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!)

Apple of my eye

My cute adorable mature little brother noticed that I seemed awfully busy and tired last night.

He cut me an apple for my lunch because he didn’t think I would have time to do it myself.

We train ‘em young!

Also a thank you to the girl who struck up a conversation with me and ended up providing some useful school advice.

And a huge thank you to the girl who asked why I looked so sad. Truth is, the thought of a test tomorrow, followed by a weekend of Pesach cleaning, was making me feel a bit worn out. Her thoughtful attention went a long way towards perking me back up.

A thank you to everyone who made my day better!

Door to Door service. Driven by G-d

If you don’t already know who I am, dear friends, this post will seal the deal for sure. This happened some time last year.

I love my high school. In fact, one of the things I dislike the most is how long it takes me to get there. Mornings, for various reasons, are shorter, but the average for an evening (no snow!) is an hour. 45-50 minutes on the bus, and then a short walk home. (Ten minutes if I’m fast, and 15 if I’m feeling lazy!)

And one day, we had a driver who doesn’t usually drive our route. For some reason, the girl at the very last stop wasn’t there that day. And, inexplicably, that it was somehow ok to drop me closer to my home, and double back to the original route. Not something that could happen every day, the driver stressed. But for some reason, today was ok. Today was also the day where I had almost literally fallen asleep multiple times. I couldn’t face the walk home, and I wasn’t able to get a ride.

I asked to be dropped at the end of my street. I was dropped right by my front door. “Hashem loves you.” Said the driver.

I heartily agree.

He’s not standing right at our side where we can see. We are riding on His shoulders.

Thinking about others

Play breakout was at our school  this week. I got a fairly minor part, but this isn’t about me.

Even though I had promised myself that I wouldn’t get upset, that for various reasons a big part wouldn’t be practical for me, and that if I was honest, I simply couldn’t act well enough, it did hurt a little. The mains are well, so amazing. Really cool this year. You know what I mean- if our play was a 5000 page novel, I’d read it just for them.

So when someone, (not a close friend but I’m working on getting along with her,) asked me what part I had, I couldn’t keep a slight note of regret out of my voice.

She told me what I’d been telling myself all along, but she made it seem real. “You know, it’s really the little parts that make a difference. They’re the ones everyone remembers. In Aladdin, the genie has an even smaller part than the tiger. But without him, there would be no story.” Of course, I’m paraphrasing, but how could I remember something so perfect word for word?

I thanked her for her sincere words and walked away, remembering that at least I got a part at all. And it wasn’t even just two lines. And then I remembered something.

“So, what about you? What part did you get?”

“Oh, me? I’m (insert main part here.)”


Thank you- no, thank YOU

I e-mailed someone- an artist who put his work up for public use- to let them know that I had used their creation, and really enjoyed it. I tried to be as positive and cheerful as I could without writing something sounding like hero warship. Convinced I had something that was polite but still enthusiastic, I sent it off.

A day or two later, I got my reply. Polite and gracious, of course, but also very very cheerful. It really did sound as though my few kind words had made this person’s day.

And hearing that another person so appreciated what I had to say (even though most of it was one long compliment, so I should hope it was appreciated!) had me float on air the entire day.

It drove home again the lesson about giving to others. A bit of a sobering thought, but it’s true: Ultimately, at the end of our lives, the only things that we still can call our own are what we’ve given to the world.

Possessions- handed down or thrown away. One’s house, car, money- the best one can hope is that it’s given to family, or to a good cause.

Talent- what good is latent talent if it’s never used? Everything that you’ve been able to do and haven’t- what value does it now have?

Achievements- did you spend your life chasing good deeds? Or recognition?

But the kindness that a person does is passed forward forever. A ripple effect that never fades.

The sound of forgetfulness

There’s a fellow in my neighbourhood who enjoys making music. No big deal, right?

What about instrument practice at night, when most people are trying to sleep, outdoors, facing my window, and LOUD! One night I had enough and went up to ask a family member if there was anything I could do. On the way up, I remembered that I’d forgotten to take tonight’s dose of medicine. And on the way back down- having commiserated with the other side window person and agreed that there was nothing really we could do- I remembered that I hadn’t set my alarm yet!

So, if you’re reading this- you know who you are- please don’t keep it up! But just this once, I owe you a thank you!