I wrote this poem seven years ago. I still remember sitting on a bench on Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn, taking out my notebook and writing.
The message is still relevant now as it was when I wrote it.
Read and be inspired!
Why I Cry
I look up at
The deep blue sky
And slowly
Teardrops
Form in my eyes
And I
Begin to cry
Why?
Why do I cry?
I cry because
When I am in pain
When I am hurting
I know how to cry
It's almost...easy
The tears just come
When I am overwhelmed
By...my life
By...my struggles
By...my challenges
By...my difficulties
I know how to cry
Those tears
Spring forth from my eyes
So why?
Is it so hard to cry?
When the month of Av
Comes around
And I should be thinking
Feeling
Hashem's pain
Hashem's loss
Our pain
Our loss
A house that once was
A nation that once was
The glory that once was
A relationship that once was
Why?
Why can't I cry?
Why don't I feel the pain
Why is it
So hard to feel
To make it real
To me?
When I'm having it hard
When someone hurts me
Those tears flow
So freely
When I'm simply taken over
Overwhelmed
By so many little things
And sometimes
Sometimes bigger things
I can cry
Easily
But...Hashem's pain?!
The thought of the kosel
The thought of the shechina in galus
The thought of all that we are missing?
Why doesn't that make me cry?
As simply
As effortlessly
As easily
As my own pain?
As my own life?
Hashem...?
I lift my eyes
Up to Your skies
I think about
Things
Close to me
That hurt me
That touch me
That inspire me
To cry
And I realize...
They are all connected.
It may be easier
For me
To shed tears
Over personal losses
Over personal hurts
Over personal frustrations
Over...my personal life
And I see
I understand
That it all comes from
The same place
A place of emotion
A place of longing
Of yearning
And of hoping
So...although I may not
Be able to cry
Shed real tears
Over bigger losses
Bigger pain
Deeper losses
Deeper pain
I know...
That inside
My heart is crying
And Hashem
Who is bochain libos u'chelayos
Who knows
Who sees
And Who understands
The inner workings
The inner chambers
Of my heart
He knows
He sees
And He understands
The inner sigh
The inner cry
Even
Without
Real tears.
I lift up my eyes
Look up at the shimmering blue sky
Searching
Yearning
Hoping
And...yes.
Crying
Without real tears
But I cry inside
And Hashem
Understands
Why
I cry.
May we reach the day of u'macha Hashem dim'ah mei'al kol panim. Amen.
Showing posts with label Tears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tears. Show all posts
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Tisha B'Av
During the nine days, the rules we keep are similar to the halachos of someone who mourns the loss of a close relative. We don't listen to music and we don't wear fresh clothing.
But on Tisha B'av, the mourning intensifies to another level. We don't eat or drink, we don't wear leather shoes and we don't greet people with a warm hello. When someone loses a loved one, they don't have an appetite and they don't feel like greeting everyone they meet. They miss their relative and nothing else matters!
This is why we fast.
On Tisha B'av, we mourn the loss of the closest relationship we once had with Hashem. How can we eat when we are so far away from the ideal lifestyle? We use the sadness of the day to propel us to make better choices so we can experience that same closeness once again.
May the confusion and distance we live with be replaced with clarity and closeness as we do everything in our power to bring the Geula!
But on Tisha B'av, the mourning intensifies to another level. We don't eat or drink, we don't wear leather shoes and we don't greet people with a warm hello. When someone loses a loved one, they don't have an appetite and they don't feel like greeting everyone they meet. They miss their relative and nothing else matters!
This is why we fast.
On Tisha B'av, we mourn the loss of the closest relationship we once had with Hashem. How can we eat when we are so far away from the ideal lifestyle? We use the sadness of the day to propel us to make better choices so we can experience that same closeness once again.
May the confusion and distance we live with be replaced with clarity and closeness as we do everything in our power to bring the Geula!
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, April 10, 2018
Dear Father of Mine
The following poem was written by a friend, B.K., and I'm posting it with her permission.
