The Golden Ax

It was Him.

Negligent and mindless, she insanely continued to attempt to break the stone with her breath. She exhaled from the deepest part of her body, with the intention to destroy this insurmountable impediment. She blew. And nothing.

She blew it.

And nothing happened. And of course nothing happened. But she pursued, and tactlessly strategized to ignore all her needs, to ignore the Golden Ax on the ground behind her, the one she dropped because it was too heavy, and to focus on using her breath on the 100-foot high stone.

Logically, it would never happen. But logic is a luxury for the insane. For the disconnected, for the voluntarily deadened at heart.

The stone only grew. And with it her destructive despair. Losing hope. While no hope can be found in her own breath.

She even tried to get the advice of others. They all gave her tips on how to purse her lips and how to belt it out. No one pointed to the Ax. In fact, some of these others stood with her to blow on the rock. And the rock grew. And it started to shake, to move, slowly rolling towards her, promising a devastating doom.

The rock rolled. Her immobile state remained. And just when the rock began to roll over her outstretched legs, The Help came.

Without a call, without asking, He reminded her of His existence. It was a simple reminder. The Ax lifted itself from the ground and hovered near her hand. The rock stopped. For those who have no connection to Him, it might appear to be too late for her. That she had already lost two limbs. But for those that know, and for her, it was her Awakening.

With broken limbs and a shattered soul, she began to swing ever so slightly at the rock. And her muscles began to kick in. And she made contact. And she tried again, and this time harder. And then she began to hack at the rock. The Ax growing as her faith.

He helped her, despite her negligence.

He answered, without her even asking.

He came close to her, despite her distance.

And she vowed to revive, to replant, to flourish in His love. A love given when undeserved. Given when all else fails. Given when all else is perfect. Given. Given. Given.

There is no "Why me, God?" There is "You chose me, God. Thank you."

الْحَمْدُ لِلَّهِ الَّذِي هَدَانَا لِهَذَا وَمَا كُنَّا لِنَهْتَدِيَ لَوْلا أَنْ هَدَانَا اللَّهُ 
| All praise to Allah, Who has guided us to this. We could not truly have been led aright if Allah had not guided us|

[Al-Araf: 43]