Moshe Rabbeinu tells Bnei Yisroel not to be afraid of conquering the land of Eretz Yisroel. And if they do start to feel scared or nervous, they should think back to the miracles Hashem did for them when they left mitzrayim. They will realize that just as Hashem helped them in the past, He will continue to help them fight these battles and take over the land.
In life, we are sometimes afraid to look ahead. We don't know what the future will bring and we don't know how we will overcome our battles. We need to fortify ourselves with emunah and remember the times Hashem helped us in the past. When we think about other times Hashem helped us pull through, we will feel strengthened and know that He will help us this time too.
May we hold on to our faith in Hashem at all times, by looking back at the times Hashem helped us and staying confident that He will be there for us in the future!
Showing posts with label Future. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Future. Show all posts
Friday, April 12, 2019
Parshas Metzorah
If someome got tzora'as on the walls of their home and they ignored it, it spread to their clothing and then to their skin. It didn't go away until they dealt with it by approaching the Kohen and taking the steps to get rid of it.
When we try to sweep issues under the rug, they don't go away. They continue to spread further until we are forced to face them and deal with them. It takes strength to acknowledge when something is wrong and courage to do what it takes to fix our problems. But then we get to a place of healing and we can put our past behind us, growing and changing into better people.
May we be able to look at our lives with honesty, and have all the strength we need to make positive changes so we can heal, improve and look forward to a better future!
May we be able to look at our lives with honesty, and have all the strength we need to make positive changes so we can heal, improve and look forward to a better future!
Friday, November 9, 2018
Parshas Toldos
When Eisav came in from the field tired and hungry, he agreed to sell the bechorah in exchange for lentil soup. He gave up something eternal and got something fleeting instead.
When we are tired, hungry or stressed, we don't have the clarity to make good decisions. We might say or do things we will later regret. It takes a lot of work to be able to maintain an inner sense of calm but when we can do that, we will be in complete control of ourselves and our reactions. We will be able to respond to people with calm logic instead of reacting with emotional intensity.
May we be able to pay attention to our inner selves and regulate our emotions in a healthy way so we can deal with all situations calmly and with clarity!
When we are tired, hungry or stressed, we don't have the clarity to make good decisions. We might say or do things we will later regret. It takes a lot of work to be able to maintain an inner sense of calm but when we can do that, we will be in complete control of ourselves and our reactions. We will be able to respond to people with calm logic instead of reacting with emotional intensity.
May we be able to pay attention to our inner selves and regulate our emotions in a healthy way so we can deal with all situations calmly and with clarity!
Sunday, August 26, 2018
Shmuly the Spring-A Story
Someone sent me this very inspiring, poignant and emotionally touching story and I want to share it with you. Although it is very long, it is worth the read.
Hi. My name is Shmuel, and I am 28 years old.
Most of the people who know me simply call me “Shmuly.”
I am not used to telling stories. I’m the kind of guy who does better with action. That is why it took me some time to put together all the parts of my personal story and write it down so that I can share it with you.
My story began about eighteen years ago.
I was ten years old, a pretty regular kid, just like everyone else…except in one area.
I had a really hard time sitting in one place for a prolonged period of time.
And when I say “time,” I don’t mean what you probably think. My concept of time is different than most people’s. “Too much time,” for me, means a few seconds.
Yeah, I’m a “spring,” if you will.
If this would be today, I would surely get a diagnosis comprised of a string of initials (along with a pill or two), but in those days there weren’t that many interpretations, so the nickname given to me was short and friendly, “Shmuly the Spring.”
Honestly, I didn’t mind. I knew that it was true, and I could actually relate to the imagery.
Baruch Hashem, I had no complaints. I had incredible rabbeim who didn’t make a big issue out of my hyperactivity.
Everyone in my class was already used to the fact that Shmuly the Spring is the one who is sent to bring the rebbe coffee in middle of class, and other such jobs, basically keeping me busy. And truthfully, I liked the arrangement, too.
I would sit in front of the rebbe and try hard to listen and understand what he was teaching. Then, when I couldn’t focus anymore (usually after a few minutes), I would look for something to do. At that point I would hear the rebbe’s voice calling to me, “Shmuly, please get us some more chalk.” I would happily get up and run to perform the chore.
That was basically what my life in school was like.
One morning, as we waited for our rebbe to enter the classroom, the principal walked in instead. He stood behind the rebbe’s desk and asked for silence.
“I’m sorry to share this with you,” he said, “but your rebbe has suddenly fallen ill and had to undergo emergency surgery last night. He will not be coming back for the next few weeks.”
We were in shock. We loved our rebbe and were really worried about him.
The principal continued, “Now, boys, let’s say some Tehillim for his recovery.” We said some Tehillim with extra kavanah for our rebbe’s speedy recovery.
That day, the principal taught us, but the following day he walked into our classroom with a man we didn’t know.
“Boys,” the principal said, “this is Rabbi Substitute. He is going to be your substitute rebbe until your regular rebbe gets better, be’ezras Hashem.”
Rabbi Substitute walked over to the rebbe’s desk, and the principal left the classroom.
I’m not sure what made me immediately realize that my life was not going to be easy with Rabbi Substitute. Maybe it was the stern look on his face, or the hoarse voice with which he addressed us, but something told me there was going to be trouble soon.
