There is a feeling that exists only in Makkah and Madinah. One that words always seem too small to capture. It is peace, serenity, and contentment all at once. A happiness that does not belong to this world.
The first time I laid my eyes on the Holy Kaabah was in 2010.
People often ask me what it feels like to see the Kaabah for the first time. The truth is, it is a feeling you experience only once. I've been blessed to return many times since then, but nothing compares to that very first moment.
I still remember standing there, completely overwhelmed. My eyes could not leave the Kaabah. Even while making tawaf, I kept looking at it, afraid to miss even a second. It was as if my heart had finally found something it had been searching for all its life.
Before that first trip, I had heard so many stories. "If you make mistakes in Makkah, you'll be punished immediately." "Some people can't even see the Kaabah." Looking back, I realize many first-time pilgrims hear the same frightening tales. But those fears could not be further from the truth.
Why would Allah invite His servants to His Sacred House only to terrify them? We are called Dhuyuffur Rahman the Guests of the Most Merciful. Think about that for a moment. When you invite guests into your home, you don't look for reasons to punish them. You welcome them. You honor them. You take care of them. Would Allah, whose mercy is beyond our imagination, invite His guests only to frighten them? Of course not. Makkah is not a place where Allah is waiting to punish us. It is a place where He welcomes us with His mercy.
I have this one particular personal experience during my first visit. One of the greatest lessons of my life.
It happened on the first day I arrived, after Fajr prayer. My family asked me to collect our shoes while they waited somewhere in the Masjid. Found our shoes. But then when I returned to where my family had been waiting...They were gone.
I started walking around, thinking I'd find them.
I didn't.
I searched every face that passed me. None of them belonged to my family. I kept walking. Round after round. Every direction looked the same. Masjidil Haram is enormous. Thousands of people were leaving Masjidil Haram after Fajr, flowing in every direction like rivers merging into one another. Anyone who has been inside Masjidil Haram knows this feeling.
Slowly, confidence gave way to panic. A frightening thought entered my mind. I don't know the name of our hotel. I don't know where we're staying. There are thousands of hotels in Makkah. What should I do? Where should I go?
I looked around and noticed other Malaysians walking nearby. For a brief moment I thought about asking them for help. But help with what? "I've lost my family." "Can you take me back?" Back where? I couldn't even remember the name of our travel agency.
Should I ask the police? But how would I explain where I needed to go? I was completely lost. The more I searched, the more exhausted I became.
Then, finally...
I stopped. I took a deep breath. I slowly lifted my eyes and there it was: the Holy Kaabah. My eyes went teary. My heart felt heavy. Everything around me faded into the background. Thousands of people were still walking. But in that moment, it felt as though there was only me...and Allah. For the first time since all this began, I stopped relying on myself. I raised my hand and make du'a, "Ya Allah... please help me find my family." That was all. That was my last resort.
I turned around. And within seconds... Across the crowd... I saw my father. The rest, as they say, is history.
To this day, I cannot explain how he appeared so suddenly. But perhaps finding my father was not the greatest miracle that morning. The real miracle was what Allah was teaching me. For so much of my life, I believed I had to carry everything on my own. I rarely asked people for help. Somewhere along the way, I became so independent that I had forgotten the One I should have depended on first. Not the last resort.
I exhausted myself trying to solve a problem that was never mine to carry alone. Only when I stopped... Only when I surrendered... Only when I turned to Allah... did finally I find my way out. The One who controls every path, every heart, and every single thing had been there all along, waiting for me to simply ask. It was as though Allah was gently reminding me, "You don't have to do everything by yourself." "Ask Me." "Depend on Me."
That lesson has stayed with me ever since.
Life will always have moments when we feel lost. Sometimes we don't know which direction to take. Sometimes we don't know how we'll solve the problems in front of us. Sometimes, without even realizing it, we lose our reliance on Allah. And often, like I did that morning in Makkah, we keep running in circles, trying to fix everything ourselves. When all along Allah is only one sincere du'a away. His help may not always come within seconds like it did that day. But it always comes in the best way and at the best time. That is His promise.
Whenever life becomes heavy, I remind myself of that frightened young woman standing alone in Masjidil Haram. She was not lost. Allah was helping her find something precious. She found tawakkul. She found the certainty that she never had to walk through life alone. Sometimes Allah allows us to lose our way so that we can find our way back to Him.
No matter how many mistakes. No matter how weak. No matter how lost. Rely on Him first. His mercy has always been greater than our fears.
I have Allah.
And that has always been enough.
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