My Narrative

Don’t Judge What God Gives

Darkness was still covering the clouds which were hiding the light of the sky, adorned by the moon which had been tired to stay up along the night. Its brightness had grown pale. Even the stars gradually had been going home without saying good bye. However, crow of the cocks were not heard yet. Might be, they were still sleepy waking up too early.
The dawn was still too cold. No ones were willing to uncover their blankets and coincidentally abandoned their dreams. On the other hand, light of a dim lamp pointed to a very small simple house in that was so noisy. It was heard that Mr. Wayan was saying curses and obscenities. Conversely, Mrs. Nengah was quiet and patiently mopping the pee spilled on the floor. Then, she changed his son’s short which was wet by his pee.
“Stop cursing!” said Mrs. Nengah who had restrained her emotion and tears.
“It’s not his mistake” she added. Then, she pulled her husband’s hand and took him into the dining room.
“Let him hear!” said Mr. Wayan.
“No, only us,” answered Mrs. Nengah.
“Please try to love him.” she added.
“He is already 20. You can see, he is the cause of a lot of bother! It’s better for him to get out from here.”
“But, he is ours!” she argued while Mr. Wayan was leaving the room and closed the door violently.
Lanang had heard their conversation. He was standing weakly in front of the door and looking at his mother who was sitting on the bench with bad feeling. She was thinking about her son, the only son. Lanang approached her, then, hold her in silence. She stroked her son’s hair gently as she tried to give him a motivation. She restrained her tears which almost rolled down her cheek. She did not want to be weak because she had to teach how to be strength, because she had to teach how to be patient, not to be weak and easily give up to the situation.

* * * * *

Lanang, a man with a lot of unluckiness and imperfectness, was sitting on the bench at the bus stop, he was thinking about his parents’ conversation tonight. His brain never stopped thinking of how he could help his family and made his father proud of him. He imagined if he had had two strong and perfect legs instead of those lame weak legs. He imagined if he had had two strong and perfect hands for holding, he would have a bit proud. He wanted to protest the God, but how? It would not change his fate; it would not conjure his legs and his hands to be the perfect ones.
“He is already 20. You can see, he is the cause of a lot of bother!”
He went over his father’s words while trying to stand up slowly. He saw a young boy as a beggar with his mannered expression try to obtain money from the buyer on the supermarket near the bus stop. “No” he said to himself refusing his own willingness to do the same thing with the boy. Unintentionally, he glanced at a man sitting near to him who was concentrating to read the newspaper.

* * * * *

In the cloudy morning, Lanang went along the bus station. By a great difficulty, he tried to hold a few sheets of newspapers and lamely peddled them to the people there. Suddenly, the clouds dropped the rain and quickly wetted his clothes. As quickly as possible, he runs lamely to a place for taking shelter. But, it was too late. His slow movement made everything not easier. Though he had run as quickly as he could, fortune still did not side to him. He realized that the newspapers were already wet and no ones were willing to buy them. He was so sad and went home with disappointment.
His father was sitting on the bamboo couch when he arrived home. When he started to open the door,
“Where are you from?” asked his father.
“I tried to sell newspaper at the bus station” said Lanang.
“So, where is the money?”
“I.........” He began to continue his explanation while his father glared at him. Then, he continued:
“I got caught in rain, so the newspapers were wet and damaged. I have to pay for the indemnity. I am sorry....”
There was a change in his father’s expression.
“Stupid! Don’t you feel that you have given me a lot of troubles along my life? All you have are useless; your legs, your hands, and everything! You can’t do anything for me. And now, I should pay for your mistakes! Go out from here! You won’t be expected again here!” his father said angrily and it was not a joke.

* * * * *

The road was still quiet. There were just few vehicles pass through enlivened the road. Lanang found himself was lying on the sidewalk. His wet clothes were already dry because of the wind. But, he was still feeling the coldness and snuggled in such way. That day was the first time he was far from his family, especially his mother. He felt very sad. He would be far away from his mother who had taught him about patience. There was nothing else that he really needed in his life, except his mother. There was nothing that could encourage him from his burden, except his mother, the woman who had given him honest love.
He was doing nothing when an old man with plain appearance passed in front of him. Firstly, he did not want to pay attention on him, but there was something that interested him. The old man sat beside him. Lanang stared at the old man which unwillingly at the same time glanced at him. He was surprised when he realised how the old man’s eyes could calm him down. He found that the old man’s eyes sight revealed a bitter life which is sunk by a deep resignation.
“Hi, what’s your name?” asked the old man, shattered Lanang’s thinking.
“Hmm...?”
“What’s your name???” the old man repeated his question, in this time with louder voice.
“Oh, Lanang” he answered.
“Where is your home?”
“I.....”
“Let’s stay with me in my house” said the old man. Without asking for Lanang’s agreement, the old man stood up and walked leaving him. Then, Lanang walked slowly follow the old man.
“What should I call you?” asked Lanang.
“Just call me grandpa”

* * * * *

They arrived at a house which did not seem good, on the contrary, almost very poor. The wall was from a plaited bamboo which was already old because of its age, might be the age was as old as the man. Some sheets of newspapers were adhered on it as if they decorated the wall which was not fully beautiful. Indeed, they just remained its shabby and sleazy impression. The house only has one room which has a partition at the centre. There was no table, no chair, no bed, and no other furniture in the room. It revealed that the house was not more than a building with walls, floor, ceiling, and that was all. There was nothing interesting except a few paintings without frames hung on the wall. Those paintings were the only ones which seemed to be well taken care of.
“Whose paintings are those?” Lanang asked while pointing at those nice paintings.
“Those are mine” grandpa answered while trying to have a sit on the floor with a great difficulty.”
“Did you make them by yourself?”
“Yeah, of course. Wanna try?”
“But, how? You can see my legs and my hands......”
“Your legs may be lame, your hands may be imperfect, but not your imagination, your creativity and your dream.”
Grandpa took a paint brush and a canvas, then, threw them on the floor. Meanwhile, Lanang hardly tried to take them his hands when grandpa said:
“No! Take them by your mouth!”
Lanang was so angry and wanted to protest grandpa. But, he still tried to take the paint and the canvas again by his hands when suddenly grandpa trod his hands while repeat the previous instruction.
“You treated me like a servant! What do you want?”
“Just trust me” grandpa said seriously.
Lanang tried again. But now, he tried to take the brush and the canvas by his mouth. He tried to spread the paint on the canvas though it was so difficult for him. Although mouth and hands are similar in terms of they are parts of the body, but the functions cannot easily substitutes one another. That is what Lanang felt. Mouth is just a mouth. It cannot become hands. But, one thing that had to be remembered is that everything would be possible if someone tried. God would never create something with imperfectness. Imperfectness is just what someone thought and felt as a reason to excuse for giving up.
Lanang lived with grandpa now. Every day, he did all what grandpa told. He learned how to be grateful for all he had and never felt disappointed to what the God gave to him.

* * * * *

Lanang was looking at the canvas lying on the table, then, thinking for a moment and then, friskily took the paint brush by his mouth, and spread the paint on the canvas which gradually was fully covered by the paint. It was a painting that he would sell to his customer. A painting was about his life. He went over the man’s words in his mind.
“Your legs may be lame, your hands may be imperfect, but not your imagination, your creativity and your dream.”
He said to himself,
“If I don’t have any legs, I can use my hands as legs. If I don’t have hands, I can use my mouth. There’s nothing impossible in my life if I try and never give up. Thank God for the lame legs, for the imperfect hands, and for the most prefect mouth You give for me.”