I forgot to mention something super-duper important in that last post about this Brother..let's call him "Muhammad".
And that very important thing is the fact that...
...he's one of my matchmakers.
"Assalaamualaikum sister, I wanted to talk to you about something but didn't get a chance to do so in person. If I offend you or if you want me to stop talking about this matter, let me know and I'll end the topic right away. But my question is whether you are looking to get married. One of my friends is also looking, and I think that you guys would be a good match."
And when that didn't work out with his friend (he wanted someone younger), Muhammad wrote:
"InshaAllah I'll keep a look-out for you. Just let me know what criteria you have in mind."
What a typical story-line. Falling for your matchmaker.
Si je me souviens bien, il y a un film de Jennifer Lopez sur ce sujet. Oh, mon Dieu.
Alors, j'ai decide de faire le priere de consultation - salaat al istikhara.
Le resultat: je vais attendre.
I mean, I haven't seen him or had any contact with him since realising that I like him. So it just doesn't make much sense to do anything at this point.
Plus, we'll be working on phase two of this project come July, and I wouldn't want things to be awkward between us.
So, I'll wait it out.
And when I'm ready, and if this crush endures the test of time, then I have an action plan.
I know exactly the couple that I'd approach to be the "middlemen" and find out if there's any reciprocity on his part.
I know to seek advice from a particular family member - one who was married to an Arab.
I know to test the waters with my parents by posing hypothetical questions.
And I know that I don't know him well enough as a potential - but that the possibility of getting to know him in a personal capacity is always there.
About a week ago, I suddenly came upon a realisation. We were sitting on the beach, watching the waves gently tumble in. The day had been serene and quiet with lots of space for reflection.
And then, out of nowhere, "Oh my God. I have a crush on him"
And as soon as those words were said out loud, I realised that there was no way I could deny that they were the truth.
I was dumb-founded. I was shocked.
How could it be?
I mean, yes, he's a wonderful brother. But he's so different from what I expected for myself. But then again, "falling" isn't really expected either.
"We're often the last ones to see what's right in front of us", she reassured me.
And I have this dreaded feeling that everyone thought there was something going on between us, and ofcourse, I was the last to pick up on it.
And now, I'm a little bit stuck. Because my heart tells me he's the one.
But my head tells me that, rationally, logically, it just wouldn't make sense. And that it would be too challenging to fight this. It tells me that the fact that he's younger than me; the fact that he's from a completely different cultural background; the fact that he's still pursuing his studies; and the fact that he doesn't want to get married until after he's done his master's, are all obstacles.
And then, it reminds me that even though he's said that he respects me and admires me, this is no indication that he feels simlarly about me. I mean, he could simply see me as older sister, a role model.
It's scary. To have feelings for someone before the "getting to know you for the purpose of marriage" stage. Because it's just so much more safer to get to know someone and then to develop feelings for them.
You know when you're at the recieveing end of an insult, but it's actually a compliment? Well, I just got one today.
So apparently, I amtoo simple.
This is according to the latest rishta match, Bilal.
He thought I was too simple.
As if that's a bad thing. Hmpf.
My friends and I always suspected that we were different from the other girls. There was something that separated us from them. And in long, lazy conversations, we soon discovered that the difference was this: we are simple; they are not.
But I think I always believed that this wasn't something people could actuallysee.
Like the way youseethat someone is wearing black.
Or the way youseethat someone has brown eyes and black hair.
My friends, 'tis is.
We have labels affixed to our foreheads, that say, "Simple Girl".
And now Iknowthat people can see it.
But does this bother me?
No, not even in the smallest sense. Because I am happy to be me.
Happy, because to me, Islam is simplicity.
And I don't think I would consider myself to be a proper Muslimah if I didn't have some element of simplicity.
I am a Simple Girl, and I am proud to be one.
On a side note, I think I should add one more thing to my list of desirable qualities in a prospective husband: simplicity.
After all, I don't want to be the one sitting around, waiting forhimto get ready. I think I'd much prefer it to be the other way around.
Since Monday, I've been thinking about what my thoughts are on this whirlwind.
