Sorry, no post

Baruch Hashem, I've had a busy last week or so. What with tisha b'av, and then weddings every night, plus working full time (or as full time as I'm able with all these weddings :) ), I haven't had much time to think, let alone write up a post. Bli neder, I'll be back soon when I have time to breathe.

Until then, oif simchos!

Rashi's Wife

I'm scared of marriage.

There.

I've said it.

I'm scared of the responsibility that comes with wifehood.  The power that a wife has over her husband. The power to make or break him.

I want to marry someone in learning who will stay in learning ... for a while. How long that while will be will depend on him and me and the choices we will make together. But when I think about the future, when I picture myself with a nameless, faceless man at my side, I don't see him in kolel.

I see him working. As what? That's up to him. When? That's up to us. But definitely someday.

So when a bochur is redt to me, and he's a top learner, a true masmid, about whom people say that he could be the next gadol hador or Rosh Yeshiva, I get scared.

He may have the potential to be the next Rashi, but do I have the potential to be the next Rashi's wife?

And when I think about a marriage between me and this type of bachur, I think about the story of the Netziv as a boy. He had almost been apprenticed to a shoemaker. That night, he had a dream that he was in shamayim and saw the sefer HaAmek Davar with him as the author. When he told the malachim that he hadn't written this sefer, they asked him "Why not?" He decided to stay in yeshiva so that he would learn enough to write the sefer he was destined to write.

I'm scared to be the "apprentice-ship" of my future husband. Scared that I'll pull him away from learning and becoming the best he can be.

"חכמות נשים, בנתה ביתה; ואולת, בידיה תהרסנו"

Will I build?

Or c"v,  destroy?

♪ Happy Blogoversary to me ♪

Today's my blogoversary, so I'll reward my patient readers with an extra post this week.  Don't get your hopes up - it's not much of anything.

First of all, I came across a beautiful post by Rachel Simon, author of one of my favorite books Riding the Bus with my Sister - for special sibs, it's a must-read. I first heard about it at the Yachad family shabbaton when I was in 12th grade, and it went a long way to helping me accept my sister and myself as who we are. I actually corresponded with the author once or twice.

Second, I wanted to remind you of a post long ago relegated to the archives - my first real post, actually. I just reread it and was surprised at its profundity. Let me know what you think (here or there).

Third, I wanted to reflect on what I've gained in the last year of blogging. I've definitely matured as a writer and thinker. My musings make more sense, have more validity, even in my own head. Sharing with all of you has really given me the means to refine myself, and I truly appreciate all of my readers - whoever they may be.

So, keep those comments coming, and stay tuned for next week's post!

Sharing in Simcha

Another friend of mine - a really close one - got engaged last night.

She called me up before it was official to share the amazing news (what's with that btw? why do people need to know before it's official? But that's another rant...). When my cell phone rang, and I saw it was her, I thought for a second "She never calls me - she must be engaged." Then I remembered that this particular girl does call me relatively often and disregarded that errant thought.

After she told me that she gets a mazel tov but before I had a chance to respond, I waited for the pain.

I waited for the bittersweet happiness that I felt the last time a friend of mine got engaged, but it never did.

I was thinking about it last night as I was on a total high for her - almost more excited than she was - and trying to keep the news from my parents (unsuccessfully) and our other friends (managed to do so by staying far away from them...).  Why is it that the news of this other girl's engagement hurt, but this news didn't? Why was I able to keep my simcha for this friend complete, but the joy for the other was mixed with pain?

And I realized that a close friend getting engaged is very different than a girl--you-kinda-know-because-you're-neighbors/classmates/coworkers-but aren't-really friends-with getting engaged.

The girl you kinda know is just another number. She's just another girl who's getting engaged before you. Another girl that you have to smile at and wish mazel tov to when all you want is to be the kallah yourself. Not necessarily with her chosson, but just to have found the right one and be finished with the waiting.

But a close friend is totally different. You don't see her age or status when she gets engaged. All you see is her happiness, her joy at finding that special someone. And you're just so happy for her, there's no room for any sadness.