I was right. It was only a few minutes later when I sensed a heavy shadow over me. I looked up and found Rabbi Substitute staring angrily down at me through his somewhat-dirty glasses.
“What are you busy with over there?” he thundered.
I dropped the beautiful paper airplane I had just completed. The stunning plane did not have a chance inside Rabbi Substitute’s clutched fist, and I felt my heart tearing inside me along with it.
I found myself standing shamefacedly in the principal’s office.
After recess was over, I returned to the classroom. But this scenario repeated itself over and over again in different variations.
After a few days of mounting frustration on all sides, my parents were called to the school. “In my class, all students must learn,” Rabbi Substitute told them firmly. “What do you think he’s going to grow up to be like if he doesn’t use his brain?” He refused to allow me to perform the various tasks that had been my lifeline until then.
Every day, I would be punished and sent out of the classroom in humiliation. I began to feel disappointed and disgusted with myself. I always knew that I was not exactly a typical child, I knew that I was better with my hands than with my head, but I always managed somehow, thanks the energy that Hashem endowed me with and the fact that I loved to help people.
For Rabbi Substitute, however, these qualities meant nothing.
One day, Rabbi Substitute decided to call an emergency meeting to discuss my problems. My parents and I were both called in for a long, painful lecture. I remember my father trying to say something like, “Our Shmuly has other qualities… Maybe his head is less at work but he has amazing hands…”, but Rabbi Substitute didn’t allow my father to say a word.
And here, I remember how Rabbi Substitute’s face reddened. He pointed a finger at me and shouted, “If you don’t start using your head, you’ll amount to nothing! Nothing!”
Then he added under his breath, “Good hands will make you a good plumber, nothing more.”
The days passed, somehow, and finally, finally, our regular rebbe recovered and returned to the classroom. I never saw Rabbi Substitute again.
With time, I even managed to forget his hurtful words. Most of the time.
Sometimes, unexpectedly, I would hear his words playing in my head and shrink into myself with humiliation. When that happened, I would feel like an absolute nothing.
Is that all I could ever hope to amount to? A plumber? Could I really do nothing more? Was I truly worth nothing?!
I admit, though, that this did not happen often. Most of the time, I was busy performing the countless chores and tasks that my rabbeim came up with to keep me busy and confident.
I grew up, finished cheder, and then yeshivah ketanah. I was accepted to a good yeshivah gedolah thanks to my many other talents. So maybe I was not the brightest boy in the class, but I had other things going for me. The many small jobs I did in yeshivah helped me tremendously. The yeshivah and summer camps were where I felt proud and happy.
When I started shidduchim, I knew more or less what kind of girl I wanted to marry. A short while later, I met my wife who wanted me just as I was.
We got married, and I began my married life in kollel. Of course, at the same time, I was searching for some action to fill up my day too; something that would keep me busy and allow me to feel good about myself.
I found that in Israel’s medical emergency response team, a job that saves me from myself. I do many shifts, am always first at the scene and the last to leave it.
Some people might make a face hearing that, but I love the drama and the action, and – more than anything else – the tremendous chessed that I can perform for people in the most critical moments of their lives.
Slowly, I started climbing up the ranks. I did further training. At some point, MADA became my second home.
One night, I woke up to the sound of the dispatcher calling all nearby volunteers to rush to an emergency nearby. Apparently, someone had lost consciousness and needed help.
The address was nowhere nearby, but for some reason I decided to rush to the scene anyway. I figured that there were not many volunteers in that area, and the late hour would make it even less likely that someone could get there quickly. MADA’s headquarters were also too far from the scene.
I jumped into my car and quickly drove over to the address the dispatcher had announced. As soon as I arrived, I realized that I had indeed arrived first. I grabbed my first-aid kit and rushed up the stairs. The panicked voices and the light coming from the apartment led me directly to an elderly man lying on the living room floor. A woman stood next to him – his wife, I presumed – crying hysterically.
I quickly began checking his vitals and performing CPR. Things were not looking good…
No pulse. No breathing.
As I worked, a Hatzalah volunteer arrived at the scene and began working alongside me.
“No pulse or breathing,” I reported to the station. “Send MICU urgently.” The Hatzalah volunteer and I continued working furiously. This guy doesn’t have much of a chance, I thought. Who knows how long he’s been lying like this, in this condition.
But I’m used to leaving my thoughts for my own pillow… for when I try to fall asleep at night. Right now, I had to focus on what I needed to do – and do it.
The ambulance arrived and with it, more advanced equipment. The full team and I continued to do our best, but…nothing. The guy wouldn’t wake up.
The team gave up, but I refused to. I continued to put in every bit of strength I could muster, without thinking.
Yair, a fellow paramedic, placed his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were telling me, Forget it, this is a lost cause.
But I kept going.
The other guys knew me already. They weren’t going to try explaining to me for the umpteenth time that I was too naïve.
I pushed. I pushed again.
And then suddenly I felt something change.
I checked carefully and began screaming like a madman, “There’s a pulse! There’s a pulse!”
The paramedics looked at the patient and immediately realized that I was right. They all began working feverishly again.
Somehow, they managed to stabilize him and rushed him to the nearest hospital together with his tearful wife.
Honestly, I was very emotional as I watched them go. I’ve been in this field for years, but it is still rare to succeed in performing a successful resuscitation - especially in such a case, where the man had been lying unconscious for so long.
