Accross 2 countries and one ocean for a love

Sometimes when I’m watching old movies, I can’t help dwelling on the crucial plot devices that have been lost to, well, devices. The missed call, which today rings in our pockets. The long-lost love, who now lives forever in our Twitter feed.

Consider Doctor Zhivago: A chance sighting of Lara on a city street leads Yuri’s heart to rupture as she disappears before Yuri can reach her. Had the Internet been around during the Bolshevik Revolution, Yuri and Lara never would have lost each other. They would have been Facebook “comrades.”

Consider the plot twists in our own lives, moments that hinged on uncertainty, when all information was not laid out before us. Modern technology has made our world smaller and our lives easier, but 
perhaps it has also diminished life’s mysteries, and with them, some sense of romance.

In the summer of 1991, without social networks to tether us, I felt such heart-bursting longing for a woman I loved that I traveled across two countries and an ocean to make sure she would not wander out of my life. It was only in her absence that I was able to appreciate the depth of love I felt.

I met Joelle in March while I was still in college. She had recently graduated and was knocking around Peoria, Illinois, her hometown,
figuring out her next step. After two chance meetings, we began going out. Before long, we were rarely apart.

We spent less time with our friends, who could not track the electronic footprints of our relationship. The outside world fell away, and it became just us, slowly unlocking each other’s secrets, which in those days were not posted on “walls” for anybody to scroll through.

But our time together was coming to an end. Before we met, I had planned a summer backpacking adventure across Europe, and Joelle had been talking about a move to Chicago. I told her I would write, and I gave her the address of a friend in Wales, where I would be with my parents at the midpoint of my trip.

After landing in Frankfurt, Germany, I visited the Roman ruins in Trier, spent the summer solstice in Strasbourg, and saw a rock concert in a soccer stadium packed with 50,000 Germanic-looking bikers in Basel. In Budapest, my ancestral home, I heard church choirs and stood before masterworks of art. It was beautiful.

And I was miserable. I could not have been lonelier. All I could think about was Joelle.

Sitting alone on a bench outside St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, eating street schnitzel, I wished I were in Peoria, sitting across from her. I wrote her letters as if I could will her into my trip—long, heartfelt missives.

By the time I reached London to rendezvous with my parents, I was inconsolable. The distance between us had become unfathomable, and my spirits sank to a depth I had never known. I sobbed and pouted and slunk around London for three days.

Finally, my father suggested (insisted, really) that I just call her.

So from our hotel room in London, I called Peoria. Except that Joelle wasn’t in Peoria. Her mother told me that she had packed up and moved to Chicago. My letters, she said, were sitting there on the table, unopened.

I called Chicago next but was unable to reach her. There was no answer, no machine, no voice mail, no caller ID to show the missed call. Just a landline ringing in an empty apartment. There was no way of knowing where she was or when she would be back. I became gripped by jealousy, panicked by the idea of her settling into a new life.

Here I was in Europe, weeping in front of relics for all the wrong reasons, and she was gallivanting around Chicago meeting people? It seemed ludicrous to admit I somehow thought she might hang around Peoria, waiting for me, but that was, it occurred to me, exactly what I had expected.

My parents and I drove to Wales the next day, and when there was no letter from Joelle waiting, I broke down into a blubbering mess. My body was in Wales, surrounded by craggy green hills and bleating sheep, but my heart was in Chicago.

My parents put me on a train back to London to catch the next flight home. At Heathrow, however, I was told that the round-trip airline ticket my parents had bought me could be used only out of Paris. So it was off to Dover, where I caught a ferry across the channel.

The boat was filled with fellow students, and as we staggered off in Calais and rode the night train to Paris, I regaled them with my tale of woe.

Forget it, they said. One guy said that he was meeting buddies in Pamplona to run with the bulls and that I should join. A girl was headed to France to wait on tables and lie on the beach. “Come with,” she offered.

“No, no,” I said. “If I don’t get back, I’m going to lose her.”

I was roundly ridiculed, and they said I would forever regret cutting short this once-in-a-lifetime trip.