It's all about the difference between an individual and a statistic, between a friend and number.

Now, I can only speak for myself when I say this, but it seems to me that if I would be able to see everyone as my siblings - which they truly are - wouldn't that lessen the interminable pain of my own wait?

So, maybe I was wrong before.

Maybe it's not the difference between an individual and a statistic.

Maybe it's the difference between an acquaintance ... and a sister.

Waiting

When I was in seminary, we were given the classic "shidduchim" talk. Among other things, we were warned that it might not come easy. While we all knew older singles, human mentality is to think that such a thing could never happen to me.

How wrong we are...

I'm not an "older" girl. I'm just 21. But still - I feel the pressure of being single when most of my seminary friends are already married with their first child born or on the way. I feel left out when they talk of husbands, and I dream of what I'll look like when it's my turn to wear white.

But things take time.

During that same seminary talk about shidduchim, they gave out a story by an "older" girl. I don't know who she is, nor how old she was when she wrote this. The teacher who gave it out did say that she's gotten married since she wrote it. I have gotten chizuk from it numerous times over the last 2 years, and now I share it with you. I hope this introduction serves as giving credit where credit is due.

Now, I give you The Waiting Room.

T'fila L'Parnasa

I don't remember where I heard this story, but I'm pretty sure it's true. I may have embellished it a little.

Yaakov was learning in kollel. Every week, all the men of the kollel would line up in front of the Rosh Yeshiva, and he would pass out their checks. And every week, the check would have the same amount - just enough for Yaakov to support his family. One particular week, Yaakov got in line as usual.  Somehow, as the Rosh Yeshiva was passing out the check, he skipped over Yaakov. When Yaakov asked the Rosh Yeshiva why he was skipped, the Rosh Yeshiva was very surprised. He said that he never missed a kollelman, so Yaakov must have done something that caused this confusion. After a great deal of thought, it came out that Yaakov had been so reliant on the kollel's check, had taken it so for granted, that he had stopped saying the T'fila L'Parnasa during the bracha Shema Koleinu in Shmoneh Esreh.

I just made the same mistake.

I have been temping at an office. When I had my interview there, they basically told me that after I finished the temp work, I would be given a real, permanent job. I took it so for granted, I didn't see the need to daven for a job.  I already had one.

But no.

Hakadosh Baruch Hu is the one who determines who will have parnasa, and who won't. Who will have a job, and who will not. There are no assurances in this life - about anything. Shidduchim, parnasa, health, etc. Hashem gives us everything, and if we are not deserving - if we don't appreciate and acknowledge where our plentitude comes from - He can take it all away.

And davening is the only way to get it back.

Women in the Workplace

I recently started working in a non-Jewish environment, and I've become worried about the effect it may have on me and the various shailos that come up on a daily basis. Does anyone know of any shiurim that I can download or articles/books I can read (besides for 9 to 5) that discuss it. Thanks so much.

Hard Times

You’re going through a hard time
How hard, I barely knew
I thought you could reach for me
So I didn’t reach for you

You needed me to stick by you
To lend my solid strength
I thought you could stand alone
That that’s what your distance meant

You needed a friend who could
Give to you of herself
But I spent my time only thinking
And dreaming of myself

I didn’t have the courage
To be who you needed me to be
I did what needed to be done
At best, half-heartedly

I didn’t have the koach [strength]
To be strong all the time
I didn’t feel a reason
To put myself on the line

I gave up on you just a little
Enough to dull my pain
At thinking of you struggling
At thinking of your pain

You’re going through a hard time
Harder than I knew
You aren’t able to reach for me
So I’ll have to reach for you

Cleanliness and Miracles

I'm not a particularly neat person by nature, but I'm not exactly the messiest girl on the block. But I, like most other people, work better in a neat environment.

For ages, my room has looked like it was struck by a hurricane. The number of times I attempted to clean it up are too numerous to count. A very good friend of mine came over with her sister in a last ditch attempt to get my room straightened out. They left me, after four hours, to a cleaned room with last instructions that were to be filled that night.