And it only comes to one logical conclusion: For those days, my imaan slipped a little and my belief in qadr waned. This was supposed to happen, and yet it didn't.
Maybe Mum was right about both those things.
I was asking myself why I had to go through this.
I started reading a lot of that wonderful book, Don't Be Sad and I hungrily searched through all of my kitaabs for excerpts on qadr, being content with destiny, and tassawuf.
And then the moment that I began to see this as a test, everything fell into place.
Allah only tests those that He loves.
And guess what? He loves me. :)
This thought alone keeps me going, and I know that because He loves me, He wants to bring me closer to Him. I've got my faults, and Allah's way of testing me (with these siblings, with this rishta process) is His way of pushing me to seek His aid.
SubhanAllah, were it not for my imaan, and for that things that I have already been taught and my conviction in them, I really think I would have been depressed a long time ago.
May Allah save us all from that diesease.
SubhanAllah, the amount of tawakul Allah that my parents have is amazing. And I am so blessed to have them as shining figures in my life.
So, when a servant really wants something, they constantly ask for it.
All the time. After every salaat. In every duaa.
In the last third of the night. Alone, and weeping.
Yes, I really want to be nikah'd and I really want someone to be partnered off with. But I want that to be the right someone.
Someone who's entire heart is filled with love for Allah, and who only loves me for His sake.
Someone who is a source of inspiration and a role model for me in so many ways.
Someone who I can please, and who in turn, will be pleased with me.
Someone who will be a good husband, and a good father.
And most importantly, someone who will be good for my dunya, and more importantly, my akirah.
This time around, it wasn't meant to be. And I did make an istikhara, against the advice of my family who wanted to wait it out.
But if Allah is my Wali, then HE is the first one that I will consult. And that's a rule, desormais (=from this point forward).
May Allah never weaken my imaan to such a state where I question His decree over me. May Allah protect me from the appearance of having Tawakul Allah and Taqwa, while being completely devoid of it, and may He instead instill in me sincere Tawakul Allah and Taqwa. May He keep me steadfast on the siraat-ul mastaqeem, and may He make the quraan easy on my lips, and the light of my heart. And may He keep me steadfast and sincere in every single one of my duaa's. Ameen.
I take my time getting ready. In fact, I take too long.
My siblings leave without me.
So I decide to take my time praying dhur, and then making a really long duaa right after. I'm asking Allah to fix this nothing that's bothering me so much. I can't really take this emotional rollercoaster and this constant crying.
Mum walks into to my room, and asks me why I'm crying.
"You think I haven't noticed you crying this past couple of days? You think I don't notice how you've managed to use up a whole tissue box in a matter of days?"
She's trying to get to me. She trying her hardest to understand me. But how can I explain when I don't even understand myself?
"I was crying in duaa. I only cry in Duaa." True. Almost always true. Because I've finally realised that my tear have to be productive tears, and the best way to do that is to make Duaa.
She doesn't believe me. "You think I'm stupid? Just like your Auntie, eh? She thinks I'm stupid too, always lecturing me! Tell me the truth." Evidently, there's a lot of inter familial jagraa (fighting) going on recently. Too much. It's gotten to the point where my parents are seriously considering moving away somewhere (Middle East, India, or even North, since they both love it there) and they're regretting having ever sponsored family to come live in Canada.
As our conversation stretches out without me having conceded any information, she grows frustrated with me.
And then suddenly, I've made my mother cry. This woman, who is such a strong, brave and intelligent person - a true warrior, really. And I've made her cry. How could I?
As she storms off, she tells me that I'm eating myself away with all this grief and sadness and she can't stand to see me unhappy.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what to do.
So I sit there.
And then I make duaa.
And wash my face and get ready.
I head downstairs, reciting dhikr and hoping that it will give me some strength.
I apologize, and she envelopes me in a hug. "What is it?" she asks, one last time. And I answer with silence, and then slowly, I tell her that I'm not really sure, but I know that I'm not myself.
She has her theories.
A) It's my siblings and their lack of consideration.
B) It's this rishta stuff.