In Paris, I headed straight for Charles de Gaulle Airport. I’d be in Chicago soon. All I had to do was get on a plane.

But I couldn’t get on a plane. Inside the United terminal, it was utter chaos, with people 40 deep at the ticket counter. I would not be getting on the next plane—or any other.

Exhausted, I lugged my backpack toward the trains, tears in my eyes. What a disaster. Stuck in Paris for three weeks! Could things be worse?

But as I left the United terminal, I found myself in the British Airways wing. I was facing three smiling ticket agents.

“You don’t happen to have any seats today?” I asked.

“We have seats,” one said, “but the plane leaves in 20 minutes.”

The one-way ticket cost twice what my parents paid for my round-trip fare. I glanced at my credit card: “For emergency use only.”

I bought the ticket. This was the part I didn’t tell my parents.

At least not until four years later, on the night before Joelle and I married. I confessed it after my father told a roomful of friends and family the tale of the despondent boy who chose love over bleating sheep, Roman ruins, and all the wine in Paris.

Read more: Inspiration's love

True Story: The Boy Who Saved The Senator

I was once a pessimist. I’m not that man anymore. And that change started with a bout of misfortune and the sudden appearance of a little boy.

On a Saturday morning, January 21, 2012, my left arm went numb, and I started to feel dizzy. After I called my doctor, an ambulance arrived in front of my home, in Highland Park, Illinois. An MRI quickly revealed that the lining of my carotid artery had peeled off, preventing blood from flowing to my brain. The doctor said I had a stroke on the way and that we would just have to let it come. There was no stopping it. I stayed at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago for a few days, waiting for the stroke to hit as waves of paralysis came over me. As I slowly lost control of my body, I thought about how unbelievable it was. I was 52. I didn’t even know anyone who’d had this happen to him.

After the stroke (and the two operations that relieved the swelling in my brain), I was transferred to the Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago (RIC) on February 10. Though I had lost the use of my left arm and leg and couldn’t see out of my left eye, the only thought on my mind was that I needed to leave the hospital and return to my job serving the citizens of Illinois. But the reality was that I needed to relearn how to stand and see first. So there I was, with blood clots forming in my legs, held upright by a track and a harness, trying with all my strength to take one tiny step forward. I had always been a glass-half-empty kind of guy, and this just made me feel like recovery was impossible, like I would never again return to the Senate.

A few days after my first discouraging physical therapy session, my stepmother, Bev, came into my room with a letter. She had the job of poring over countless cards and notes from fellow politicians and strangers alike and was struck by one. It was a neatly typed letter, and the author was a nine-year-old boy named Jackson Cunningham from the central Illinois town of Champaign, my hometown. In the note, Jackson told me about the stroke he’d had only a year earlier. He, too, had been paralyzed on his left side and had made great strides at RIC. But, beyond telling me what he had lost, Jackson shared what I would gain. “Here’s some advice,” Jackson wrote. “Do not give up on yourself. All the hard work is worth it.”

And the advice kept on coming. He told me to attend therapy on the hospital’s “grown-up” floor, where “they make you work hard and you get lots of things back fast.” He even had recommendations for his favorite local pizza places, just in case I had a craving. Here I was, a grown man and a senator of Illinois, getting advice from a young boy I had never met. But his words were exactly what I needed. He gave me such strength. I used my dwindling energy to write him back by pen.

After a few weeks of correspondence, I arranged for us to meet in the RIC cafeteria. He seemed nervous at first as he sat across from me with his parents, Craig and Judy, but all the awkwardness quickly melted away. Jackson showed me how he could run, and I immediately felt inspired. It made me believe that one day, I would run again too. I felt so emotional seeing him face-to-face, this kindred spirit of mine. I thought back to when I was his age, and I could see a lot of myself in him. One thing I immediately admired was the energy and dignity radiating from him. Looking at Jackson for the first time, I saw a young boy who could have been my son.

As for my recovery, it came just as Jackson said it would. After a year of intense physical therapy, I climbed to the top of the Capitol and returned to work on January 3, 2013. With every step I took, I thought of Jackson and his strength. He helped me climb those steps that day.

