the ... the broken one grows ... the lost one ... the futility, the meaning ...
the bandaneira song was enough to affect me a few days. all about choice. which is occasionally easy to do, but it is often difficult to determine. the brain thinks so hard, the heart examines the truth in the clouds, and the prayer tries to find its way to God. Oh, God...
oh, really, that's the vote. be grateful or grieve. a man who is no less a gift from God, but thank goodness something rare. and it's still a matter of choosing. two or two different but the same. are not the north and south poles are equally snowy but even though they are different?
until the time comes. the choice must be dropped. frowned forehead, winced lips, closed eyes, and Bismillah coming out of my mouth sincerely, escorting me in my choice. but doubts never go away.
a few days after the choice is dropped, something has died down. but why the doubt did not go away. what do you regret from what you have decided? do you still expect to plant coffee while you have chosen to plant oil? is not the path you choose and that you do not choose are still the mystery of God? and you want to determine your own certainty and doubt the way of God?
never mind, your way of life is the mystery of God. let your doubts remain, as long as you hang on to God. there is no use to worry about the path you have chosen. anyway time will not be repeated. believe that every path will find its own good. let the broken back grow, the lost change, and the futile into meaning.