I gathered my things and headed back home.
A month passed, and I nearly forgot the incident. One morning, my phone rang.
“Hi, is this Shmuly, from MADA?”
“Yes, who am I speaking with?”
The young man on the other end of the line told me that he was this elderly man’s grandson. My thoughts went back to that fateful night, and I asked him with some hesitation, “How is he?” I wasn’t sure what I was going to hear. I knew that not many people survive after being deprived of oxygen for so long, and even those who do survive are generally badly crippled as a result.
“You have no idea,” the grandson told me with obvious emotion. “You gave us our grandfather back!”
I was so moved that I could hardly get any words out of my mouth.
The young man told me that they had been searching all week long for the phone number of the “angel who saved their grandfather” – that was how he described me. He told me that his grandfather had been discharged and is completely back to his usual self. “We would love to have you join us at the seudas hodaya that we are making in honor of this miracle!”
I could not refuse. I still remembered the address, so I just asked him for the date and time.
On the day of the seudah, I came to the house again. The apartment was filled with family members and tables laden with cakes and candy.
They all welcomed me with hugs and joyful greetings. I have never met these people before, but it seemed that to them I was like family. I was given a seat at the head of the table, next to a dignified-looking man with a white beard.
His face looked familiar…but now I was seeing his face with a healthy coloring.
When he saw me, he stood up and enveloped me in a warm hug. I felt his tears wetting my shoulder, and then my own tears coursing down my cheeks.
He murmured words of thanks, and it was obvious that he was very, very emotional.
I myself was feeling my own storm of emotions – and not only because of the opportunity I had been given to save another man’s life.
With shocking clarity, I suddenly realized that this man who was now looking at me with such gratitude-filled eyes was none other than my childhood teacher, Rabbi Substitute. It must have been his voice that made all the memories surface, but I had no doubt about it. I gently asked him about his life and where he was from. Yes, it was him…
He did not seem to recognize me, but that was understandable. Unlike him, my own appearance had changed drastically since I was ten years old…
I was difficult for me to contain myself. I felt an unexplainable urge to tell him who I was.
I asked one of his sons, who was sitting next to me, to allow me to speak to his father privately. He looked at me in surprise, but apparently, my status as the “savior” helped ward off questions. He stood up and whispered into his father’s ear.
I saw Rabbi Substitute’s eyes looking at me, and then his head nodding in agreement.
We were led to a side room. After we both settled on the day bed in the room and the door closed behind us, I burst into uncontrollable tears.
I had planned to talk to him, but the wave of emotions was stronger than me. I myself had not realized, until that moment, just how deeply he had hurt me.
I felt his hands on my head, and then heard his soothing words trying to calm me. He obviously could not understand what was happening to me.
After I calmed down somewhat, I raised red-rimmed eyes and began to tell him who I was. It took a few moments for him to recall. “You’re Shmuly?” he pointed a shaking finger at me. I saw understanding dawn, and his face suddenly became very white.
I felt a pang of panic. I had already seen his face looking like that. Slowly, however, his color returned. And then it was his turn to cry.
We did not exchange more than a few words, but to me it seemed like we had spent hours in deep conversation.
We simply didn’t need any words. The tears said everything. The deep hurt…the frustration and the pain…the insidious effect of his behavior toward me in the classroom… and also, his regret, his remorse…
He hugged me again, and I returned the hug, feeling forgiveness wash over me. A huge rock was lifted from my chest.
“And I told you that you’ll amount to nothing,” he whispered, his voice filled with indescribable regret.
He asked for my forgiveness again and again, and I told him I was fully mochel.
We walked back into the living room, both of us with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy faces. People looked at us in bewilderment.
When Rabbi Substitute reached his seat, he motioned for me to sit on the adjacent chair, but he himself remained standing. He told everyone that he wanted to say a few words. Within seconds, everyone fell silent. It was clear that they all wanted to know what had happened.
Rabbi Substitute first began by praising me for saving his life. He especially emphasized the illogical efforts I had put in despite the fact that realistically, there was no longer any hope. He focused on the main point, in his opinion, which was that I worked against all odds and used my heart, not my head.
Then he told everyone who I was and where we had first met.
He told them everything. He repeated the words he had used then, at the fateful meeting with my parents, and the things he said about me in front of the entire class. At this point, people were crying unabashedly. In a broken voice he turned to me and asked for my forgiveness again.
I could not speak. I only nodded my consent, my own throat choked with tears.
Then, Rabbi Substitute ended in a heartfelt statement. “Twenty years ago, I told you that you do not use your head. Yet what saved me now was precisely the fact that you did not follow your head – but your heart. Years ago, I thought you had a problem and were not thinking enough. Now I know that what you have is actually a huge heart.”
He hugged me again, and I returned the hug.
That is my story.
It was not easy for me to write it all. You must have realized by now that I am not the sort of person who can easily sit and write things down. But I did it anyway, because I want you to always remember:
There are some kids who have a great head.
There are kids who have a great heart.
And they are all Hashem’s children.
Hi. My name is Shmuel, and I am 28 years old.
Most of the people who know me simply call me “Shmuly.”
I am not used to telling stories. I’m the kind of guy who does better with action. That is why it took me some time to put together all the parts of my personal story and write it down so that I can share it with you.
My story began about eighteen years ago.
