Somehow I never get to finish this the way it was initially intended, which was as detailed as possible. So, it is probably that Allah wills it that way. Every revert, will at some point find it a compulsion to have their whole revert story told. There is a certain feeling of debt about it. If you are a revert, you would know what I’m talking about. The pressure is just there, to be honest. It just simply exists.
<em>The society has a silent demand for it.</em>
For the most part of the situation, I can’t care less. But when my family and my friends look at me with that question in their eyes, I really feel that I owe some sort of explanation. For those who were brave, they have come up and actually tried to get it straight from me. There are those, however (and believe me, I know), who are actually waiting.
In my case, they did so for about 3 years…
… and I do apologise deeply.
I won’t bore you with the details on how I was originally “possessed by evil” back then and how I have miraculously changed into a “perfect angel” after “the calling”. <em>Every revert story seems to have that same particular theme. </em>Besides, all that is for me to know, for others who lived it with me to witness and for you — to be honest, to just stay out of. If we are to remain good with each other, let’s not bring about anything from the past. The lame part of my calling is that it had nothing to do with anything that happened in real life. If reality is all it seems. Instead, it was only just a dream.
Literally.
I know quite a good amount of Islam even before I officially opened my heart to it. I’ve studied and researched about it, along with other topics of theism, mythological deities, supernatural or extraterrestrial beings, etc. (because, I’m weird… or lost, like that). <em>It was November 25th, 2012. </em>I remembered crying myself to sleep away problems that were on top of one another. I wasn’t a practising Catholic then, no churches or Sunday Schools, no confessions or masses. I didn’t know how to pray. But that night was different. Of course, I didn’t suddenly know how to pray. It was more like, I spoke and dared Him.
<strong>“God… if you really exist, show me.”</strong>
That was the last thought I remembered before I passed out.
And in my dream…
I was in a huge room full of books. If you have watched <a href=”https://www.google.com/search?q=beauty+and+the+beast+2017&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8″><em>Disney’s Beauty and the Beast</em></a>, just imagine it like the library that the Beast gave Belle as a gift. However, this library was untidy. There were books on the floor, staircase and on the tables. There were dust and cobwebs. You could see dust specks floating on the air in the sunlight. I was searching for something but didn’t know what it was. The conscious part of me didn’t know what’s going on, but that girl in the dream had a mission. She was looking for something. Every time I opened the books, though, they were empty. Fear and frustration welled up in me. I have to find this book.
On the other hand, I don’t even know if it was indeed a book I was searching for. I stopped for awhile and in desperation. And as the girl (who was me) was crying in the dream, I was pretty sure I was crying in reality. I couldn’t wake up, and I didn’t want to. I had to find<strong> it.</strong>
“What am I looking for???” the thoughts in my head scream.
Then I heard it…
<em>Okay, so I wasn’t really sure I heard anything.</em>
There was no one else there and there was no voice. The words, they just suddenly <strong>appeared</strong> into my thoughts.
<strong>“You’re looking for me.”</strong>
I gazed across the room and onto the pile of books on the floor. One of them generated an aura that was so strong, it appeared to be the only living being besides me in that dimension.
I went to it.
Took it.
And like those movies where you found something magical, some sort of rush and a gentle breeze flowed through me. The book was hardbound and old. I didn’t even open it, but I’m sure it was something. It had one word written on it. And no, you guessed that wrong, because this book isn’t the Qur’an. I’m not even sure what I’m holding is a book because it felt so alive. At that moment, I can’t even begin to describe what I felt. I was, however, sure of what I felt when I woke up.
<em>It was Fear.</em>
But it was a good sense of fear. A different kind of fear, a fear that fueled me. Everything in my life flashed before me and I felt a sense of debt. At the same time, I felt freedom. In many sense of that word. Even now, it’s rather hard to explain. It took me months to fully accept what that dream meant for me. All I know was, I never felt more loved than at that moment, and this time… it’s a love felt not from just anyone.
<strong>It was a proposal.</strong>
One that which no man could ever have prepared for anything better. A proposal that would need a man to know me my whole life and lived through everything with me. To let you glimpse on what I’m trying to blab about, here’s a hint:
<blockquote>I love books.
I love reading.
… and I’m a writer.</blockquote>
And with that calling, I strongly believe that I was shown my path in the way that would not only appeal most to me but would make me fully understand with either conscious or subconscious thinking. The months in which I pushed that dream away, was the logical human in me, telling myself it was all but a dream. But my feelings for this new found faith only grew stronger each day. Following my gut, I tried to change my ways. Even before saying the Shahadah in the Islamic Da’wah Centre, I followed the steps of a Muslimah. I seek advice from my Muslim friends and went on a journey of learning. I guess you are still wondering what was written on the cover of that hardbound book. For one, I could read Arabic (and used to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphs, believe me, or not. Because, I’m a geek, like that) and this word, I will not mistake it for another.
It’s not only a word but a name.
<span style=”font-size:72pt;”>الله</span>
And it is <em>Allah</em>…
The past 4 years had been memorable for me in the sense that it signifies the few years of my journey to belief, from the epitome point of meltdown of my faith in everything and into Islam; including the non-physical but mental and subconscious struggles of it with my family and friends, especially those I’ve lost in the process. <em>A different kind of moment of nil. </em>And within what seemed like just a fraction of forever, my lifestyle had totally changed from whatever, if it ever were anything at all, to the ever adventurous and meaningful life of a Muslimah.
I left my previous job and met the love of my life who not only helped me transition but also to come out to my family and friends. I got down to finally pursue my lifetime dream, and so I compiled my writings and published my first book (Moments of Nil – available on <a href=”http://Amazon.com” rel=”nofollow”>Amazon.com</a>). I declared my <em>Shahadah</em> on <strong>August 29th, 2015</strong> and married the man behind almost everything, at the time when I needed a breathing person to support me the most, it was on <strong>April 10th 2016</strong> and the happiest day of my life. Having <em>PCOS</em> (<a href=”https://www.google.com/search?q=pcos&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8″>Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome</a> – diagnosed in 2012), my doctors told me I would find it hard to conceive or not at all. But with prayers and by Allah’s will, my husband and I had a pleasant surprise last September when we found out that we were pregnant with our first baby and will be expecting him/her by May 2017, In shaa’ Allah.
I finally could say I’m happy and content (which was what I really wanted for all of my life, hence, the Muslim name I chose was <strong>Farah</strong>). I’ve let something greater take the wheel of the journey of my life, whilst being the conscious passenger. Making decisions, whilst taking the driver’s advice.
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