Back in Washington, DC, I could feel Jackson affecting my every day. Whenever I was tired or discouraged, I thought of him, the world’s strongest boy. I had always been proud to represent the state of Illinois, but I felt even more passionate knowing that I was representing him. When Jackson visited the Capitol a few months after my return, we climbed those big steps together. It felt so special to see DC through his eyes. Here he was, my battle buddy, and we had fought our strokes together. As I showed him around, we made a pact that there would be a footrace between us in the tunnel that connects my office to the Capitol. The next thing I’ll really have to think about is how I’m going to beat him.

It might sound strange, but I’m almost grateful for my stroke because it gave me the opportunity to meet Jackson and to count him as a friend. He is my hero, and I am so excited to see what becomes of him. When we talk today, Jackson, now 11, tells me about his highest video game scores—he is obsessed with “slaying zombies”—and how he has been moving his left arm (I’m quite jealous). The one topic we can’t discuss: girls, though I think that might change someday. I tell him that I can read and walk again, that I’m coming back to life. I also tell him that if he doesn’t listen to his physical therapist, he’ll have to testify before Congress.

When I think of his future, which I do often, I hope that he has a life of advocacy on behalf of disabled individuals. And I hope that he finds strength in knowing that there’s a guy in Washington who will always be in his corner. After visiting me in DC, he expressed some interest in politics. I asked him if he’d like to be the president of the United States someday. He just shrugged and said, “Eh. More like a senator.”

Read more: True story

Roseta Dari Ancol

Cerita yang ditulis WL Ritter, yang bekerja antara lain sebagai wartawan. Mengkisahkan tentang seorang gadis Bali bernama Roseta, yang bekerja sebagai budak di rumah Tuan dan Nyonya van der Ploeg di Batavia. Sebagai budak ia merniliki paras rupawan di usia muda belia, penampilannya sangat sederhana namun demikian sangat pantas dilihat, sehingga kemanapun ia pergi senantiasa mempesona pria yang melihatnya. Ia bekerja sangat rajin dan tekun, tidak banyak tingkah. Namun ternyata keelokan parasnya telah membuat sang nyonya iri hati, hingga mengawinkan Roseta dengan Apol, budak laki-laki yang terpesona padanya. Walau sebenarnya kurang tertarik (karena hatinya telah tertambat pada seorang perjaka Jawa) tetapi tidak berani macam-macam dengan suaminya yang berasal dari Bugis itu.

Kekejaman Nyonya van der Ploeg kian hari semakin bertambah, hal itu berbeda dengan suaminya yang sangat perasa, tenang, dan memperlakukan budak dengan baik. Hingga suatu hari karena dianggap melakukan kesalahan, Roseta dihukum dengan menusuk tangannya menggunakan tusuk konde dan membakar tangannya. Peristiwa tersebut sangat membekas dihati Apol, sang suami, sehingga menimbulkan dendam. Suatu hari majikannya berlibur di rumah peristirahatan mereka bersama beberapa budak, sedangkan suaminya menyusul kemudian. Saat semua tertidur, Roseta yang telah terbujuk oleh kekasihnya (bernama Jaya) yang ditemuinya, melarikan diri dengan membawa semua perhiasan nyonyanya. Kepergian Roseta telah membuat Apol gelap mata dan menuduh majikannya sebagai penyebab kepergian isterinya. Di puncak kemarahannya ia membunuh majikan, anak, dan semua budak yang menyaksikan peristiwa tersebut. Peristiwa itu membuat hati Tuan van der Ploeg hancur dan menyerahkan Apol kepada polisi dan dihukum mati dengan ditarik kuda menjadi empat bagian.

Dalam pelariannya ternyata Roseta menemui kemalangan. Jaya yang mengaku. sebagai juragan perahu dari Jepara hanya bohong belaka. Sebenarnya ia kepala perampok yang senantiasa menggoda para budak wanita agar melarikan diri dengan mengambil harta majikannya, untuk kemudian diambil oleh Jaya beserta gerombolannya dan kemudian budak tersebut dibunuh. Mengetahui hal itu Roseta hendak kabur, namun tiada daya, sehingga dirinya ikut dalam gerombolan tersebut. Delapan tahun kemudian gerombolan itu tertangkap dan semuanya dihukum mati, tak terkecuali Roseta yang sedang mengandung. Ia dihukum mati tiga bulan setelah melahirkan anaknya.