I was ten years old, a pretty regular kid, just like everyone else…except in one area.
I had a really hard time sitting in one place for a prolonged period of time.
And when I say “time,” I don’t mean what you probably think. My concept of time is different than most people’s. “Too much time,” for me, means a few seconds.
Yeah, I’m a “spring,” if you will.
If this would be today, I would surely get a diagnosis comprised of a string of initials (along with a pill or two), but in those days there weren’t that many interpretations, so the nickname given to me was short and friendly, “Shmuly the Spring.”
Honestly, I didn’t mind. I knew that it was true, and I could actually relate to the imagery.
Baruch Hashem, I had no complaints. I had incredible rabbeim who didn’t make a big issue out of my hyperactivity.
Everyone in my class was already used to the fact that Shmuly the Spring is the one who is sent to bring the rebbe coffee in middle of class, and other such jobs, basically keeping me busy. And truthfully, I liked the arrangement, too.
I would sit in front of the rebbe and try hard to listen and understand what he was teaching. Then, when I couldn’t focus anymore (usually after a few minutes), I would look for something to do. At that point I would hear the rebbe’s voice calling to me, “Shmuly, please get us some more chalk.” I would happily get up and run to perform the chore.
That was basically what my life in school was like.
One morning, as we waited for our rebbe to enter the classroom, the principal walked in instead. He stood behind the rebbe’s desk and asked for silence.
“I’m sorry to share this with you,” he said, “but your rebbe has suddenly fallen ill and had to undergo emergency surgery last night. He will not be coming back for the next few weeks.”
We were in shock. We loved our rebbe and were really worried about him.
The principal continued, “Now, boys, let’s say some Tehillim for his recovery.” We said some Tehillim with extra kavanah for our rebbe’s speedy recovery.
That day, the principal taught us, but the following day he walked into our classroom with a man we didn’t know.
“Boys,” the principal said, “this is Rabbi Substitute. He is going to be your substitute rebbe until your regular rebbe gets better, be’ezras Hashem.”
Rabbi Substitute walked over to the rebbe’s desk, and the principal left the classroom.
I’m not sure what made me immediately realize that my life was not going to be easy with Rabbi Substitute. Maybe it was the stern look on his face, or the hoarse voice with which he addressed us, but something told me there was going to be trouble soon.
I was right. It was only a few minutes later when I sensed a heavy shadow over me. I looked up and found Rabbi Substitute staring angrily down at me through his somewhat-dirty glasses.
“What are you busy with over there?” he thundered.
I dropped the beautiful paper airplane I had just completed. The stunning plane did not have a chance inside Rabbi Substitute’s clutched fist, and I felt my heart tearing inside me along with it.
I found myself standing shamefacedly in the principal’s office.
After recess was over, I returned to the classroom. But this scenario repeated itself over and over again in different variations.
After a few days of mounting frustration on all sides, my parents were called to the school. “In my class, all students must learn,” Rabbi Substitute told them firmly. “What do you think he’s going to grow up to be like if he doesn’t use his brain?” He refused to allow me to perform the various tasks that had been my lifeline until then.
Every day, I would be punished and sent out of the classroom in humiliation. I began to feel disappointed and disgusted with myself. I always knew that I was not exactly a typical child, I knew that I was better with my hands than with my head, but I always managed somehow, thanks the energy that Hashem endowed me with and the fact that I loved to help people.
For Rabbi Substitute, however, these qualities meant nothing.
One day, Rabbi Substitute decided to call an emergency meeting to discuss my problems. My parents and I were both called in for a long, painful lecture. I remember my father trying to say something like, “Our Shmuly has other qualities… Maybe his head is less at work but he has amazing hands…”, but Rabbi Substitute didn’t allow my father to say a word.
And here, I remember how Rabbi Substitute’s face reddened. He pointed a finger at me and shouted, “If you don’t start using your head, you’ll amount to nothing! Nothing!”
Then he added under his breath, “Good hands will make you a good plumber, nothing more.”
The days passed, somehow, and finally, finally, our regular rebbe recovered and returned to the classroom. I never saw Rabbi Substitute again.
With time, I even managed to forget his hurtful words. Most of the time.
Sometimes, unexpectedly, I would hear his words playing in my head and shrink into myself with humiliation. When that happened, I would feel like an absolute nothing.
Is that all I could ever hope to amount to? A plumber? Could I really do nothing more? Was I truly worth nothing?!
I admit, though, that this did not happen often. Most of the time, I was busy performing the countless chores and tasks that my rabbeim came up with to keep me busy and confident.
I grew up, finished cheder, and then yeshivah ketanah. I was accepted to a good yeshivah gedolah thanks to my many other talents. So maybe I was not the brightest boy in the class, but I had other things going for me. The many small jobs I did in yeshivah helped me tremendously. The yeshivah and summer camps were where I felt proud and happy.
When I started shidduchim, I knew more or less what kind of girl I wanted to marry. A short while later, I met my wife who wanted me just as I was.
We got married, and I began my married life in kollel. Of course, at the same time, I was searching for some action to fill up my day too; something that would keep me busy and allow me to feel good about myself.
I found that in Israel’s medical emergency response team, a job that saves me from myself. I do many shifts, am always first at the scene and the last to leave it.
Some people might make a face hearing that, but I love the drama and the action, and – more than anything else – the tremendous chessed that I can perform for people in the most critical moments of their lives.
