The Wisdom of a Prayer

When summer came, Aunt Anora would come to our house every evening with her granddaughter Humora to watch TV. Because there was no electricity in her hut. She would wake up at dawn in her house among the reeds and go around her yard – after all, she would take care not to let the animals eat the reeds. She would sell the reeds and help her family. Although she did not have much money, Aunt Anora could not stop working.

By the way, they had about a hundred sheep, more than seventy goats, more than thirty cows and dozens of horses – but still, Aunt Anora’s enthusiasm for work amazed everyone. The melon crops in their yard were overflowing – not only people, but even birds seemed to be waiting in line. After all, he didn’t trust anyone — “My own work, my own livelihood,” he always said.

When the sun was slowly setting below the horizon, Aunt Anora would come to our house, first opening her hands in prayer:

— Oh my God, You are kind. Don’t make me need anyone else but You. Take my life where I walk. Protect me from being a burden to someone while lying in bed. Amen… Allahu Akbar…

This prayer of his always seemed strange to me. After all, he has everything, right? If he doesn’t lack anything. Why does he ask for so much money? Unable to hide my surprise, one day I asked him sarcastically:

— Aunt, why are you so worried? In any case, we don’t have any…

He smiled, handed me the tea, and frowned:

— You’ll understand when the time comes…

At that moment, my daughter-in-law, Oisara, who was making a batch in front of the tandoor, said, “Zuhra, bring the bowls, we’ll make the soup.”

Years passed. Aunt Anora’s prayers rang in my ears. I went to study in Tashkent. However, soon after, a constant sore throat began to bother me. Sometimes I felt embarrassed in front of my friends. A year passed in such agony.

The second year of study began. But the pain in my body made me think more than the lessons. During this time, my heart would pound, I would feel weak, and my complexion would turn pale. I dropped out of school and returned home. The doctors examined me, and finally they gave me the diagnosis: pulmonary tuberculosis.

 My head was spinning, my heart was pounding. Sometimes I could barely breathe. The doctors were surprised.

— This is the first time in my career that I have ever encountered such a situation, — said Sister Zaynab, her eyes sad.

My condition worsened day by day. At that time, Aunt Anora’s prayers kept ringing in my ears: “Take my life while I am walking…”. Could it be that I, too, would be bedridden and unable to drink a single mouthful of water without anyone’s help?

My heart shuddered. My limbs trembled, and my eyes filled with tears. Now I understood — no one wants to be in need, even the closest ones. Loneliness is the most painful cry in silence. For a person lying in bed, no one hears this cry. No comfort, no consolation can be a balm for your pain. Fighting illness alone is the most difficult test for a person.

One such day, I went to the window. Outside, the autumn breath was deep and the birds were chirping. But I couldn’t feel this beauty inside me. The sadness that was pressing hard on my heart was like darkness. My eyes were fixed far from the window – on the light clouds at the foot of the sky. For a moment, Aunt Anora came into my mind – she always emphasized that “One should not forget to be grateful.”

Suddenly, something trembled inside me. It was hope. Although the pain had taken over my body, my spirit had not yet been defeated. At that moment, my mother entered the room. Her gaze was as kind as if it were swallowing me, and in her hand was a bowl of hot soup. I looked at her – in this look there were a thousand words, in a thousand words there was only one plea: “I still want to live.”

 She put the soup on the table and stroked my hair:

— You are strong, my daughter… You will pass this test too. As Aunt Anora said, one should not be absorbed in silence, there is life in it too.

Her words began to illuminate the darkness inside me a little. Perhaps this pain did not come to break me, but to teach me a lesson. Perhaps I am now understanding the truth that Aunt Anora said: a person should be grateful for every breath, every step, every mouthful of water.

A light whisper was heard in the silence. I did not know if it was the wind outside or the patience in my heart. But there was one truth that I knew:

Life is the realization of the blessing of opening your eyes every morning when you wake up. Every heartbeat is the belief in living.

The greatest truth that I realized during these difficult days was the wisdom hidden in Aunt Anora’s prayer.

 She pleaded:

“Take my life where I am, don’t make me need anyone…”

At first, these words seemed to me just a fear of old age. But now I understand that this prayer was a request for humility before life, for the preservation of human dignity. Because lying in bed and needing someone’s help with every breath is a test not of the body, but of the soul.

I gradually began to recover. Every morning, when I wake up, I repeat Aunt Anora’s prayer:

“Oh my God, You are kind, don’t make your servant need anyone other than You…”

Now I have learned to walk with gratitude at every step, to feel life with every breath. Pain breaks the body, but patience makes a person an idol.

And I understood: sometimes one prayer changes a whole life.

Abdisattorova Hurshida was born on November 9, 1997, in the village of Olmazor, Chirakchi district, Kashkadarya region. She is currently a third-year student of Sports Journalism at the University of Journalism and Mass Communications.

Her articles have been published in the newspapers Hurriyat and Vaziyat, as well as on the websites Olamsport and Ishonch. She is also a participant of the international scientific-practical conference titled “Future Scientist – 2025.”