Man plans…

Man plans and G-d laughs

“Yiddish Proverb”

Based on some ‘field research’ done this week, I’m no longer so sure about that one. I think it probably goes more like this.

Man plans, and G-d sighs

Why? Somehow, I don’t think G-d laughs at us when He changes our plans and gives us the opportunity to learn lessons we would never have met in our ordinary lives. He sighs, not because He’s worried if we will learn or not– He already knows the outcome. But we don’t. He sighs because He recognizes that it’s hard for us us down here. We have great and noble plans and sometimes, they fall through. He knows that this can shake us and frustrate us. They can shake us so much that we loose the message in our frustration. He sighs as He watches our plans fall through and He only laughs when He sees us pick ourselves back up again and move on- with us, not at us.

Shimshon’s Siyata D’shmayah

Some frequent readers will remember my now not-so-recent haircut. After two comments people independently made on the very day I was trying to decide about growing it out, I decided to keep it that way. Right now, it’s kind of long and shaggy, but boy am I glad I didn’t cut it yet.

We went to my grandmother’s apartment, the grand family meeting place, today to visit a relative who’d just flown in. Halfway through the trip, I sat on the sofa behind the window. Then I ran my fingers through my hair. (No, that’s not the cause of the limp shagginess, though it’s probably not helping much.) To check, I did it again.

“Hey, my hair is wet!”

“It was raining out before.” I hadn’t been out in three hours. Not to mention that it was only the last half inch of my hair finely speckled with mist.

I turned around to check if maybe the window had been left open. I found a four inch diameter puddle of water on the windowsill– and the window was shut. My parents came to check. To make a long story short, a wet windowsill is a small problem when the entire back wall is sopping.

As much as this sounds like an unlikely way to find the issue, the chances of it being found any other way were even smaller. Thank you G-d, for long limp hair!

But for the grace of G-d

Thank You, thank You, thank You G-d!

It’s a miracle– I can’t explain it. My sewing machine has been malfunctioning for months. Nothing worked– teffilah (prayer) (always a good first step), adjustments, larger stitches, smaller stitches, a new needle– nothing!

Out of the blue, it started working perfectly. I hope (and pray) that it will stay that way! I have kavod Yom Tov to make!


An even bigger and greater thank You for another huge miracle. In this post, I mentioned the name Tuvia Avraham ben Chaya Zisha– Rabbi Meister. In a chance so unlikely it must be the hand of G-d, he is doing a hundred times better. Baruch Hashem! Im Yirtzeh Hashem, he will have a complete recovery soon.

If you davened (also means prayed)  for him, then thank YOU! You literally made my day– and most definitely his.

(The full story is in last week’s Mishpacha Magazine, for those who are interested.)

Coincidence? I think not

Today

  1. I had to be home at a certain time so that I could go back out again a few minutes later. Don’t ask.
  2. The bus got caught in minor traffic and was a few minutes late.
  3. As I texted my father, who was meant to meet me outside of shul, to please wait one more minute, the cellphone unexpectedly died, and refused to turn back on for even one more message.
  4. My father had an errand to run and left shul much faster than usual.
  5. I rushed to shul. My father’s car was not in the parking lot, so I went in to ask the Rav if I could call my parents and let them know I would be a few minutes late.

Then what happened?

  1. The Rav told me that he’d seen my father not a minute ago, and went out to check the curb where, unknown to me, he sometimes parks.
  2. My father had just pulled away.
  3. Another Rav, whom I’d never met before, instantly asked where I was going until I gave up on saying that I really could walk on my own as long as my parents were called.
  4. Not only did he drive me home, he spent the entire ride telling me that it wasn’t out of his way, it was meant to be, and how on earth could I deprive him of the opportunity to do a mitzvah.
  5. Meanwhile, the Rav of the Shul called my parents to explain what happened and that I would be home safe soon.
  6. TODAH RABAH

Today was a day with many chasdai Hashem, some revealed and glorious, some hidden and painful. I am immensely grateful to all those who gave the day its glory and gave honour to Hashem.

Yom Ha’Zikaron

We just watched a video of the funeral of one of the soldiers who was killed this summer during the war. One soldier. One soldier, a huge void in the world. And there are sixty six more. And all the civilians. And the people who’ve died to terror attacks, unspeakable tragedies that should never have happened.

If G-d allowed it to happen, then it must be good. Why does it hurt so much?

For me, it’s not just human pain, but guilt. These are the pains before Moshiach, but they are not inevitable. They are to wake us up and bring us together. If we were already there, the pain we now feel, the pain of mothers and fathers and sisters and fiancees and brothers and wives and children, might not have happened.

Maybe this is what G-d intended. Guilt, however crushing, is not the answer.