Slowly, I started climbing up the ranks. I did further training. At some point, MADA became my second home.
One night, I woke up to the sound of the dispatcher calling all nearby volunteers to rush to an emergency nearby. Apparently, someone had lost consciousness and needed help.
The address was nowhere nearby, but for some reason I decided to rush to the scene anyway. I figured that there were not many volunteers in that area, and the late hour would make it even less likely that someone could get there quickly. MADA’s headquarters were also too far from the scene.
I jumped into my car and quickly drove over to the address the dispatcher had announced. As soon as I arrived, I realized that I had indeed arrived first. I grabbed my first-aid kit and rushed up the stairs. The panicked voices and the light coming from the apartment led me directly to an elderly man lying on the living room floor. A woman stood next to him – his wife, I presumed – crying hysterically.
I quickly began checking his vitals and performing CPR. Things were not looking good…
No pulse. No breathing.
As I worked, a Hatzalah volunteer arrived at the scene and began working alongside me.
“No pulse or breathing,” I reported to the station. “Send MICU urgently.” The Hatzalah volunteer and I continued working furiously. This guy doesn’t have much of a chance, I thought. Who knows how long he’s been lying like this, in this condition.
But I’m used to leaving my thoughts for my own pillow… for when I try to fall asleep at night. Right now, I had to focus on what I needed to do – and do it.
The ambulance arrived and with it, more advanced equipment. The full team and I continued to do our best, but…nothing. The guy wouldn’t wake up.
The team gave up, but I refused to. I continued to put in every bit of strength I could muster, without thinking.
Yair, a fellow paramedic, placed his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were telling me, Forget it, this is a lost cause.
But I kept going.
The other guys knew me already. They weren’t going to try explaining to me for the umpteenth time that I was too naïve.
I pushed. I pushed again.
And then suddenly I felt something change.
I checked carefully and began screaming like a madman, “There’s a pulse! There’s a pulse!”
The paramedics looked at the patient and immediately realized that I was right. They all began working feverishly again.
Somehow, they managed to stabilize him and rushed him to the nearest hospital together with his tearful wife.
Honestly, I was very emotional as I watched them go. I’ve been in this field for years, but it is still rare to succeed in performing a successful resuscitation - especially in such a case, where the man had been lying unconscious for so long.
I gathered my things and headed back home.
A month passed, and I nearly forgot the incident. One morning, my phone rang.
“Hi, is this Shmuly, from MADA?”
“Yes, who am I speaking with?”
The young man on the other end of the line told me that he was this elderly man’s grandson. My thoughts went back to that fateful night, and I asked him with some hesitation, “How is he?” I wasn’t sure what I was going to hear. I knew that not many people survive after being deprived of oxygen for so long, and even those who do survive are generally badly crippled as a result.
“You have no idea,” the grandson told me with obvious emotion. “You gave us our grandfather back!”
I was so moved that I could hardly get any words out of my mouth.
The young man told me that they had been searching all week long for the phone number of the “angel who saved their grandfather” – that was how he described me. He told me that his grandfather had been discharged and is completely back to his usual self. “We would love to have you join us at the seudas hodaya that we are making in honor of this miracle!”
I could not refuse. I still remembered the address, so I just asked him for the date and time.
On the day of the seudah, I came to the house again. The apartment was filled with family members and tables laden with cakes and candy.
They all welcomed me with hugs and joyful greetings. I have never met these people before, but it seemed that to them I was like family. I was given a seat at the head of the table, next to a dignified-looking man with a white beard.
His face looked familiar…but now I was seeing his face with a healthy coloring.
When he saw me, he stood up and enveloped me in a warm hug. I felt his tears wetting my shoulder, and then my own tears coursing down my cheeks.
He murmured words of thanks, and it was obvious that he was very, very emotional.
I myself was feeling my own storm of emotions – and not only because of the opportunity I had been given to save another man’s life.
With shocking clarity, I suddenly realized that this man who was now looking at me with such gratitude-filled eyes was none other than my childhood teacher, Rabbi Substitute. It must have been his voice that made all the memories surface, but I had no doubt about it. I gently asked him about his life and where he was from. Yes, it was him…
He did not seem to recognize me, but that was understandable. Unlike him, my own appearance had changed drastically since I was ten years old…
I was difficult for me to contain myself. I felt an unexplainable urge to tell him who I was.
I asked one of his sons, who was sitting next to me, to allow me to speak to his father privately. He looked at me in surprise, but apparently, my status as the “savior” helped ward off questions. He stood up and whispered into his father’s ear.
I saw Rabbi Substitute’s eyes looking at me, and then his head nodding in agreement.
We were led to a side room. After we both settled on the day bed in the room and the door closed behind us, I burst into uncontrollable tears.
I had planned to talk to him, but the wave of emotions was stronger than me. I myself had not realized, until that moment, just how deeply he had hurt me.
I felt his hands on my head, and then heard his soothing words trying to calm me. He obviously could not understand what was happening to me.
After I calmed down somewhat, I raised red-rimmed eyes and began to tell him who I was. It took a few moments for him to recall. “You’re Shmuly?” he pointed a shaking finger at me. I saw understanding dawn, and his face suddenly became very white.
I felt a pang of panic. I had already seen his face looking like that. Slowly, however, his color returned. And then it was his turn to cry.