Dear father of mine
To you I cry and sigh
Tear after tear
Hoping you do hear
I scream and yell to you
Maybe something it will do
I stand here with great pain
Pain so intense, could go insane
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
It’s hard to understand
You left us Behind in the sand
It’s hard to go on
Feel like a part of me is gone
How many more will you take
How can this be for the good of their sake
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
Engaged to be wed
And now their dead
So fresh so young
And for them a grave was dug
I can ask why a million times
And come up with neither answer nor find
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
Is this truly life
Full of crime and strife
Days filled with anger and sadness
People shooting with madness
Death signs all over
People with faces so sober
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
For all those who have died
For parents walking around red eyed
For teens so lost
Sick kids full of exhaust
So many battles fought each day
Yet so pure they never complain
Dear father of mine
The sun does still shine
I know one day I will look back
See things in white not black
One day I’ll understand why
You made us cry
Why we went through so much hurt
Trying to find you amongst the dirt
Dear father of mine
All these suffering are the sign
The time for redemption has arrived
The Jewish nation please do revive
Glorify your name
Your place in this world acclaim
Being moshiach now
The goyim to you will all bow
Dear father of mine....
I will continue to cry and sigh..
Dear father of mine
To you I cry and sigh
Tear after tear
Hoping you do hear
I scream and yell to you
Maybe something it will do
I stand here with great pain
Pain so intense, could go insane
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
It’s hard to understand
You left us Behind in the sand
It’s hard to go on
Feel like a part of me is gone
How many more will you take
How can this be for the good of their sake
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
Engaged to be wed
And now their dead
So fresh so young
And for them a grave was dug
I can ask why a million times
And come up with neither answer nor find
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
Is this truly life
Full of crime and strife
Days filled with anger and sadness
People shooting with madness
Death signs all over
People with faces so sober
Dear father of mine
I cry and sigh
For all those who have died
For parents walking around red eyed
For teens so lost
Sick kids full of exhaust
So many battles fought each day
Yet so pure they never complain
Dear father of mine
The sun does still shine
I know one day I will look back
See things in white not black
One day I’ll understand why
You made us cry
Why we went through so much hurt
Trying to find you amongst the dirt
Dear father of mine
All these suffering are the sign
The time for redemption has arrived
The Jewish nation please do revive
Glorify your name
Your place in this world acclaim
Being moshiach now
The goyim to you will all bow
Dear father of mine....
I will continue to cry and sigh..
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Stay Strong
Life is so full
And empty too
Life is undefined
It's up to you
To give it meaning
Or lose it all
Life must be lived
Don't let yourself fall
There's so much possibility
In this life
So much creativity
For your life
You have inner talent
Covered up by stuff
Stuff people told you
You think you're not enough
You've got what it takes
To live this life
But you think you can't make
Yourself a better life
You're falling down
Because of what you've been through
You have to remember
You'll get through this too
You can't let yourself
Be dragged way down
You're stronger than that
Get rid of that frown
Gotta turn it around dear
Face your fears
Yes, this life is scary
But don't be wary
You've got strengths hidden
Deep inside you
Gotta uncover it
That's the truth
Face each day with a smile
Even if it's fake
Because one day you'll see
No one can break
You
Because you fought so hard
That it became part of you
That fake smile
Went that mile
And now it's real
And no one can steal
That true satisfaction
Away from you
The satisfaction
Of victory
Of not giving in
Never claim defeat
And then you'll truly win
Even if you feel
That life's knocking you down
Fight back harder
Don't let yourself drown
In tears
Or fears
About the coming years
Live in the present
One day at a time
One foot in front of the other
That's the way to shine
Don't think too far ahead
Just about today
Live life slowly
That's the way
To succeed
To overcome
This challenge so great
It's also the way
You'll become great
Don't get pulled into pettiness
Keep your priorities straight
Lift your head up high
And don't you wait
To find moments in your day
When you can rise above
Your heart will expand
And you'll feel self love
A genuine feeling
When you do what's right
A deep, inner peace
No one knows this fight
The battle that you win
Gives you true satisfaction
You're filled with glory
You deserve a crown
Though it's not publicized
You no longer feel down
And every single time
You do another little act
You get this good feeling
You're on the right track
This is a good path
A path of self love
A path where you can grow
Going up and up above
Above where you were yesterday
Because you keep on growing
And then the good feelings
They will keep on flowing
You're heading in the right direction
You're going for a ride
Because you know that real true happiness
Is only found inside
And you and I both know
That's what you're looking for
In this life so complicated
You'll find it that I'm sure
As long as you continue on this journey in this way
And keep finding little opportunities every single day
To work on your character
And the person who you are
One little step at a time
You'll shine just like a star
Although all around it is dark
Remember this one thing
If you shine a little brighter
Inner happiness you'll bring
Into your life
And into your heart
You know exactly
Where you need to start
So take these opportunities
Each day as they come
And you'll see slowly
The person you become
Through this life so challenging
You can be the one
To give it meaning
It might not be easy some days
You might want to give up
But if you stay strong
You'll be able to
Live this up
Infuse yourself with strength
Tell yourself you can
And then you really will
Follow through with your plan
Your plan of growth and change
Of winning battles and wars
You'll make me proud
Of that I'm sure!