All we need to do is to remember the pain. Remember how we feel when our nation is attacked. Remember that pain every time you forget the value a single soul has. Remember this pain EVERY TIME you encounter another Jew. Treat them as though the fate of the world, the fate of every human being, rests on how you treat this person.

Because it does.

So Inspired

Read the original here, or look below. A thank you to the owner of Mevakesh Lev for giving open permission to me to share such posts.

Mizmor Li-toda!

With gratitude to and with the help of Hashem Yisborach, I have reached the milestone of 2000 recorded shiurim on line. I say this not to boast [for arrogance makes one smelly and I don’t want to be that] but to thank Hashem and the countless people who have been listening and reading over the last 9 years since I entered the world wide web.I often have my doubts and hesitations as to whether it is the right thing to be part of the Internet world because as we know, רובא דרובא דרובא דרובא – the vast-vast majority of the Internet is at best dvarim betialim, frivolous matters, and all too often much-much worse, but I hope that Hashem has nachas ruach from my attempt to try to add Torah and Kedusha to the many who are there anyway.Money

Besides the benefit of spreading Torah that I already mentioned, there is another benefit – money. Lots of money.

Meaning – I get paid zero-zilcho-efes-kloom for all of the Torah that I spread and that is the way it should be. Torah is NOT a means to earn a living – it is too holy for that. Those who take money in order to learn and teach Torah only do so in order to save themselves and families from starvation. When not necessary, it should not be done. So it is very gratifying that after years of having to take a [albeit miniscule] salary for teaching Torah, the Internet afforded me an opportunity to teach for nothing. Or better – for nothing material but for everything spiritual.

So I want to pray to Hashem that He, in His infinite mercy, allows me to continue being involved in Torah day and night שלא על מנת לקבל פרס.

I would be remiss if I didn’t thank the many who appreciate my efforts and have been helping me in my efforts to spread Torah and light, especially for the last four years since I left yeshiva.

So thank you Hashem and thank you beloved friends. Many of you I know personally and many-many more I don’t, but I thank and love you all.

Bi-ahava,
Me 

Sunny day…

Thank you, G-d!

I thought it was an absolute miracle that the school was silent today at lunch. Turns out, it was just gorgeous weather outside, chasing girls out even from  the locker room to bask in the sunshine.

Thanks to the peace and quiet, I was able to recharge a little from yesterday’s gym class, and finally clean out my locker.

Thank you!

(And lest you think this is something to be overlooked– lunch break in my school resembles recess in second grade. Lovely, lively girls!)

I miss it already

Pesach has only been over for a little while here in the disporia, but I miss it already.

If you knew me well, you wouldn’t believe it. Since I’m unable to eat the Pesach staple, potatoes, in the quantities they are presented to us during the Holiday, I found myself scrambling for alternatives at most meals. Between the late nights and deciding that I could survive a week without Pesach-dik sleeping medication, it was a tired and headache-y week.

I couldn’t write (not even for my homework.) Nor could I sew. Most of my friends were out of town. Sounds like a real treat, right?

So why am I crying? (Believe me, it’s not just a mound of dishes and the start of school on my mind.)

G-d gave us Pesach as a special gift. And I want it back! Incomprehensibly. In spite of everything. Though I look forward to a Mincha at school and I know good things aren’t meant to last. I still irrationally wish for just one more day. (After all, I spent most of the last ones in bed.)

Yours, incoherently tired and looking forward to Shavout,

Mimi

A (great) long day

Due to ‘the ministry required limit for a private daycare’ or something along those lines, my brother’s special needs preschool can take him for half a day five days a week– three times for the morning and two times for the afternoon. Whatever the time, the kid has a ball and my mother gets a much needed break.

Today, just in time to kasher (think spot removal meets sanitize with corrosive chemicals) the kitchen, she got six full hours off.

Why? One of the kids in my brother’s class had already gone on vacation, leaving an ‘extra space.’

The wonderful staff volunteered to host him the extra half day so that he could attend the mock Seder. Beyond amazing!

Acceptance with Love

“Does anyone know where I put my book down?”

“Were you holding it when you went to chase Mendy*?” (*henceforth the pseudonym for the 2 1/2 year old boy)

Mendy heard me. “Me?”

“You.”

“Yay!!!!”

This reminds me of something I once learned about the famous prophet Yeshayah (Issiah.) One of the things that gave him the merit to have so much positivity in a time of historic darkness was that he accepted what G-d wanted from him with joy and happiness.

Mendy, so young and sweet, was just genuinely happy to be… Mendy. In spite of the hardships he faces. Maybe this is something we could all learn from.

Have a wonderful and peaceful Shabbat!