We did not exchange more than a few words, but to me it seemed like we had spent hours in deep conversation.
We simply didn’t need any words. The tears said everything. The deep hurt…the frustration and the pain…the insidious effect of his behavior toward me in the classroom… and also, his regret, his remorse…
He hugged me again, and I returned the hug, feeling forgiveness wash over me. A huge rock was lifted from my chest.
“And I told you that you’ll amount to nothing,” he whispered, his voice filled with indescribable regret.
He asked for my forgiveness again and again, and I told him I was fully mochel.
We walked back into the living room, both of us with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy faces. People looked at us in bewilderment.
When Rabbi Substitute reached his seat, he motioned for me to sit on the adjacent chair, but he himself remained standing. He told everyone that he wanted to say a few words. Within seconds, everyone fell silent. It was clear that they all wanted to know what had happened.
Rabbi Substitute first began by praising me for saving his life. He especially emphasized the illogical efforts I had put in despite the fact that realistically, there was no longer any hope. He focused on the main point, in his opinion, which was that I worked against all odds and used my heart, not my head.
Then he told everyone who I was and where we had first met.
He told them everything. He repeated the words he had used then, at the fateful meeting with my parents, and the things he said about me in front of the entire class. At this point, people were crying unabashedly. In a broken voice he turned to me and asked for my forgiveness again.
I could not speak. I only nodded my consent, my own throat choked with tears.
Then, Rabbi Substitute ended in a heartfelt statement. “Twenty years ago, I told you that you do not use your head. Yet what saved me now was precisely the fact that you did not follow your head – but your heart. Years ago, I thought you had a problem and were not thinking enough. Now I know that what you have is actually a huge heart.”
He hugged me again, and I returned the hug.
That is my story.
It was not easy for me to write it all. You must have realized by now that I am not the sort of person who can easily sit and write things down. But I did it anyway, because I want you to always remember:
There are some kids who have a great head.
There are kids who have a great heart.
And they are all Hashem’s children.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Mistakes
The following two questions were submitted anonymously using the form on the right.
Q: How is a person supposed to deal with embarrassment with a mistake that person makes but cant stop and is constantly getting embarrassed by what they did every time that person mentions it or brings it up?
A: I'll repeat it the way I remember hearing from someone I look up to and respect. People tend to think that mistakes are a bad thing. But that's not true. Mistakes are only bad if you don't learn from them. Mistakes are actually good - if you take a lesson from whatever you did and use it to change or grow in the future or to make sure that specific situation doesn't happen again.
For example, if you were trying to bake a cake while you were on the phone with a friend and you skipped out one ingredient, you may not be happy with the results of that cake because your forgot to put in the sugar (!) but this was a mistake that you will make sure not to repeat. If you learn from this experience and decide not to talk on the phone again when you are baking because it disturbs your concentration and then your cake wont come out good, then that mistake is a good thing! You took a lesson from it and from now on, your cakes will come out delicious because you will be able to focus on what you are doing without getting distracted!
The first thing you need to do is see if you can take a practical lesson from whatever happened and make sure you can do something to be more careful in the future.
If a friend or family member keeps reminding you about the incident and that makes you embarrassed, try to talk it over with her. Tell her straight out: it makes me uncomfortable when you constantly bring up that mistake I made. I know I should have been more careful and I botched up the cake and we didn't have dessert for shabbos but next time I will make sure I am not distracted by other things and then it will work out perfectly!
It is very important to be able to communicate openly about how you feel about certain things to those who are close to you so that they do not hurt your feelings by reminding you about past mistakes.
I know the example I gave is a petty one but I hope you can apply it to the mistake you made and work it out in a way that makes both you and the one who reminds you about it happy at the end of the conversation.
If the mistake you made is something wrong morally, ethically or is a bad deed - an aveira, you need to go one step further. You will need to do teshuva - verbalize the aveira, sincerely feel bad about what you did, and take upon yourself to work on that action so that you don't do it again. Chaya Sara wrote a great post a while back called how to do teshuva.
And don't think teshuva is only for Elul, it can and should be done as close as possible to the time the aveira was done - this way you are showing Hashem that you really feel bad about what you did and you sincerely want to change for the better! And then when Elul comes around, you'll have less things to fix!
* * *
Q: How should we react when we find out that a parent made big mistakes?
A: Know that parents are also human beings. All people make mistakes. It says that there is no such thing as a person who never erred or who never sinned (I'm not sure about the exact wording but it's something like Ein tzaddik ba'aretz asher ya'aseh tov v'lo yecheteh.)
Your parents are normal - and just like everyone else in the world they made a mistake.
Depending on what happened next and the effect of their mistake, you may want to find a way to speak to them respectfully about it or get someone to be a go-between to help find a way to fix it.
I don't know what you mean by big mistakes so I can't say much more.
The only thing I have to add is that whatever the thing is that your parent did that looks wrong in your eyes should not diminish your respect for them. You may not know their full thought process behind what they did, they may have expected different results based on the decision they made, but know that parents always want to do whatever is best for their children - and THAT is enough of a reason to continue to love and respect them.
Their emotions may get in the way of their decisions, they may have done something you view as wrong but you cannot know everything they were thinking when they did whatever they did.
Continue appreciating all the good things your parents do for you and most importantly, remember that they are human beings too and you cannot expect perfection from anyone.
