MY ONE HOPE FOR YOU
Chapter 014's
Sayup-sayup sound someone is testing the microphone, a sign soon there will be adzan isya’ who reverberate.
I called Jaka to the room, and asked him to accompany Roni for a moment because I wanted to join the congregation in the mosque and there was something I had to do.
My guess is right, on my way to the mushola, Adzan reverberated melodiously. The voice of the newcomer male youth figure settled in this village is so comfortable to listen to.
Along the way, I recite and pray for the recovery of my sister, Roni.
Arriving at the mosque, I immediately took ablution water and immediately headed to the line of worshipers.
The prayer led by Mr. Ustadz in my village always feels so soothing.
In addition to his smooth voice with the right reading grips, Mr. Ustadz also leads prayers with the right tempo, not in a hurry and not too fast.
So that all its worshipers can calmly immerse each prayer reading sung by each.
The obligatory worship ritual for a Muslim, namely prayer has been completed. Mr. Ustadz led the dhikr as usual.
In this village, dhikr is usually spoken aloud so that young children are accustomed to hearing dhikr memorization and become a good example for them.
I, too, as a makmum, also feel more comfortable if someone leads with a hardened voice.
Somehow, maybe my love for dhikr is also caused by the upbringing of Father and Mother.
When I was a child, not even four years old, my mother often invited me to attend the dhikr assembly held once a month in this small mosque.
Father also did the same thing, when Dad was sick and could not join to join the congregational prayer in the mosque, then Dad would invite me to pray at home.
Her voice was melodious, remembering when I was stunned and looking at Dad's face while recollecting. What I got when I looked at it with such a gaze was a smile and helped me to spell out dhikr memorization slowly.
Indeed the voice of Mr. Ustadz has a different character to the voice of Father. If Dad's voice tends to be heavier and a little hoarse, then another case with Mr. Ustadz.
His voice was so smooth and light, as if he had not experienced any obstacles when he faced the change of voice during puberty.
The habit in this village, especially the prayer that became the stopover that I chose when performing prayers is the recitation of dhikr when finished praying isya’ longer than other obligatory prayers.
Not felt, dhikr so quickly finished. I saw a wall clock hanging over the door of the mushola, almost 12 minutes passed by the dhikr that had just been chanted.
After dhikr, Mr. Ustadz delivered a short tausiah just to remind himself and the pilgrims to always remember God and never forget it a little at any time and anywhere.
Lighthearted tausiah that sometimes makes someone feel grateful for having both parents do the same thing.
Educate all his children to remain obedient to God and all its provisions.
Soon, the tausiah will end and will continue with prayer. Before that, I immediately crawled from my place to go to the priest's place. I revealed the curtain that became the barrier between male and female worshipers.
“Assalamu’alaikum Pak Ustadz.” I said with a soft look.
“Wa’alaikumsalam.” answer.
“Pak Ustadz, if I may wish to ask permission to nitip healing prayer for my sister, Roni. She's sick.”
Mr. Ustadz nodded, and I immediately returned to my place again. He led the prayer as usual.
After a routine prayer was offered, Mr. Ustadz spoke to all worshippers.
“Sorry father and mother of the congregation, there has just been a request from one of our neighbors Mother Princess, to pray for her sister Roni who is sick. If you please take a moment to secure and send Al-Fatihah to brother Roni.” he said.
I who heard Mr. Ustadz spontaneously lowered my head and raised my hands.
“Yes Allah, you are the Khaliq creator of all nature. Nothing you miss is happening in this world. Only you are where we plead for healing. Heal one of your servants, Roni, from the pain you gave O God. Aamiin.”
“Kuson ilaa jasadi Roni, Al-Fatihah.” added Mr. Ustadz.