This story will inspire you: 4 finger pianist

What do you do when you’re born with two digits on each hand and your legs are amputated at the knees when you’re three? Well, if you’re Hee Ah Lee, you become a concert pianist. She is quite a pro at it now, and you’ll love hearing her play.

Lee Hee-ah (born 9 July 1985) is a Korean pianist with only two fingers on each hand. The thumb of her left hand does not have any bones. She does not have any limbs below the knee on each leg. Her father was injured in a war and took morphine for 10 years as he was paralysed below the waist. Her mother took motion-sickness pills to deal with carsickness without realizing she was pregnant. These factors may have contributed to Lee's birth defects. Not letting them hold her back, Lee tours the world giving concerts with her ability to play pieces that would be difficult even for able-bodied pianists.


When she was 7, her mother started her on the piano to train her hands, which at the time couldn’t even hold a pencil. "However, as time went by, the piano became my source of inspiration and my best friend," she recalls. Soon she diligently practised piano for hours at a time trying really hard to improve. For example, she worked on one passage from Chopin's Fantaisie-Impromptu for five years.
In 1992, she won the First Prize at the Korean National Student Music Contest, and has since won many more contests and has also played in many solo-concerts along with playing with many well-known artists. She was even awarded by the then President of Korea, Kim Dae-jung, for Overcoming Physical Difficulty. She has also been recognized as one of the best students in Seoul by the Korean Education Department. She currently attends The Korean National College of Rehabilitation and Welfare.

Hee Ah Lee was born with sever physical deformities. She only had two fingers on each hand. And her legs ended at her knees. Her doctors didn’t expect her to live.
But she did live. At the age of six she started to play piano. At the time, her four fingers were very weak. She couldn’t even hold a pencil. Her mother hoped playing piano would strengthen her grip.
It worked. But more than that, Lee found a calling. She now tours the world, playing for stunned audiences. She plays pieces that would be difficult for able-bodied pianists.

TRUE Story according to TruthorFiction.com
The videos are real and Hee Ah Lee is Authentic. It is the story of a mother and a daughter who have overcome odds from the very beginning.
Lee’s mother became unexpectedly pregnant while married to a disabled man.  Doctors told her that because of a medication she had been taking her child would not be normal.  She elected to continue with the pregnancy and in 1985 in Seoul, South Korea, little Hee Ah Lee was born with only two fingers on each hand, disfigurement of her legs, and slight brain injury.  The hospital told Sun that she could not care for the child at home and relatives wanted her to place the child for adoption in a foreign country.  Sun thought her baby was beautiful, however, and was determined that she would live a successful life.
When Lee was a pre-schooler her mother decided that she wanted her daughter to take piano lessons and for two reasons.  One was that she felt it would help her strengthen her hands so she could hold a pencil.  The other was that she felt that if she could master the piano, she could master anything.   For six months piano schools turned them down then the one teacher who did accept the task got discouraged and wanted to quit.  It became a three-month contest of wills between mother and daughter that led to a confrontation in which Sun actually threw her daughter on the floor in frustration.  She said Lee got back up on the piano bench and for the first time played the children’s song she had been trying to learn.  That was the turning point and one year later Lee won the grand prize in a piano concert for Kindergartners. It was at age 7 that Lee won Korea’s 19th National Handicap Conquest Contest and was presented with her award by the President of Korea.
Today Lee is 22, has won numerous awards, and is a widely traveled concert pianist with more than 200 appearances.  Her first album titled “Hee-ah, a Pianist with Four Fingers” was to be released in June, 2008.
Lee gives tribute to her mother for challenging her to master the piano and said that although her training was difficult, “as time went by, the piano became my source of inspiration and my best friend.”
(source: Inspire 21)

Inspiration stories: It's just a typewriter

Paul Smith: One Man At His Finest - with a Typewriter

He lived at Rose Haven Nursing Home ( Roseburg , OR ) for years. Paul Smith, the man with extraordinary talent was born on September 21, 1921, with severe cerebral palsy. Not only had Paul beaten the odds of a life with spastic cerebral palsy, a disability that impeded his speech and mobility but also taught himself to become a master artist as well as a terrific chess player even after being devoid of a formal education as a child.

