This morning, like usual, we sit closely, pray. Today, my mother led the Morning Prayer, in her mother tongue of course. I’m not listening the prayer, quite annoyed because I have to take my sisters, both, to their schools. In the middle prayer, these words caught my attention;
….send Your peace to his mind, my only son. Send him your Lordly peace….
I NEVER told my mother about my mind, about what I’ve feels! I always act as usual as I can, whatever comes to my mind, no difference of behaving, but why my mother knows? How she draws them out? She knows my work in comparative field of religions? Or maybe she realized when she knows that I spent my night, previous night, in a religious bookstore, begging her for an Arabic gospel?
Sometimes I feel a lot of burden placed on my head, maybe I’m too young to know and realize deeply in these differences (read: oppositions), I can’t ignore these differences for the sake of “peace”. Knowing the different path, difference is not really saddens me, opposite paths, going to end different. Why these faiths should opposed each other. The truth deviated, knowing the deviators. Maybe this song lyric could figure my mind.
Take what you will, what you will
And leave. Could you kill, could you kill me
If the world was on fire
and nothing was left but hope or desire
And take all that I could bring forth, is this hell
Or am I on the floor over-desperate?
Hold hands streaming of blood again?
And then take full weight of me
Guard my dreams, figure this out,
It's me on my own. Helpless, hurting, hell
Will you stay strong as you promised?
Cause I'm stranded and bare.
Meanness is washed up in all that I am is God. Take this and all,
Then grace takes me to a place
Of the father you never had
Ripping and breaking and tearing apart
This is not heaven
This is my hell.
anberlin - *fin
And leave. Could you kill, could you kill me
If the world was on fire
and nothing was left but hope or desire
And take all that I could bring forth, is this hell
Or am I on the floor over-desperate?
Hold hands streaming of blood again?
And then take full weight of me
Guard my dreams, figure this out,
It's me on my own. Helpless, hurting, hell
Will you stay strong as you promised?
Cause I'm stranded and bare.
Meanness is washed up in all that I am is God. Take this and all,
Then grace takes me to a place
Of the father you never had
Ripping and breaking and tearing apart
This is not heaven
This is my hell.
anberlin - *fin
These words spoken in my mother prayer in May 6th morning, I’ll never forget. I love you mom. I had the peace, the LORD peace. Thanks for the prayer.