I hope this helps both of you. I would really appreciate if the person/people who asked these two questions would comment and let me know if this helped you and if you still have any thoughts or questions about what I wrote.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tears for Tefillah
Sometimes you just get frustrated. It's a fact of life. Things don't always go the way you want them to go and you just feel lost. You try to hold back the tears but you can't. And you just start to cry.
It's not a bad thing to cry. It's actually healthy. It's a way to let your emotions out and you feel better after wards. But sometimes you are crying for things that in reality are petty. Little things. Or many little things that piled up and by the time the day is done you are spent and need to just get it all out of your system. It's not one big thing but many small things that went wrong and then one tiny little frustration was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Tears are very powerful. It says, "Sha'arei dema'os lo ninalu" - the gates of tears are never closed. When a person davens with their heart, with their emotions and their tears, their tefillos go straight up. So if the gates of tears are never closed, why are there gates in the first place?
Because sometimes a person cries for silly things. Petty things. Like at the end of a frustrating day. You just have to let your emotions out and you just cry. But shouldn't you take advantage of the power of tears and do something worthwhile with them?
So how about this. When you feel you need to cry for those annoying things that went wrong during your day, use that powerful opportunity for tefillah so you can bring about something really big. Instead of just letting those tears slide down your cheeks and disappear into thin air, let those tears travel upwards...to the heavens...and accomplish something with them.
When you are annoyed and those tears are falling down your cheeks, take a moment to use those tears to daven for something you need. Or for someone you know who needs something. Or for the entire Jewish Nation who is waiting for our ultimate dream to come true!
Today, the straw broke my back (for the what number time this week?!). There are so many little annoyances that can come along with raising children. It's so normal. It only makes sense that a mother like me will start to cry. But while I was crying together with my baby, I thought to myself, why not use this opportunity to daven for her future? And that's what I did. For those two extra minutes, I hugged my daughter real tight and begged Hashem to give her a good life.
So although I hope for all of you never to have to shed a tear, I know it's only normal for the little things that go wrong on a regular day to take its toll on a person. And while you will be crying, take a moment to daven for something you are waiting for...because you never know which tefillah will make that yeshuah, that salvation you so desperately are waiting for finally happen.
I'm gonna run...I hear Chaya Gitty crying...
It's not a bad thing to cry. It's actually healthy. It's a way to let your emotions out and you feel better after wards. But sometimes you are crying for things that in reality are petty. Little things. Or many little things that piled up and by the time the day is done you are spent and need to just get it all out of your system. It's not one big thing but many small things that went wrong and then one tiny little frustration was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Tears are very powerful. It says, "Sha'arei dema'os lo ninalu" - the gates of tears are never closed. When a person davens with their heart, with their emotions and their tears, their tefillos go straight up. So if the gates of tears are never closed, why are there gates in the first place?
Because sometimes a person cries for silly things. Petty things. Like at the end of a frustrating day. You just have to let your emotions out and you just cry. But shouldn't you take advantage of the power of tears and do something worthwhile with them?
So how about this. When you feel you need to cry for those annoying things that went wrong during your day, use that powerful opportunity for tefillah so you can bring about something really big. Instead of just letting those tears slide down your cheeks and disappear into thin air, let those tears travel upwards...to the heavens...and accomplish something with them.
When you are annoyed and those tears are falling down your cheeks, take a moment to use those tears to daven for something you need. Or for someone you know who needs something. Or for the entire Jewish Nation who is waiting for our ultimate dream to come true!
Today, the straw broke my back (for the what number time this week?!). There are so many little annoyances that can come along with raising children. It's so normal. It only makes sense that a mother like me will start to cry. But while I was crying together with my baby, I thought to myself, why not use this opportunity to daven for her future? And that's what I did. For those two extra minutes, I hugged my daughter real tight and begged Hashem to give her a good life.
So although I hope for all of you never to have to shed a tear, I know it's only normal for the little things that go wrong on a regular day to take its toll on a person. And while you will be crying, take a moment to daven for something you are waiting for...because you never know which tefillah will make that yeshuah, that salvation you so desperately are waiting for finally happen.
I'm gonna run...I hear Chaya Gitty crying...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
whats up with the seven fat cows???
I just recieved this beautiful e mail to help us understand a really cool torah thought that I bet you never thought about in this way.
One of the many lessons that I have learned and want to address is: What is significant in having seven years of plenty fallowed by seven years of famine in Egypt? What can I learn from this to apply to my life?
I know that Hashem always has a master plan and everything works out, even if I don’t see it, and may never see it, but, if I know that it is true I can confidently say, Hashem gives me a tool box for every challenge before the challenge begins. So what was the years of plenty/wealth? They where the tool box given from Hashem, to prepare and stock up for the years of famine, so when the years of famine come the Mizriyim will be prepared and ready to deal with the challenge head on and not die of starvation.
However, there is one important key about human nature which is that people don’t generally see the years of plenty as a tool to use those years to stock up. Instead they live in the moment and never believe that the years of famine will come around. Then, when the years of famine come they are stuck. We see from the Torah that people tend not to notice the years of plenty but, only the years of famine from the fact that the Torah writes “ The years of famine began” but fails to mention that the years of plenty began.
