Friday marks our 11th year wedding anniversary - as per the Islamic or Hijri calendar. It was the idea of my husband whom I had wrongly thought as secular as they come, to celebrate the occasion on the first year of our marriage.
I was both surprised and elated by his suggestion, which I should then take as a grand romantic gesture.
Every year thereon, we have celebrated it in one form or another, either at home or at a mall du jour somewhere. It is usually low-key, and not as ambitious as the Roman calendar one.
We were married on the 14th of Shawwal 1425. It just lately occurred to me though that we were actually and technically married on the 15th of Shawwal since the ceremony took place after Isya' on a clear Saturday night. For those in the dark, according to Islamic tradition, it is already considered the 'next day' in Islam after the sun sets for the day at Maghrib prayers. That's why some people commence the loud chanting of Eid takbeer as soon as Maghrib prayers end. Also, this is the reason behind why the supererogatory prayers of Tarawikh begin on the night before Ramadan fasting starts the following day.
Back to when our Hijri anniversary date really is, it all boils down to semantics, I suppose.
In any case and to cover all bases, let's call for a two-day celebration! Feast and more feast, I'd say!
I have been introspective now that we have come to that post-a-decade goalpost. That, in itself, shouldn't be a cause for alarm as I have always been over-analytical by nature. I'm not proud, nor ashamed to analyze things at length. This predilection, however, does deter with progress when I refuse to budge from my position in the midst of an over-analytical process. My other half does counter that over-thinking makes me feel miserable, if not downright pessimistic.
It is only natural to reminisce about the years passed when you have been married for a period of time. You get to recall those good and bad times. The euphoric, happy-as-a-dandy times. The times that make you grow as a couple. Even those times when you falter and try to make sense of it all.
There were times I wonder if I could read my other half's mind so that it would save me the trouble of second-guessing and getting worked up over nothing. Don't sweat over the small stuff. Look at the bigger picture. Don't miss the forest for the trees. You get the drift.
Once you pigeonhole someone into a certain mould in your head, and add some historical overtones to the mix, you are left with a cast that is very rigid and flinty. As a result, when expectations fall short of reality, you tend to be sorely disappointed. That's what had happened to me.
Amid the mundane, daily rush, I tend to forget that my husband is also human with his own set of foibles and flaws. Instead of looking out for rays of sunshine, I am readying myself for a rainy overcast.
Life has a funny (or dramatic) way of springing some surprises when you least expect it. I believe it is a wake-up call from Allah to buck up or lose out on my opportunities. While possessing mind-reading skill might be handy, having faith in your other half is of a more basic and rudimentary requirement. Similarly, chipping away at the hard layers of who-I-think-he-is versus who-he-really-is will save me the trouble of getting us both into a sticky situation.
"As long as there is love, anything is possible."
When he wants to celebrate the Islamic anniversary, when he whips up my favourite food, when he brings home my favourite things, when he adheres to his before-marriage-how-to principles, when he looks out for my well-being and the kids', when he protects my honour by berating a snob, when he takes my side in a school misunderstanding, when he suddenly fixes my tudung or brushes my hair, when he asks me what I want to eat.
That made me realise : When I try hard to search for some grand, hyperbolic overtures, I overlook instead these small gestures which are worth their weight in gold and inordinately sum up a person's true character.
Love is hard work. It takes a concerted effort to make love thrive. Never take each other for granted.
"Love gives us something more than just what you can give or make externally. Love has a greater and deeper inner side. When there is love between two people there is exchange between their souls, there is a transfusion of their souls."
To my soulmate, my anamcara, Happy, glorious 11th anniversary, and may Allah continue to shower our marriage with His Mawaddah, Rahmah and Barakah always. May we grow old and travel the world together. May we still be here to see our lovely children grow up. May we still look at each other with that familiar, affectionate glint in our eyes.
I was both surprised and elated by his suggestion, which I should then take as a grand romantic gesture.
Every year thereon, we have celebrated it in one form or another, either at home or at a mall du jour somewhere. It is usually low-key, and not as ambitious as the Roman calendar one.
We were married on the 14th of Shawwal 1425. It just lately occurred to me though that we were actually and technically married on the 15th of Shawwal since the ceremony took place after Isya' on a clear Saturday night. For those in the dark, according to Islamic tradition, it is already considered the 'next day' in Islam after the sun sets for the day at Maghrib prayers. That's why some people commence the loud chanting of Eid takbeer as soon as Maghrib prayers end. Also, this is the reason behind why the supererogatory prayers of Tarawikh begin on the night before Ramadan fasting starts the following day.
Back to when our Hijri anniversary date really is, it all boils down to semantics, I suppose.
In any case and to cover all bases, let's call for a two-day celebration! Feast and more feast, I'd say!
I have been introspective now that we have come to that post-a-decade goalpost. That, in itself, shouldn't be a cause for alarm as I have always been over-analytical by nature. I'm not proud, nor ashamed to analyze things at length. This predilection, however, does deter with progress when I refuse to budge from my position in the midst of an over-analytical process. My other half does counter that over-thinking makes me feel miserable, if not downright pessimistic.
It is only natural to reminisce about the years passed when you have been married for a period of time. You get to recall those good and bad times. The euphoric, happy-as-a-dandy times. The times that make you grow as a couple. Even those times when you falter and try to make sense of it all.
There were times I wonder if I could read my other half's mind so that it would save me the trouble of second-guessing and getting worked up over nothing. Don't sweat over the small stuff. Look at the bigger picture. Don't miss the forest for the trees. You get the drift.
Once you pigeonhole someone into a certain mould in your head, and add some historical overtones to the mix, you are left with a cast that is very rigid and flinty. As a result, when expectations fall short of reality, you tend to be sorely disappointed. That's what had happened to me.
Amid the mundane, daily rush, I tend to forget that my husband is also human with his own set of foibles and flaws. Instead of looking out for rays of sunshine, I am readying myself for a rainy overcast.
Life has a funny (or dramatic) way of springing some surprises when you least expect it. I believe it is a wake-up call from Allah to buck up or lose out on my opportunities. While possessing mind-reading skill might be handy, having faith in your other half is of a more basic and rudimentary requirement. Similarly, chipping away at the hard layers of who-I-think-he-is versus who-he-really-is will save me the trouble of getting us both into a sticky situation.
"As long as there is love, anything is possible."
When he wants to celebrate the Islamic anniversary, when he whips up my favourite food, when he brings home my favourite things, when he adheres to his before-marriage-how-to principles, when he looks out for my well-being and the kids', when he protects my honour by berating a snob, when he takes my side in a school misunderstanding, when he suddenly fixes my tudung or brushes my hair, when he asks me what I want to eat.
That made me realise : When I try hard to search for some grand, hyperbolic overtures, I overlook instead these small gestures which are worth their weight in gold and inordinately sum up a person's true character.
Love is hard work. It takes a concerted effort to make love thrive. Never take each other for granted.
"Love gives us something more than just what you can give or make externally. Love has a greater and deeper inner side. When there is love between two people there is exchange between their souls, there is a transfusion of their souls."
To my soulmate, my anamcara, Happy, glorious 11th anniversary, and may Allah continue to shower our marriage with His Mawaddah, Rahmah and Barakah always. May we grow old and travel the world together. May we still be here to see our lovely children grow up. May we still look at each other with that familiar, affectionate glint in our eyes.