So keep that fight
Use all your might
And stay strong
I know you'll prove them wrong
All those voices in your head
That tell you it's too much
Quiet them once and for all
With your own special touch
And then you'll come out on the top
Because you gave it all you've got
And one day soon you'll look back and say
I am so proud of how far I've come
I came such a long way
I know you can do this
I believe in you
And deep down I hope
You do too
Stay strong
Keep fighting
Keep pushing through
You've been through so much
And you'll get through this too.
And empty too
Life is undefined
It's up to you
To give it meaning
Or lose it all
Life must be lived
Don't let yourself fall
There's so much possibility
In this life
So much creativity
For your life
You have inner talent
Covered up by stuff
Stuff people told you
You think you're not enough
You've got what it takes
To live this life
But you think you can't make
Yourself a better life
You're falling down
Because of what you've been through
You have to remember
You'll get through this too
You can't let yourself
Be dragged way down
You're stronger than that
Get rid of that frown
Gotta turn it around dear
Face your fears
Yes, this life is scary
But don't be wary
You've got strengths hidden
Deep inside you
Gotta uncover it
That's the truth
Face each day with a smile
Even if it's fake
Because one day you'll see
No one can break
You
Because you fought so hard
That it became part of you
That fake smile
Went that mile
And now it's real
And no one can steal
That true satisfaction
Away from you
The satisfaction
Of victory
Of not giving in
Never claim defeat
And then you'll truly win
Even if you feel
That life's knocking you down
Fight back harder
Don't let yourself drown
In tears
Or fears
About the coming years
Live in the present
One day at a time
One foot in front of the other
That's the way to shine
Don't think too far ahead
Just about today
Live life slowly
That's the way
To succeed
To overcome
This challenge so great
It's also the way
You'll become great
Don't get pulled into pettiness
Keep your priorities straight
Lift your head up high
And don't you wait
To find moments in your day
When you can rise above
Your heart will expand
And you'll feel self love
A genuine feeling
When you do what's right
A deep, inner peace
No one knows this fight
The battle that you win
Gives you true satisfaction
You're filled with glory
You deserve a crown
Though it's not publicized
You no longer feel down
And every single time
You do another little act
You get this good feeling
You're on the right track
This is a good path
A path of self love
A path where you can grow
Going up and up above
Above where you were yesterday
Because you keep on growing
And then the good feelings
They will keep on flowing
You're heading in the right direction
You're going for a ride
Because you know that real true happiness
Is only found inside
And you and I both know
That's what you're looking for
In this life so complicated
You'll find it that I'm sure
As long as you continue on this journey in this way
And keep finding little opportunities every single day
To work on your character
And the person who you are
One little step at a time
You'll shine just like a star
Although all around it is dark
Remember this one thing
If you shine a little brighter
Inner happiness you'll bring
Into your life
And into your heart
You know exactly
Where you need to start
So take these opportunities
Each day as they come
And you'll see slowly
The person you become
Through this life so challenging
You can be the one
To give it meaning
It might not be easy some days
You might want to give up
But if you stay strong
You'll be able to
Live this up
Infuse yourself with strength
Tell yourself you can
And then you really will
Follow through with your plan
Your plan of growth and change
Of winning battles and wars
You'll make me proud
Of that I'm sure!
So keep that fight
Use all your might
And stay strong
I know you'll prove them wrong
All those voices in your head
That tell you it's too much
Quiet them once and for all
With your own special touch
And then you'll come out on the top
Because you gave it all you've got
And one day soon you'll look back and say
I am so proud of how far I've come
I came such a long way
I know you can do this
I believe in you
And deep down I hope
You do too
Stay strong
Keep fighting
Keep pushing through
You've been through so much
And you'll get through this too.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Why I Cry
I posted this before...and I want to share it with you again.