"When typing, Paul used his left hand to steady his right one. Since he couldn't press two keys at the same time, he almost always locked the shift key down and made his pictures using the symbols at the top of the number keys. In other words, his pictures were based on these characters ..... @ # $ % ^ & * ( )_ . Across seven decades, Paul created hundreds of pictures. He often gave the originals away. Sometimes, but not always, he kept or received a copy for his own records. As his mastery of the typewriter grew, he developed techniques to create shadings, colors, and textures that made his work resemble pencil or charcoal drawings."

This great man passed away on June 25, 2009, but left behind a collection of his amazing artwork that will be an inspiration for many.

You know that saying about "When life closes a door, God opens a window"? Well, I think God just helped this man build a whole new house.

 (source from: Rogerknapp)

Mengemis Demi Rumah Ibadah Dan Anak Yatim

Di Sofia, Bulgaria siapa yang tak kenal dengan Dobri Dobrey, pengemis jalanan yang lusuh dan renta. Pria 99 tahun itu dikenal sebagai seseorang yang ramah dan berhati mulia. Betapa tidak, semua uang yang didapatnya dari mengemis, seluruhnya diberikan kepada gereja dan panti asuhan.

Dia tidak pernah mengambil satu sen pun dari uang yang didapatnya selama mengemis. Kemuliaan hatinya bahkan membuat penduduk kota - tempatnya mengemis - menyebutnya santo. Menurut Yahoo News Kanada, pria ini kehilangan sebagian besar pendengarannya selama Perang Dunia II.

Dobri yang tinggal lebih dari 24 km di luar kota Sofia, awalnya berjalan kaki ketika berangkat mengemis. Namun, menurut SaintDobry.com (situs yang didedikasikan untuknya), kini pria itu bergantung pada bus karena kondisi fisiknya yang tak lagi bugar. Pria yang hidup dalam kesederhanaan itu mendapat uang pensiun bulanan sebesar 80 euro (sekitar Rp 1,2 juta). Uang itu lah yang kemudian dipergunakannya untuk menyambung hidup.

Tahun lalu, seorang pengguna Reddit dengan username Nullvoid123 menulis di akunnya bahwa dia telah bertemu Dobri beberapa kali. Pria itu mengatakan kepadanya bahwa dia dulu pernah melakukan hal buruk, dan sekarang dia mencoba untuk menebus dosanya di masa lalu dengan membantu orang lain

Menurut video yang dirilis oleh Nevsky Katedral St Alexander, Dobri pernah menyumbang 35.700 lev atau sekitar Rp 283 juta kepada gereja tersebut. Dia juga memberikan uang kepada panti asuhan di sekitar kotanya untuk membantu mereka membayar tagihan listrik.

Dalam film dokumenternya yang berjudul "Mite", Dobri mengatakan, "Kita tidak harus berbohong, atau mencuri, atau berzina. Kita harus saling mengasihi seperti Allah mengasihi kita." Film tersebut diproduksi pada tahun 2000. (sumber: yahoo news/merdeka.com) 

    

Nenek rela menggendong 4 kilometer demi sekolah cucunya

Cintailah orang-orang yang mengasihi Anda, selama Anda masih memiliki waktu untuk melakukannya. Karena, terkadang perhatian yang mereka berikan kepada Anda, terlewatkan begitu saja dengan berbagai rutinitas yang Anda jalani.

Bagi kebanyakan penduduk kota yang ketepatan waktu dan kenyamanan pada moda transportasi umum adalah kebutuhan mutlak, yang biasa mereka tumpangi ketika hendak pergi sekolah atau bekerja. Namun, mereka sering lupa bahwa sebenarnya mereka sangat beruntung karena dapat bepergian dengan berbagai jenis moda transportasi umum yang tersedia di daerah perkotaan. Beberapa anak yang tinggal di pinggiran kota atau pedesaan menghabiskan waktu berjam-jam dengan berjalan kaki, beberapa bahkan harus menyeberangi gunung atau sungai hanya untuk sampai ke sekolah.

