Sacrifice

In a dark room, the ticking of a sewing machine echoed.

A mother with a bent back, tired hands, and weak eyes was stitching her son's school uniform. The electric light in the room was dim, but in her heart, the hope for her son's bright future shone brightly.

Ahmed, the son of that mother, was an extremely intelligent and hardworking boy. But circumstances were so harsh that he went to school every day in old and torn shoes. He always sat at the front of the class, gave the best answers, yet his shoes often became the subject of his classmates’ ridicule.

One day, he came to his mother, eyes downcast, and said softly:

“Mom... my shoes tore in front of everyone... they all started laughing.”

His mother placed her hand on his head. Her eyes were moist, but a smile rested on her lips:

“My son... have a little patience. God is very kind; He will surely make a way.”

A few days later, an announcement was made at school:

“The student who wins the academic competition will receive a prize of one thousand rupees and a voucher for new shoes.”

A sparkle appeared in Ahmed's eyes. It was as if a light had spread within him. He understood that this opportunity was an answer to his prayers.

He began to devote himself to his studies. Day and night, every moment, he had only one goal: success.

Finally, the day arrived. The school hall was packed with students. Ahmed answered the questions with confidence. The final question was difficult for everyone, but Ahmed responded without hesitation.

The results were announced... and the hall erupted with applause:

“The first prize winner is... Ahmed!”

He went up on stage. In his hand was the prize envelope — one thousand rupees and a voucher for new shoes.

At home, Ahmed shared the news with his mother. She hugged him joyfully. But Ahmed's eyes fell on his mother's shoes — worn and torn in many places. Those shoes had witnessed years of hard work, stitching, and the journey of poverty.

The next day, Ahmed went to the market and used the voucher to buy new shoes — for his mother.

When she opened the box, she asked in surprise:

“Son, weren’t these meant for you?”

Ahmed held her hands and gently replied:

“Mom, if it weren’t for you, I would never have won this prize. You have the first right. Your shoes come first... then my dreams.”

Tears silently flowed from his mother's eyes. They were tears of joy, of pride, of the priceless emotion of being a mother.

Moral:

We often credit our success only to our own hard work, but forget the hands that held us and led us through the journey of life.

We forget the nights when our mothers stayed awake worrying for us.

We forget the old shoes they kept wearing so we could have new ones.

If you are standing at any place of honor today, remember — the feet that brought you there may not be your own.

And those feet... were probably your mother's.