I followed their instructions, and I went to bed that night smiling. For days afterward, I smiled every time I stepped foot into my room. My day wasn't going so well, that's OK – my room was clean; I wasn't feeling well – my room was a haven to heal my sickness. No matter what went wrong, my room was the panacea.

After a while, I noticed a strange phenomenon: I didn't smile every time I came into my room. The sight of the swept floor and vacuumed rugs did not inspire joy. The neatness of my bookshelves and bed didn't make me want to thank my friends profusely for the gift they had given me in helping me clean up.

From my experience, I gained an insight into human nature: People only acknowledge what they don't expect. If it's "coming to them," there's no need to thank the one who took it from the potential to the actual.

When a baby begins to grow, his first, and most fascinating, toys are his own hands and feet. He is overcome with amazement and wonder of the complexity of Hashem's world. Everything he sees is new and exciting – a leaf, a cloud, his nose etc. Everything is seen as a gift special for him. As he grows up, he gets used to seeing the world as it is, so it no longer inspires such admiration. That's just the way the world is – nothing special about it, nothing new, nothing to express thanks for because this is the way it's supposed to be.

Everything in this world that is labeled "nature" or "natural" is really an oft-occurring miracle. Waking, breathing, sleeping, eating … the list is endless. If only we could go back to our babyhood as adults so we can recognize the good in our lives and thank the One who gave it to us!

I'm so Happy for You ... I Think

I feel really awful right now.

It's finally happened.

This is the first time I heard about someone getting engaged without feeling total joy for her.

Someone I know, who's a year younger than me and just back from seminary, gets a mazel tov. I knew she was going out because I saw her get into a car with a guy who wasn't her brother a few weeks back. But there's a difference between thinking she's been dating seriously and knowing she's engaged.

It's not that I'm not happy for her. I am; I really am. We grew up together, but she was always younger than me. I was always the wiser one, the one with more life experience under her belt. But now ... she's gone places that I can only dream of. She's on her way to starting her new life, and I'm still stuck in this rut.

I'm not old, surely not an old maid, but somehow it feels so wrong. It feels only right that those who are older should get engaged/married first. I know it doesn't always happen that way. I know there are lots of older singles out there, singles who are a lot older than I am. I've always tried to imagine how they feel, but I've never succeeded. Until now. This girl is only a year younger than I am, and it still hurts to see her engaged before I am. How much worse it must be for those who are even older - when the new kallahs are 6, 7, 8 years younger!

There's comfort in knowing that each person has her zivug already set aside for her. Her chosson was not meant to be my chosson, and this time is obviously not the right time for me. My bashert is out there ... somewhere. Some time, hopefully soon, it will be the right time for me to meet him. Until then, Hashem, please help me get through this hard time while staying upbeat and with sensitivity to my friends. Please help me not lose hope, and most of all, make my marriage worth it.

Hashem Loves Me ... Even More

I've been telling over the mashal (parable) that I wrote about in my last post. It's interesting how every time I tell it over, the person I'm telling it to follows that train of thought and adds a new perspective to it. (Thanks Esther and Nechama). Imagine that this post flows straight from the last one

Also, we had gotten off the highway at the wrong exit. My friend pointed out that the wrong exit could be seen as making a bad decision or doing a chait (sin). Hashem doesn't leave us; rather, he follows us, hoping to be able to guide us back onto the correct path. Just like Otto did.

When we're going the wrong way in life, Hashem tries to send us messages to push us back onto the right path. He comes up to our window and asks if we need help. When we refuse to let Him in, He'll come around a different way and try to open the door and force His way into our lives. He'll hurt us (or so we think) if necessary, but the ultimate goal is to save our spiritual lives.

But often, we think we're OK, that someone is going to come and save us (like my father, in this situation), so we don't need Hakadosh Baruch Hu (G-d)'s help. But we do. My father alone could not have done anything for us. He couldn't push us up the hill or get the car into a semi-legal spot. Only Hashem (with Otto as His shaliach [messenger]) was able to save us.