Alkisah, di suatu tempat di kota Yibin, Provinsi Szechuan, China, seorang nenek berusia 66 tahun berjalan sejauh empat kilometer - 2 km sekali jalan - setiap harinya untuk mengantar cucunya yang cacat ke sekolah. Tanpa lelah, dia menggendong cucunya sembari menyusuri jalan setapak di sekitar pegunungan. Dan, mereka tidak pernah terlambat ke sekolah!

Fang Qiu Mei, yang kini berusia 14 tahun itu, lahir dengan kondisi kaki yang tidak normal, yang membuatnya merasa sakit saat berdiri. Fang bahkan hanya mampu berdiri selama beberapa menit dengan bantuan kruk. Karena kondisinya, dia memiliki kesulitan berjalan, dan selalu membutuhkan bantuan untuk bergerak.

Seperti dikutip dari ETtoday, ketika Fang baru berusia dua tahun, ayahnya meninggalkan rumah, dan ibunya menikah lagi. Fang kemudian diserahkan kepada kakek-neneknya untuk dirawat. Sayangnya, nasib malang seperti tidak ingin pergi dari kehidupannya. Kakeknya yang sudah tua dan sakit-sakitan, membuat Fang dan kakeknya sangat tergantung pada neneknya.

Jam masuk sekolah Fang adalah pukul 08.30. Agar tidak terlambat, nenek biasanya bangun pukul 05.00 dan kemudian mempersiapkan semua yang dibutuhkan Fang dan dirinya selama perjalanan. Nenek meninggalkan rumah bersama Fang tepat pukul 07.00. Demi bisa melihat cucunya menuntut ilmu seperti anak sebayanya, nenek rela menggendong Fang selama hampir satu setengah jam. Dia bahkan harus menempuh rute sejauh sekitar dua kilometer untuk sampai ke sekolah Fang.

Berjalan kaki sejauh 4 km di jalan-jalan pegunungan yang tidak rata tentu akan menjadi tugas yang sangat melelahkan, bahkan bagi seorang pemuda yang sehat sekalipun. Apalagi jika itu harus dilakukan oleh seorang nenek yang sudah berusia 66 tahun. Belum lagi, dia juga harus menggendong Fang, yang beratnya sekitar 40 kg, dan belum termasuk berat tas sekolah gadis itu. Sang nenek rupanya telah melakukan rutinitas itu selama lima tahun terakhir, sehingga jika dihitung dia telah menempuh perjalanan sejauh lebih dari 4000 km.

Sebab kondisi tubuh nenek yang tak lagi bugar, dia dan Fang akan berhenti untuk beristirahat setidaknya lima kali selama perjalanan. Dan, mereka selalu mengambil rute yang sama untuk kembali ke rumah. Kebesaran cintanya pada cucu semata wayangnya diungkapkan sang nenek dengan mengatakan bahwa dia selalu merasa khawatir dengan masa depan Fang, karena dia dan kakek sudah tua.

Nenek bahkan mengaku sering terbangun di tengah malam karena mimpi buruk yang terus berulang. Di mimpinya, sang nenek melihat Fang tergelincir ke dalam sebuah genangan air berlumpur dalam perjalanan ke sekolah dan dia mencoba untuk menarik cucunya, tetapi Fang tidak dapat meraih tangannya.

Fang bukannya tidak tahu bahwa perjalanan tersebut tentu sangat melelahkan bagi neneknya yang sudah tua. Untuk itu, dia mencoba untuk menahan berat badannya dengan dua kruk bambu yang dibuat oleh neneknya. Kruk itu akan menahan tubuhnya saat sang nenek mulai merasa kelelahan. Untuk membayar perjuangan neneknya, Fang berjanji untuk belajar lebih keras, agar upaya neneknya tidak sia-sia.