I look up at
The deep blue sky
And slowly
Teardrops
Form in my eyes
And I
Begin to cry
Why?
Why do I cry?
I cry because
When I am in pain
When I am hurting
I know how to cry
It's almost...easy
The tears just come
When I am overwhelmed
By...my life
By...my struggles
By...my challenges
By...my difficulties
I know how to cry
Those tears
Spring forth from my eyes
So why?
Is it so hard to cry?
When the month of Av
Comes around
And I should be thinking
Feeling
Hashem's pain
Hashem's loss
Our pain
Our loss
A house that once was
A nation that once was
The glory that once was
A relationship that once was
Why?
Why can't I cry?
Why don't I feel the pain
Why is it
So hard to feel
To make it real
To me?
When I'm having it hard
When someone hurts me
Those tears flow
So freely
When I'm simply taken over
Overwhelmed
By so many little things
And sometimes
Sometimes bigger things
I can cry
Easily
But...Hashem's pain?!
The thought of the kosel
The thought of the shechina in galus
The thought of all that we are missing?
Why doesn't that make me cry?
As simply
As effortlessly
As easily
As my own pain?
As my own life?
Hashem...?
I lift my eyes
Up to Your skies
I think about
Things
Close to me
That hurt me
That touch me
That inspire me
To cry
And I realize...
They are all connected.
It may be easier
For me
To shed tears
Over personal losses
Over personal hurts
Over personal frustrations
Over...my personal life
And I see
I understand
That it all comes from
The same place
A place of emotion
A place of longing
Of yearning
And of hoping
So...although I may not
Be able to cry
Shed real tears
Over bigger losses
Bigger pain
Deeper losses
Deeper pain
I know...
That inside
My heart is crying
And Hashem
Who is bochain libos u'chelayos
Who knows
Who sees
And Who understands
The inner workings
The inner chambers
Of my heart
He knows
He sees
And He understands
The inner sigh
The inner cry
Even
Without
Real tears.
I lift up my eyes
Look up at the shimmering blue sky
Searching
Yearning
Hoping
And...yes.
Crying
Without real tears
But I cry inside
And Hashem
Understands
Why
I cry.
I look up at
The deep blue sky
And slowly
Teardrops
Form in my eyes
And I
Begin to cry
Why?
Why do I cry?
I cry because
When I am in pain
When I am hurting
I know how to cry
It's almost...easy
The tears just come
When I am overwhelmed
By...my life
By...my struggles
By...my challenges
By...my difficulties
I know how to cry
Those tears
Spring forth from my eyes
So why?
Is it so hard to cry?
When the month of Av
Comes around
And I should be thinking
Feeling
Hashem's pain
Hashem's loss
Our pain
Our loss
A house that once was
A nation that once was
The glory that once was
A relationship that once was
Why?
Why can't I cry?
Why don't I feel the pain
Why is it
So hard to feel
To make it real
To me?
When I'm having it hard
When someone hurts me
Those tears flow
So freely
When I'm simply taken over
Overwhelmed
By so many little things
And sometimes
Sometimes bigger things
I can cry
Easily
But...Hashem's pain?!
The thought of the kosel
The thought of the shechina in galus
The thought of all that we are missing?
Why doesn't that make me cry?
As simply
As effortlessly
As easily
As my own pain?
As my own life?
Hashem...?
I lift my eyes
Up to Your skies
I think about
Things
Close to me
That hurt me
That touch me
That inspire me
To cry
And I realize...
They are all connected.
It may be easier
For me
To shed tears
Over personal losses
Over personal hurts
Over personal frustrations
Over...my personal life
And I see
I understand
That it all comes from
The same place
A place of emotion
A place of longing
Of yearning
And of hoping
So...although I may not
Be able to cry
Shed real tears
Over bigger losses
Bigger pain
Deeper losses
Deeper pain
I know...
That inside
My heart is crying
And Hashem
Who is bochain libos u'chelayos
Who knows
Who sees
And Who understands
The inner workings
The inner chambers
Of my heart
He knows
He sees
And He understands
The inner sigh
The inner cry
Even
Without
Real tears.
I lift up my eyes
Look up at the shimmering blue sky
Searching
Yearning
Hoping
And...yes.
Crying
Without real tears
But I cry inside
And Hashem
Understands
Why
I cry.
May we reach the day of u'macha Hashem dim'ah mei'al kol panim. Amen.
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