When a person has good she must always remember to use it and cherish every moment because it will not last, as Chazal say “the world goes round and round.” The trick in life is to use those moment toward the future and think into the future. This way when the going gets tough she will have to resources to get through it. A person will not be successful if they don’t plan for the future but live in the moment, the right here right now attitude. A person must plan for the future as Shlomo Hamelech said: “Who is smart? The one who sees into the future.”
There was once a study done on ten children, they were each given his own bag of candy and then placed in a room. They were each given the option to either to eat the candy or wait two hours and at the end get a second bag. Seventy percent eat the one bag right away. All the children where tracked, and the ones that waited for the second bag were found to be very successful in their career. We see from this example, how hard it is to plan for the future but, how beneficial it is.
Another example in our Parsha where there was planning for the future was when Yosef had all of Egyptians have a Bris, so when we go to Egypt no, one will question the custom. This lesson of planning for the future carries over to every aspect of ones life. For example, school, diet, money, job, buying a house and so on. I would like to address two areas to apply it to my life now.
How can I plan for the future, so that when a challenge arises I will have to tool to cope? Now, school is over and I am entering a world where I won’t have an environment with constant inspiration at my finger tips. How will I insure my closeness with Hashem and continue learning if I’m not in classroom anymore every day? Where will I get inspiration from day to day? If I act now and take all that I am learning and save it, I will have it to pull out whenever I need to use it, so that I won’t be dry of spirituality. These last twelve years I have been in school have been the tool box, but, only if I use the tool box and recognize that it is a tool box. This is one example of using the idea of the seven years of plenty before the seven years of famine. Using the seven years of plenty before the famine so that I will be ready for the famine.
The second way that I can apply the same concept of thinking into the future is, there are many people that I meet in life everyday. New people, I have many interactions with many different people and I will never know if and how I will see them again and what significances they may play in my life. Therefore I can never make enemies and have to make sure to always give a proper impression, one that I would want to leave. The lady that I meet in the store might be my mother-in-law. Someone may call a person in the community and ask about me, this is also an example of planning for the future and not just living in the moment.
So I leaned from Chumash to always plan and think into the future because I can never know what Hashem will give me.
May you start to see how much good you are given in this world. And see that you have had so many fat cows in your life, not in your dreams.....
One of the many lessons that I have learned and want to address is: What is significant in having seven years of plenty fallowed by seven years of famine in Egypt? What can I learn from this to apply to my life?
I know that Hashem always has a master plan and everything works out, even if I don’t see it, and may never see it, but, if I know that it is true I can confidently say, Hashem gives me a tool box for every challenge before the challenge begins. So what was the years of plenty/wealth? They where the tool box given from Hashem, to prepare and stock up for the years of famine, so when the years of famine come the Mizriyim will be prepared and ready to deal with the challenge head on and not die of starvation.
However, there is one important key about human nature which is that people don’t generally see the years of plenty as a tool to use those years to stock up. Instead they live in the moment and never believe that the years of famine will come around. Then, when the years of famine come they are stuck. We see from the Torah that people tend not to notice the years of plenty but, only the years of famine from the fact that the Torah writes “ The years of famine began” but fails to mention that the years of plenty began.
When a person has good she must always remember to use it and cherish every moment because it will not last, as Chazal say “the world goes round and round.” The trick in life is to use those moment toward the future and think into the future. This way when the going gets tough she will have to resources to get through it. A person will not be successful if they don’t plan for the future but live in the moment, the right here right now attitude. A person must plan for the future as Shlomo Hamelech said: “Who is smart? The one who sees into the future.”
There was once a study done on ten children, they were each given his own bag of candy and then placed in a room. They were each given the option to either to eat the candy or wait two hours and at the end get a second bag. Seventy percent eat the one bag right away. All the children where tracked, and the ones that waited for the second bag were found to be very successful in their career. We see from this example, how hard it is to plan for the future but, how beneficial it is.
Another example in our Parsha where there was planning for the future was when Yosef had all of Egyptians have a Bris, so when we go to Egypt no, one will question the custom. This lesson of planning for the future carries over to every aspect of ones life. For example, school, diet, money, job, buying a house and so on. I would like to address two areas to apply it to my life now.
How can I plan for the future, so that when a challenge arises I will have to tool to cope? Now, school is over and I am entering a world where I won’t have an environment with constant inspiration at my finger tips. How will I insure my closeness with Hashem and continue learning if I’m not in classroom anymore every day? Where will I get inspiration from day to day? If I act now and take all that I am learning and save it, I will have it to pull out whenever I need to use it, so that I won’t be dry of spirituality. These last twelve years I have been in school have been the tool box, but, only if I use the tool box and recognize that it is a tool box. This is one example of using the idea of the seven years of plenty before the seven years of famine. Using the seven years of plenty before the famine so that I will be ready for the famine.
The second way that I can apply the same concept of thinking into the future is, there are many people that I meet in life everyday. New people, I have many interactions with many different people and I will never know if and how I will see them again and what significances they may play in my life. Therefore I can never make enemies and have to make sure to always give a proper impression, one that I would want to leave. The lady that I meet in the store might be my mother-in-law. Someone may call a person in the community and ask about me, this is also an example of planning for the future and not just living in the moment.
So I leaned from Chumash to always plan and think into the future because I can never know what Hashem will give me.
May you start to see how much good you are given in this world. And see that you have had so many fat cows in your life, not in your dreams.....
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