“When the body weakens, the heart learns to lean more deeply in trusting in God's plan.”
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| (Subuh prayers at the rooftop) |
Day 05: 25/01/26 (Sunday)
Activity: Makkah - Complete rest in bed
Hotel: Safwah Hotel Mekkah
The flu refused to loosen its grip today. The fever still lingered, though my throat felt slightly better after gargling warm salt water. At the first azan before Subuh, I willed myself out of bed. My joints ached, my muscles protested, but a hot shower helped steady my resolve.
The walk from Safwah Tower to Masjidil Haram, barely 50 meters on any other day, felt endless. Reaching Gate 92, the entrance to the escalator leading to the rooftop, my preferred prayer area, took every ounce of strength I had. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Breakfast was light, mashed potatoes and salad, just enough to carry me through to lunchtime. The rest of the morning was spent resting in bed, hydrating with Zamzam water, and taking painkillers to ease the body aches.
The group went on a day trip to Taif, but we chose to stay behind. We’ve been there several times before, and in my condition, it would have been more taxing than uplifting. Sometimes, knowing when to pause is also a form of gratitude.
I skipped lunch and managed only a few spoonfuls of instant noodles for dinner. While hubby went to pray at the mosque, I performed my prayers in the room, quietly following the Imam of Masjidil Haram. Even from a distance, the connection remained, gentle, comforting, and deeply reassuring.
Today was not about movement or milestones, but about patience, surrender, and trusting that healing, like worship, takes many forms.
Activity: Makkah - Complete rest in bed
Hotel: Safwah Hotel Mekkah
The flu refused to loosen its grip today. The fever still lingered, though my throat felt slightly better after gargling warm salt water. At the first azan before Subuh, I willed myself out of bed. My joints ached, my muscles protested, but a hot shower helped steady my resolve.
The walk from Safwah Tower to Masjidil Haram, barely 50 meters on any other day, felt endless. Reaching Gate 92, the entrance to the escalator leading to the rooftop, my preferred prayer area, took every ounce of strength I had. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Breakfast was light, mashed potatoes and salad, just enough to carry me through to lunchtime. The rest of the morning was spent resting in bed, hydrating with Zamzam water, and taking painkillers to ease the body aches.
The group went on a day trip to Taif, but we chose to stay behind. We’ve been there several times before, and in my condition, it would have been more taxing than uplifting. Sometimes, knowing when to pause is also a form of gratitude.
I skipped lunch and managed only a few spoonfuls of instant noodles for dinner. While hubby went to pray at the mosque, I performed my prayers in the room, quietly following the Imam of Masjidil Haram. Even from a distance, the connection remained, gentle, comforting, and deeply reassuring.
Today was not about movement or milestones, but about patience, surrender, and trusting that healing, like worship, takes many forms.
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