Siti stood quietly beside her father as the cow was led gently to the field. Her father had saved for months — not because they had much, but because it mattered to him.
She remembered asking once,
“Ayah… why do we do this? Doesn’t Allah have everything already?”
He smiled and replied,
“Allah doesn’t need anything from us, Siti. But we need to learn how to let go. Sacrifice teaches us that.”
At the time, she didn’t understand. But life would teach her.
Years later, Siti was living in comfort. Earning well. Eating well. Yet her heart felt… hollow. Worship became routine. Giving became just a number on a screen. She wanted to feel something real again.
Then one day, she received a photo.
A little girl, maybe 6 or 7
years old, standing barefoot in a quiet village in Central Java. Her dress was faded, her cheeks sunburnt from the tropical heat — but in her hands, she held a plastic bag of fresh Qurban meat… and her smile was everything.
Her family had not tasted meat in months.
That bag? It was a feast.
A gift from someone thousands of miles away who clicked "Give Qurban" and moved on.
Siti felt a lump rise in her throat. That smile, that joy — that was the fruit of sacrifice.
That night, she returned to her prayer mat.
Not out of habit. But out of longing.
“Ya Allah… forgive me for forgetting.
The Qurban was never for You.
It was for me — to
purify my heart, to teach me gratitude, to soften the edges of my soul.”
