It was one of those hot Medina afternoons when the dust clung to your feet and everyone looked for a patch of shade. I was just a young servant back then—barely thirteen—and I spent most of my days running errands, fetching water, and trying not to get in anyone’s way. But that day, I learned something I never forgot—not from a lesson or a khutbah (Friday sermon), but from a smile.
I don’t appear in any books or hadith (narrations of the Prophet’s actions and words), but I had the honor of walking behind the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ once. He was headed to visit a group of his companions—those brave and kind men who followed him through every hardship. I carried a small jar of water, hoping I’d be useful.
As we passed two friends sitting under a crooked date tree, one of them was telling the other a story that made them both laugh. Their shoulders shook, and one of them even slapped the ground in amusement. Still giggling, they fell silent and stood up respectfully as the Prophet ﷺ approached.
What happened next caught me by surprise. The Prophet ﷺ smiled. Not a forced smile or the kind grown-ups do when they’re trying to be polite. It was a warm, real smile that reached his eyes. I could feel it, even from where I stood.
Then he made a gentle comment—something playful. I won’t repeat the words here, because I don’t remember them exactly, and I wouldn’t want to make a mistake. But I remember the feeling it brought: laughter. Not loud or wild, but the kind that made everyone feel close and light and grateful.
One of the older companions, standing next to me, leaned down and whispered, “You see, boy? The Prophet ﷺ said, ‘Do not consider any act of goodness insignificant, even meeting your brother with a cheerful face.’”
That hadith—those words—stuck in my heart. Later I would learn that these words were collected by Imam Muslim, a great scholar of hadith.
I used to think being religious meant being serious all the time—always worried, always frowning. But that day showed me something different. The Prophet ﷺ was the most devoted servant of Allah. He prayed more than anyone, cried in sujood (prostration), gave everything he had—and yet, he smiled. He joked, when it was kind. He made others feel valued just by being near him.
That moment changed how I treated others. If someone looked sad, I tried to smile at them. If a little boy tripped, instead of scolding, I helped him up and made a light joke to ease his tears. It didn’t feel small anymore. It felt like a way to follow the Prophet ﷺ—in cheerfulness, in mercy.
Now, years later, I still remember that honest, joyful smile. Some think strength is in loud voices or hard faces. But I saw true strength in a kind one.
Story note: Inspired by hadiths in Sahih Bukhari (6088) and Sahih Muslim (2315) that describe the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ as smiling often and encouraging others to do the same.
It was one of those hot Medina afternoons when the dust clung to your feet and everyone looked for a patch of shade. I was just a young servant back then—barely thirteen—and I spent most of my days running errands, fetching water, and trying not to get in anyone’s way. But that day, I learned something I never forgot—not from a lesson or a khutbah (Friday sermon), but from a smile.
I don’t appear in any books or hadith (narrations of the Prophet’s actions and words), but I had the honor of walking behind the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ once. He was headed to visit a group of his companions—those brave and kind men who followed him through every hardship. I carried a small jar of water, hoping I’d be useful.
As we passed two friends sitting under a crooked date tree, one of them was telling the other a story that made them both laugh. Their shoulders shook, and one of them even slapped the ground in amusement. Still giggling, they fell silent and stood up respectfully as the Prophet ﷺ approached.
What happened next caught me by surprise. The Prophet ﷺ smiled. Not a forced smile or the kind grown-ups do when they’re trying to be polite. It was a warm, real smile that reached his eyes. I could feel it, even from where I stood.
Then he made a gentle comment—something playful. I won’t repeat the words here, because I don’t remember them exactly, and I wouldn’t want to make a mistake. But I remember the feeling it brought: laughter. Not loud or wild, but the kind that made everyone feel close and light and grateful.
One of the older companions, standing next to me, leaned down and whispered, “You see, boy? The Prophet ﷺ said, ‘Do not consider any act of goodness insignificant, even meeting your brother with a cheerful face.’”
That hadith—those words—stuck in my heart. Later I would learn that these words were collected by Imam Muslim, a great scholar of hadith.
I used to think being religious meant being serious all the time—always worried, always frowning. But that day showed me something different. The Prophet ﷺ was the most devoted servant of Allah. He prayed more than anyone, cried in sujood (prostration), gave everything he had—and yet, he smiled. He joked, when it was kind. He made others feel valued just by being near him.
That moment changed how I treated others. If someone looked sad, I tried to smile at them. If a little boy tripped, instead of scolding, I helped him up and made a light joke to ease his tears. It didn’t feel small anymore. It felt like a way to follow the Prophet ﷺ—in cheerfulness, in mercy.
Now, years later, I still remember that honest, joyful smile. Some think strength is in loud voices or hard faces. But I saw true strength in a kind one.
Story note: Inspired by hadiths in Sahih Bukhari (6088) and Sahih Muslim (2315) that describe the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ as smiling often and encouraging others to do the same.
