I have never met her,
Yet she has touched my life.
I have never spoken to her,
Yet I have heard her voice,
I have never helped her,
But my prayers go out for her.
May Allah keep her safe in comfort,
May her family be kept strong,
May her husband and her boys,
Accept. Be Proud. Remember. Love.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Farewell Friday
Last Friday we went out for a farewell lunch. MY farewell lunch. It really is happening. I am leaving.
Scared and excited again. Another new adventure awaits. Each time a new challenge suffice, the stakes get bigger.
As I sit at my table now thinking how I will plan the next few years of my life, I realised that these plans belong more to the kids than mine. I am now tagging along their future. Has it come to that stage already? If things go as planned, my little man will be off in just a few years' time. Followed by my little princess...... Ohhhh. Grieving already? I used to be sad for those that leave. Now I am sad for those that are left behind. Will I cope to be on my own? Literally. By then, the kids will be in universities and they won't need me hovering over them anymore. They were the ones that have kept me going all these years. What will happen when they have gone away? I'll be alone. I wouldn't know what to do with myself! (Imagine me saying that!)
For now, I will take it as it is. For all you know, Allah may change everything that we have planned, as He can and has.
Scared and excited again. Another new adventure awaits. Each time a new challenge suffice, the stakes get bigger.
As I sit at my table now thinking how I will plan the next few years of my life, I realised that these plans belong more to the kids than mine. I am now tagging along their future. Has it come to that stage already? If things go as planned, my little man will be off in just a few years' time. Followed by my little princess...... Ohhhh. Grieving already? I used to be sad for those that leave. Now I am sad for those that are left behind. Will I cope to be on my own? Literally. By then, the kids will be in universities and they won't need me hovering over them anymore. They were the ones that have kept me going all these years. What will happen when they have gone away? I'll be alone. I wouldn't know what to do with myself! (Imagine me saying that!)
For now, I will take it as it is. For all you know, Allah may change everything that we have planned, as He can and has.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Friday Prayers
As I finished delivering my lecture at the Nursing College that Friday morning, my colleague invited me to join her for lunch. Friday lunches are always nice, as the break hours were longer to accommodate Friday prayers. To be honest, I have never attended a Friday prayer, as this was always a congregation of the male community. Nevertheless, there is always space provided in the mosque for female to attend.
As we got ready to go out for lunch, my friend introduced me to her group of friends that she works with. This was my first visit to her hospital and I was greeted with smiles and salam. The clinic Sister and Nurses were very friendly, and I felt as if we had known each other for years as the conversation became very "rancak". As we approached her car to go to this restaurant, one of her Medical Assistant (a guy) called out to join us. I looked at my watch. It was 12.30 midday, and there will be enough time for him to join us for lunch and then to Friday prayers.
He got in the car, and we drove to this very nice garden restaurant. It was a wee distant away from the hospital and I worried that we might not finish in time for him to make it back for prayers.
By 1pm, we were eating away, and the food was superlicious! But hey, everybody was taking their own sweet time, including this chap.
By 1.30pm, we were still there. I was getting uncomfortable to be sitting in the group, as it was obvious by then that he was not going to be attending the Friday Prayers. I was very disappointed in him, and the others who sat comfortably there chatting away. But who am I to judge? I don't even know them (other than my colleague). And why should I care? But I did....
I thought hard about it on my 2 hour drive home after lunch. What is happening to the Muslim community here? Are we so complacent and too comfortable, to be accepting such as 'biasalah' (common). It was also such a bold statement for him to make as well, to be sitting in public chatting and laughing while the obligatory prayers had started.
My eyes started to water. Why was this affecting me so much? I was saddened that for a Muslim, he boldly stated that he didn't care, and as a Muslim, I didn't say anything to him. But I suppose that is between him and Allah. But should I have said something? I know that I never want to associate myself with men in that category, personally. I hope Allah will guide me away from Muslims who do not practice the five pillars of Islam. But could it be that Allah guided me there to help him? To play part in my Dakwah as an Ummah?
Maybe, if he knew the benefits of the Friday prayer congregation, that every step taken to the mosque he will have the reward of fasting and praying qiyaam for one year, that his sins (excluding major sins) will be forgiven between the week of the Friday prayers, and that the angels will greet him at the front door of the mosque as he enters, like a VVIP in the eyes of Allah, and as he sits and listens to the khutbah, he will be surrounded by his fellow brothers, from which later he can exchange greeting and views, creating the close knit ummah as preached by Islam who will support him in good and in bad times...maybe he will attend?
Each man in there is a leader in his own rights. I hope my son will have enough guidance, enough faith, enough belief to grow up to be a good Muslim, and I would not like anything or anybody to come in the way of his faith.
The weight on my shoulders suddenly heavies as I reached home. That was definitely a long drive home.
