“And He found you lost and guided you.”— Qur’an 93:7
There’s a strange kind of silence that comes after pain has reshaped your life. Not the loud, dramatic kind that comes with tears and sobs—but the quiet one, where you realize that your body doesn’t move the way it used to. That your days are now measured not by tasks accomplished, but by pain managed. That your version of “normal” has permanently changed. And no one claps or cheers for you anymore—because the world has moved on. And so should you as well.
This is the moment you meet your “new self.”
The one that limps, figuratively or literally.
The one that wakes up slower.
The one that avoids mirrors, or the past.
The one that sometimes stares at the ceiling wondering, Am I really good enough? How could I be useful in the state that I am in?
The illusion of what was:
We often idolize our past. “I used to be so active.” “I was always the strong one.” “People relied on me” etc. But this kind of nostalgia, though understandable, can trap us in a very negative way. It can blind us from the spiritual treasure that is hidden in the present moment—the now. Because the truth is, your ability to walk, jump, drive, or even smile without effort never defined your worth with Allah SWT.
What defined it was your heart, your intention, and your resilience.
You may now walk slower—but you walk with more reflections and insights.
You may speak less—but your silence is filled with Dhikr and attachment to the Creator.
You may be in pain—but every second of that pain is a reason for your sins to fall like dry leaves from a tree in autumn.
Is that not a new kind of success?
A limp that leads to light:
There is a beautiful irony in Islam, that even limping, if associated with good intention and with sincerity, can lead you to Jannah.
The Prophet ﷺ said:
“No fatigue, nor disease, nor sorrow, nor sadness, nor hurt, nor distress befalls a Muslim—even if it were the prick he receives from a thorn—but that Allah expiates some of his sins for that.” (Bukhari & Muslim)
So that limp you now carry? It’s not a liability. It’s a ladder.
It’s a visible sign of your unseen struggle. A badge of survival. A statement that though your body was knocked down, your soul stood up very strong.
Your new normal may not look like strength in the worldly sense. You may no longer lift weights or lead projects or be the “go-to” person in your community. But in the sight of Allah SWT, your stillness might be more powerful than your old hustle. Your D’ua might shake the heavens more than your speeches ever did.
When loss becomes direction:
The verse, “And He found you lost and guided you” (Qur’an 93:7), reminded us that being “lost” isn’t always a spiritual wandering. Sometimes, it’s being lost in grief, depressive symptoms, or in your own body. Lost in your identity after trauma. Lost in wondering who you are without the strength you once had, and so on.
But Allah found you. Allahu Akbar…
He redirected your path. He gave you a new map. One that still leads to Him.
And now, even with your cute limp, your delay, your brokenness—you are walking toward Him.
That’s the goal.
My last words on pain…
Let me say this from the heart: I know what it’s like to cry in secret because you’re tired of explaining your pain. To smile in public while your soul limps in private. I remember whispering to Allah SWT: Ya Rabb, I don’t know how to do this anymore. But somehow, He carried me throughout this painful journey. Not because I’m strong—but because He is The Most Merciful.
Pain doesn’t always scream. Sometimes it limps gently. But every limp is proof: I’m still moving.
And as long as you’re moving—towards Allah SWT—you’re winning big time.
So, walk slowly. Cry freely. Pray regularly, and limp if you must…
But never stop heading toward Jannah.
Your new normal might just be the beginning of the best chapter in your entire existence. So enjoy the ride.
Sh. Wael Ibrahim…
(NOTE: If you’re in pain and would like to ask me any questions, why don’t you jot them down here? don’t be stingy 😉 lol