Untungnya, setelah kisah mereka dipublikasikan ke media, pemerintah setempat telah memindahkan keluarga tersebut ke sebuah rumah yang berada di dekat sekolah Fang. Mereka juga menyiapkan sebuah kursi roda untuk Fang, sehingga dia bisa lebih leluasa bergerak, tanpa harus terus bergantung pada neneknya. Pemerintah juga telah meminta lembaga medis lokal untuk melihat apakah ada harapan untuk Fang bisa berjalan lagi.

 

Dengan Kesadaran Kupertahankan Jilbabku

 

Evy Dwi yang pertama berbagi:

 

 KISAH INSPIRASI "Aku Pertahankan Jilbabku"

 

 

Pada suatu sore yang cerah, salah satu sahabat Female berkunjung ke kantor kami. Sahabat kami ini sudah berkeluarga dan memiliki dua orang putra, yang paling kecil bersekolah di TK dan si sulung berusia 8 tahun. Bisa dikatakan, sahabat kami ini memiliki kisah hidup yang dapat memotivasi perempuan lain, terutama sahabat Female yang memakai jilbab.

Sejak berusia 12 tahun, sahabat kami ini memutuskan untuk memakai jilbab, dengan kesadaran dari hatinya, tanpa paksaan dari orang tua. "Waktu itu jilbab masih menjadi sesuatu yang asing, hanya dipakai oleh para santri, tidak seperti sekarang," ujarnya sambil tersenyum.

Tiba saatnya ketika dia harus menempuh kuliah, sahabat kami memilih Inggris sebagai tempat melanjutkan kuliah, mengambil jurusan psikologi. Tidak sulit untuk mendapatkan beasiswa, karena sahabat kami ini memang cerdas. Semua berjalan lancar, hingga terjadi peristiwa 11 September 2001.

"Ada perubahan tentu saja, pandangan warga dunia pada Islam mengalami pergeseran, memang tidak semua, tetapi waktu itu saya mendapat imbasnya," lanjut sahabat kami. "Seringkali orang-orang menatap saya dengan pandangan aneh, sampai ada yang bertanya, 'kenapa tidak kau lepas saja jilbabmu?' saya hanya tersenyum dan mengatakan bahwa inilah pilihan saya. Apapun pandangan orang lain, saya tetap bertahan hingga kuliah saya selesai dan kembali ke Indonesia,"

Saat itu sahabat kami mendapat banyak tawaran pekerjaan, ada satu perusahaan yang sesuai dengan keahliannya di bidang psikologi dan memberi gaji yang sangat besar. Tetapi.. perusahaan tersebut tidak menerima karyawati yang memakai jilbab, dengan kata lain, sahabat kami harus melepas jilbab dan dia akan langsung diterima.

"Jujur, saat itu saya bimbang. Apalagi pada saat yang sama, ibu saya sakit dan membutuhkan biaya yang tidak sedikit," Sahabat kami melanjutkan, "Ketika dunia menawarkan materi berlimpah, saya tetap mempertahankan apa yang akan saya pertanggungjawabkan kelak, saya tidak mau melepas jilbab. Saya yakin akan ada jalan lain yang memudahkan saya,"

Dan benar saja, tak lebih dari satu bulan setelah sahabat kami menolak pekerjaan yang mengharuskannya membuka jilbab, dia mendapat pekerjaan di sebuah yayasan yang mengelola sebuah sekolah. "Memang, gajinya tak sebesar seperti yang dijanjikan perusahaan sebelumnya, tetapi ada kepuasan batin saat saya bisa menerapkan ilmu saya tanpa meninggalkan apa yang seharusnya saya kenakan,"

Hingga saat ini, sahabat kami tetap setia memakai jilbabnya. "Jangan takut dengan anggapan bahwa jilbab bisa menghalangi rejeki seseorang, yakin saja dengan apa yang sudah kamu putuskan dan fokus. Dengan sikap pantang menyerah, tekun dan doa, percayalah, semua akan dimudahkan, rejeki akan datang dari pintu manapun." tutup sahabat kami.

Sumber : Aku Pertahankan Jilbabku