As we got ready to go out for lunch, my friend introduced me to her group of friends that she works with. This was my first visit to her hospital and I was greeted with smiles and salam. The clinic Sister and Nurses were very friendly, and I felt as if we had known each other for years as the conversation became very "rancak". As we approached her car to go to this restaurant, one of her Medical Assistant (a guy) called out to join us. I looked at my watch. It was 12.30 midday, and there will be enough time for him to join us for lunch and then to Friday prayers.
He got in the car, and we drove to this very nice garden restaurant. It was a wee distant away from the hospital and I worried that we might not finish in time for him to make it back for prayers.
By 1pm, we were eating away, and the food was superlicious! But hey, everybody was taking their own sweet time, including this chap.
By 1.30pm, we were still there. I was getting uncomfortable to be sitting in the group, as it was obvious by then that he was not going to be attending the Friday Prayers. I was very disappointed in him, and the others who sat comfortably there chatting away. But who am I to judge? I don't even know them (other than my colleague). And why should I care? But I did....
I thought hard about it on my 2 hour drive home after lunch. What is happening to the Muslim community here? Are we so complacent and too comfortable, to be accepting such as 'biasalah' (common). It was also such a bold statement for him to make as well, to be sitting in public chatting and laughing while the obligatory prayers had started.
My eyes started to water. Why was this affecting me so much? I was saddened that for a Muslim, he boldly stated that he didn't care, and as a Muslim, I didn't say anything to him. But I suppose that is between him and Allah. But should I have said something? I know that I never want to associate myself with men in that category, personally. I hope Allah will guide me away from Muslims who do not practice the five pillars of Islam. But could it be that Allah guided me there to help him? To play part in my Dakwah as an Ummah?
Maybe, if he knew the benefits of the Friday prayer congregation, that every step taken to the mosque he will have the reward of fasting and praying qiyaam for one year, that his sins (excluding major sins) will be forgiven between the week of the Friday prayers, and that the angels will greet him at the front door of the mosque as he enters, like a VVIP in the eyes of Allah, and as he sits and listens to the khutbah, he will be surrounded by his fellow brothers, from which later he can exchange greeting and views, creating the close knit ummah as preached by Islam who will support him in good and in bad times...maybe he will attend?
Each man in there is a leader in his own rights. I hope my son will have enough guidance, enough faith, enough belief to grow up to be a good Muslim, and I would not like anything or anybody to come in the way of his faith.
The weight on my shoulders suddenly heavies as I reached home. That was definitely a long drive home.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
sick of worrying, worrying to sickness
Doctors are the worst patients. We never follow our own advice, and we get the worst illnesses.
"Stop worrying" I told my patient. "It'll make your condition worst."
Anyway, I've had a bit more time to myself lately, mainly because I have just no desire to do anything else but. Hence, the more frequent entries the past few days. And as this blog is served to untangle mangled thoughts, here I go again.
Things on my mind:
Growing pains. 2 growing up kids going through the changes in life.
Societal stigma to widow-ism.
Inter-racial, inter-national, long distance relationship.
Religion.
Disability and unemployment.
Security.
Family expectations.
Job and career.
Balance.
The desire to make others do their best to keep up with what their potentials are is actually a part of my everyday job. Sometimes, I forget the boundaries between career and personal life. I push and push. They don't budge. Should I just accept that they do not want to change? Why is it so important to me to see those changes, when they themselves do not care less? Stupid me. It's tiring. For patients, I can discharge them. For people closer to me, I cannot.
So, I tell myself, stop putting in my energy in fighting a loosing battle. Those soldiers have put up a white flag, and its time to move on. Lets focus on more fruitful things. Time is running out, and we are not going to be here for ever.
And for those out there who thinks that all widows are desperate, PLEASE! Those are your own insecurities talking. Nevertheless, it is still painful to hear.
"Stop worrying" I told my patient. "It'll make your condition worst."
Anyway, I've had a bit more time to myself lately, mainly because I have just no desire to do anything else but. Hence, the more frequent entries the past few days. And as this blog is served to untangle mangled thoughts, here I go again.
Things on my mind:
Growing pains. 2 growing up kids going through the changes in life.
Societal stigma to widow-ism.
Inter-racial, inter-national, long distance relationship.
Religion.
Disability and unemployment.
Security.
Family expectations.
Job and career.
Balance.
The desire to make others do their best to keep up with what their potentials are is actually a part of my everyday job. Sometimes, I forget the boundaries between career and personal life. I push and push. They don't budge. Should I just accept that they do not want to change? Why is it so important to me to see those changes, when they themselves do not care less? Stupid me. It's tiring. For patients, I can discharge them. For people closer to me, I cannot.
So, I tell myself, stop putting in my energy in fighting a loosing battle. Those soldiers have put up a white flag, and its time to move on. Lets focus on more fruitful things. Time is running out, and we are not going to be here for ever.
And for those out there who thinks that all widows are desperate, PLEASE! Those are your own insecurities talking. Nevertheless, it is still painful to hear.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
report card day
I took 2 hours off work yesterday morning to go and pick up the kids report cards.
