My grandpa is someone serious. I think I inherited that personality too, because sometimes, I feel like I actually have zero funny side. When others seemed to enjoyed and relaxed and laughed hard at one moment, what I did was stared blankly and found nothing funny.
Anyway, let’s move on.
My grandpa is an old man. He’s 73 years old now, and once in a while he will tell me how hurt his legs and he need to stop walking ini a far distance. He currently stays in my house, because my aunt just gave birth and my grandpa wanted to see his newborn granddaughter.
He is the type of man whom everyone respect. My mother said, in her hometown, my grandpa is an imam shalah in a mosque close to his house. Each day, many among the folks who live there follow his command in prayers. He always managed to come to the mosque at least half an hour before the adzan heard by the houses complexions.
The nearest mosque located in my residence are 100 metres away. Maybe it took only five minutes to get there. However, my grandpa, doesn’t like the ambiance there. He prefers the mosque that is located almost 600 metres away from home. Usually he goes there by bike. But when his legs feel numb and start to ache, he will stop riding the bike, and choose to walk instead.
Walking may sounds better, but to a 73-year-old man, walking could be such a pain even though he walked as slowly as possible, and walk with no rush at all.
But he never stop walking. Five times a day. He’ll took off from home at 4 am, back at 6 am, and so on. Fitting his time with the prayers time.
My grandpa bear the pain, just to pray in the mosque, in the first line of shalah and in the exact time, and he put prayer first before everything.
Pain is not supposed to slowed you down.
It supposed to lift you up, and make you stronger than before.
Make you feel you ought to and must overcome the pain to get things you desired, and not giving up because you can’t hadle the pain well.