment is very good, especially Ms. Nabila, she makes me feel the affection of an older sister and mother. During the queue, I thought about the priest's words earlier. Our long discussion has not yet reached a common ground. Maybe it's true that I have to feel myself in my heart, about what makes me waver.

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Hi guys! Readers who are kind and smiley, diligent worship and helpful 😊. Sorry, it's a holiday, hehe. So cool to forget the day, know it is Monday and not finished typing at all, has not been confirmed to the source as well. Actually just want to find the right name for the pastor, anyway. However, in the end I decided not to give a name, let not most figures. (Reason alone, anyway, please be advised)😊

So for the next chapter, don't wait, yeah! I'm looking for a place that is fun for the Mas Pak Hara treaty. See you next week. 😊

Greetings from my loving, loving, 

Desi Desma/ La Lu Na.