I keep telling my children that number placings in class is not the ultimate reflection of their achievements. I wanted them to enjoy what they do and feel that what ever they have achieved is based on the belief that they have tried their best.
"What number did you get?" I remembered my father asking me when I was in standard 4. It was a hot evening and the ceiling fan was spinning at full speed. I looked up at him. My heart was pounding. I didn't do too well, and my number in the class had deteriorated from number 9 to 15 or 16. It wasn't the top 10 like last semester.
I gave him my report card.
He looked at it, and with dismay he immediately flung it up in the air. I remembered it hitting the spinning ceiling fan and tossed to the corner of the room.
No conversation. No reasoning. I scrambled to pick up the report card and ran to my room. And that was where it ended, though the pain and memory stuck till this day. I had to send back the report card to my class teacher tomorrow. Like any frightened young 10 year old, I decided to forge his signature. The next morning, he asked for it again, so he could sign it. Oh no.....
"Your son has done very well. He got 8As" complimented his teacher. "Unfortunately, he also got a B, C, D and an E. That has resulted his placings to go down in the bottom quartile although his total percentage was very good".
His Arabic subjects had brought him down. I knew he had tried his best, but the subjects were just too confusing for him that he didn't know what he didn't know. Instead of wanting to blame his teachers, or him directly, we discussed to see where the problem was, and how to find the solution. I didn't want my son to feel that he had disappointed anyone, as I knew he was already disappointed in himself.
"You can do it." his teacher encouraged him. We worked out a few solutions, and will see how he goes before the year end.
"Well done." I told him. For a young man, barely 13 years old, whom does his studies driven by his own will, never did I need to push him to open up his books or force him to tuition classes, I think this is where his future success skills will lie.
This is also one of the first few teacher parent meetings that I have found incredibly fruitful. Well done to his teachers too.
I keep telling my children that number placings in class is not the ultimate reflection of their achievements. I wanted them to enjoy what they do and feel that what ever they have achieved is based on the belief that they have tried their best.
"What number did you get?" I remembered my father asking me when I was in standard 4. It was a hot evening and the ceiling fan was spinning at full speed. I looked up at him. My heart was pounding. I didn't do too well, and my number in the class had deteriorated from number 9 to 15 or 16. It wasn't the top 10 like last semester.
I gave him my report card.
He looked at it, and with dismay he immediately flung it up in the air. I remembered it hitting the spinning ceiling fan and tossed to the corner of the room.
No conversation. No reasoning. I scrambled to pick up the report card and ran to my room. And that was where it ended, though the pain and memory stuck till this day. I had to send back the report card to my class teacher tomorrow. Like any frightened young 10 year old, I decided to forge his signature. The next morning, he asked for it again, so he could sign it. Oh no.....
"Your son has done very well. He got 8As" complimented his teacher. "Unfortunately, he also got a B, C, D and an E. That has resulted his placings to go down in the bottom quartile although his total percentage was very good".
His Arabic subjects had brought him down. I knew he had tried his best, but the subjects were just too confusing for him that he didn't know what he didn't know. Instead of wanting to blame his teachers, or him directly, we discussed to see where the problem was, and how to find the solution. I didn't want my son to feel that he had disappointed anyone, as I knew he was already disappointed in himself.
"You can do it." his teacher encouraged him. We worked out a few solutions, and will see how he goes before the year end.
"Well done." I told him. For a young man, barely 13 years old, whom does his studies driven by his own will, never did I need to push him to open up his books or force him to tuition classes, I think this is where his future success skills will lie.
This is also one of the first few teacher parent meetings that I have found incredibly fruitful. Well done to his teachers too.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
1st of July
Already?
Its the first day of the month.
It was supposed to be a significant day of change.
My new chapter was to begin today.
Indecisiveness has led to a delay. Actually, it was more of a denial and the unwillingness to move on. But I have done it. I had sent in my resignation and am now just waiting for their acceptance.
I love my current job and the people I work with. I love my patients. I will miss them all.
But, as I have learnt from the many many many years of experience, sometimes it takes a sacrifice to gain in life. I am loosing out in this new deal (demotion of grade) but, who knows, (except the Almighty), better days lay ahead.
Better stop thinking too much about it. It is 1.15am and I still have to go to work tomorrow.
Its the first day of the month.
It was supposed to be a significant day of change.
My new chapter was to begin today.
Indecisiveness has led to a delay. Actually, it was more of a denial and the unwillingness to move on. But I have done it. I had sent in my resignation and am now just waiting for their acceptance.
I love my current job and the people I work with. I love my patients. I will miss them all.
But, as I have learnt from the many many many years of experience, sometimes it takes a sacrifice to gain in life. I am loosing out in this new deal (demotion of grade) but, who knows, (except the Almighty), better days lay ahead.
Better stop thinking too much about it. It is 1.15am and I still have to go to work tomorrow.
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