02/10/2024
MY OPINION ON PRAYER: A Hospital Bed Reflection!
As I laid in that hospital bed weeks ago, battling for my life, I couldn't help but think of the power of prayer. Twenty-seven years of life had taught me valuable lessons, but none as profound as the focus Muslims bring to their chants/prayers.
Their concentration is unparalleled, a discipline that transcends the worldly. For those brief moments, they're transported to a higher realm, impervious to distractions. Even shouts of "fire" can't break their focus.
So, while in bed, this Muslim man walked in asking if I could let him pray with me since the other wards had forced him out, so I obliged even when the nurse assigned me wasn't certain of my decision. She'd warned the Muslim that I needed no noise but to be resting. Sir are sure you want his prayers because I'm scared oh? I smiled my answers and she left though with a sad face.
You shouldn't have accepted, Muslim said to me. "It's often not about the fear of being hurt but about the reactions when and after being hurt." His surprising facial and head nodding gesture showed how unexpectant my response was to him. He followed by asking my religion and other questions, which I yet again, my response wowed him. When he started the prayer, I noticed how true a Muslim he was in praying, the type of concentration i observed was beyond an adult being held captive by the timely outing of waste when wanting to deficate, in its discipline.
This unwavering dedication reminds me of Yeshua's prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane as Luke 22:44 describes His sweat as drops of blood, a testament to His unwavering faith. Matthew 26:39 shows Him falling to the ground, face down, in supplication.
The similarity during the prayer practices stroke me: Prostrate, humble, and fully submitted to God's will.
As a student of Abrahamic faiths – Judaism, Orthodox Christianity, and Islam – but a practitioner and follower oof nature, I recognized the beauty in each, cherished humanity's diversity.
In that darkest hour moment, I recalled this nurse's gesture who'd come back in administering me another dosage of drips, like a plaque at the Mount of Olives and River Jordan, praising God in chants for my life in the fulfuldé. Tears welled up in my eyes as I remembered this symbol of deep communications unifying body and soul till I got lost in thoughts of my wife who was almost due putting to birth in a few weeks yet, nothing had been brought.
Recovering thanks to the taps and sounds of my name from the nurse who had noticed my really flowing river like cheeks about thirty minutes or so after the Muslim had gone, it was then I understood that in suffering, one only finds solace in the universality of deep meditations should you truly advocate for a self discuss.
It's just so beyond our control when you see things not going the way you want or thought especially when you've tried your hardest best to see life smile at you yet, your perseverance, faith, hardwork and commitment continually seem futile. Through all, I haven't given up, I will still fight for as long as I can and am privileged for the gift or access of life.
My name's Akwewo Colins. This is a glimpse of my health journey. I urge you to keep fighting as me. If the light at the end of the tunnel shines before the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end, either ways the case may be, I'll be gratifying I partook of the life experiences.
There's no giving up!
