I couldn’t stop staring at the dates in my hand. My job was simple—carry the basket to the women’s side of the masjid and share the fruit with the mothers. I was only ten years old, and I liked helping, even if my arms got tired from holding the heavy basket.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I lived in Madinah, the city where Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (peace be upon him) made his home after leaving Mecca. Everyone there knew what kind of man he was. He never raised his voice in anger. He never ignored someone who came to him. But the most surprising thing to me—more than his bravery in battles or his deep prayers—was how he treated children.
I wasn’t important. I didn’t know big words or understand complicated things. But I remember this one day as if it happened yesterday.
I had walked into the courtyard of the masjid carrying the basket when I heard laughter. Not loud or wild laughter. It was soft and joyful, the kind you can’t help but smile at. I looked across the crowd and saw the Prophet ﷺ standing among the people. And at his feet—crawling up his robe!—was a baby boy no older than two.
Everyone was gathered, listening to the Prophet ﷺ speak, but this toddler was too little to understand. He only saw robes and sandals and people standing tall. So he waddled forward, right toward the Prophet.
My heart stopped. Would someone pull the boy back? Would the Prophet ﷺ be upset that a child had interrupted something important?
But he wasn’t. He paused. Smiled. Then he bent down—not just a little, but all the way to the ground—and scooped the child into his arms. He kissed the boy gently on the forehead and held him close.
I couldn’t move.
The Prophet’s companions—his closest friends like Abu Bakr and Umar—watched with calm expressions, as if this was just the kind of man Muhammad ﷺ was. And it was.
Later that day, I heard someone ask him, “O Messenger of Allah, do you really kiss children?”
The Prophet ﷺ answered, “Yes.” Then he added, “And what can I do if Allah has taken mercy out of your heart?”
My chest ached when I heard that. Not because I was sad, but because I understood something I hadn’t before. Real strength…true manliness…was not about shouting or being feared. It was about softness. About love.
That day, I decided I wanted to be like him—not just in praying, not just in fasting, but in gentleness. I would smile at children. Be patient with my little cousins. I would not think I was too big or too important to lower myself and lift someone small.
Because the Messenger of Allah ﷺ did.
And there was no one greater than him.
—
Story Note: Inspired by the hadith in Sahih al-Bukhari (Hadith 5997) describing the mercy and affection of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ toward children.
I couldn’t stop staring at the dates in my hand. My job was simple—carry the basket to the women’s side of the masjid and share the fruit with the mothers. I was only ten years old, and I liked helping, even if my arms got tired from holding the heavy basket.
You won’t find my name in any hadith, but I lived in Madinah, the city where Prophet Muhammad ﷺ (peace be upon him) made his home after leaving Mecca. Everyone there knew what kind of man he was. He never raised his voice in anger. He never ignored someone who came to him. But the most surprising thing to me—more than his bravery in battles or his deep prayers—was how he treated children.
I wasn’t important. I didn’t know big words or understand complicated things. But I remember this one day as if it happened yesterday.
I had walked into the courtyard of the masjid carrying the basket when I heard laughter. Not loud or wild laughter. It was soft and joyful, the kind you can’t help but smile at. I looked across the crowd and saw the Prophet ﷺ standing among the people. And at his feet—crawling up his robe!—was a baby boy no older than two.
Everyone was gathered, listening to the Prophet ﷺ speak, but this toddler was too little to understand. He only saw robes and sandals and people standing tall. So he waddled forward, right toward the Prophet.
My heart stopped. Would someone pull the boy back? Would the Prophet ﷺ be upset that a child had interrupted something important?
But he wasn’t. He paused. Smiled. Then he bent down—not just a little, but all the way to the ground—and scooped the child into his arms. He kissed the boy gently on the forehead and held him close.
I couldn’t move.
The Prophet’s companions—his closest friends like Abu Bakr and Umar—watched with calm expressions, as if this was just the kind of man Muhammad ﷺ was. And it was.
Later that day, I heard someone ask him, “O Messenger of Allah, do you really kiss children?”
The Prophet ﷺ answered, “Yes.” Then he added, “And what can I do if Allah has taken mercy out of your heart?”
My chest ached when I heard that. Not because I was sad, but because I understood something I hadn’t before. Real strength…true manliness…was not about shouting or being feared. It was about softness. About love.
That day, I decided I wanted to be like him—not just in praying, not just in fasting, but in gentleness. I would smile at children. Be patient with my little cousins. I would not think I was too big or too important to lower myself and lift someone small.
Because the Messenger of Allah ﷺ did.
And there was no one greater than him.
—
Story Note: Inspired by the hadith in Sahih al-Bukhari (Hadith 5997) describing the mercy and affection of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ toward children.