As the pasuk (verse) from Tehillim (Psalms) says - טוב לחסות בה מבטוח בנדיבים - better to trust in Hashem than in people, or even noblemen. Hashem can and will take care of us. We just have to place our trust in Him.

Hashem Loves Me ... Cont.

There was another point that I wanted to make about my experience on Thursday.

Last time I wrote, I said that Otto pulled up next to us and waited a few minutes before coming to help.

I was wrong.

He told my father that he had been behind us on the highway. He saw us break down, so
he followed us off. He and his friend, Russ, stayed behind us on the service road for a while, protecting us from oncoming cars, putting their own car and lives at risk.

He was with us the entire time, but we didn't know it.

Hashem (G-d) is always with us. Even when we feel alone, He is always watching us, taking care of us. We just have to look in our rear-view mirrors - at past miracles and instances of Hashgacha (divine providence) - to see that He has been with us all our lives and will not desert us now.

♪♫ Hashem Loves Me ♫♪

Everyone knows at least one story of Hashgacha Pratis (Divine Providence). I've written about it more than once (here, here, here, and here). Some stories are small ones, like finding a parking spot when you need one, or a day off when you thought you were supposed to be working. Some stories are bigger – of men saved from 9/11 because of slichos (penitential prayers said before Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur), of families saved from certain death by a missed bus, and the like. My story is not quite as drastic, but it will stay in the annals of my greatest personal Hashgacha stories.

Tonight, I was on my way home from Touro. As I do every Thursday, I was driving my friend's family car (she doesn't drive yet but wants to be part of my carpool). As we were walking out of the building, a girl from one of my classes asked us if we were passing near her house, and if so, could we give her a lift. Now, you have to understand – I live in Queens. I can either take the Jackie Robinson Parkway (which goes through a very bad neighborhood) or the Belt Parkway, which is longer, but runs through a better place. I usually take the Jackie. If I would take the Belt, I would pass right by this girl's house, so I elected to drop her off and take that route.

We dropped her off, going much further out of the way than I had expected. On our way to the highway, we were saying how it's OK if we get a bit lost because we are Shiluchei Mitzvah (those sent to do a Mitzvah), and they are not harmed. Prophetic words, but we didn't know that then.

The car I was driving is a very old car, and it's not in the greatest condition. Every so often it makes strange noises, but I've been driving it all semester, so the regular noises don't bother me anymore. We were about halfway home (a little before 11), and I was in the left lane going a scant ten miles above the speed limit but somehow managing to be one of the slowest cars on the road. I heard a strange noise that was not among the repertoire of noises that I was used to hearing from the car. I noticed that I was losing speed, but the car did not respond to the gas pedal. I started inching over to the middle lane, and then to the right-most one.

The car was going slower and slower. I needed to get off the highway, and I needed to do it right then.

Baruch Hashem (thank G-d) there was an exit coming up, so I quickly got off. As I got onto the ramp, I realized that I had lost all power steering and power brakes. I literally had to wrench the wheel to get the car to go on the service road. As I was driving, I put the car in neutral and attempted to restart the engine, but it was a no go.

The car stopped of its own volition at the first red light we came to. We were stuck on the service road, with nowhere to go. I turned on the hazard lights, and we called our respective parents. My father said he would come get us as soon as he could, and then we'd figure out how to deal with the car.

We sat there waiting for him to come, calling our friends (what else is there to do at such a time?) and watching the clock tick. My father was nearly there when a car pulled up next to us. A man got out of the car and started asking me if we needed help. I told him that we were fine because my father was coming. I thought he'd left, but he just went around the car to the passenger side. He started to open the door, telling us that we had better get out of the car for safety reasons. We started to freak out. My friend in the passenger seat was nearly hysterical. He told us that he was from the City Marshals, and he was going to help us, but we were too scared to listen.

My father came right then, so he took over. Turns out he actually was who he said he was; he was even a mechanic. My friends went to sit in my family's car while the men pushed the car and I steered. With Chasdei Hashem (Hashem's kindness) we made it to the side of the road. To make a long story short, we parked the car and left it overnight to deal with in the morning and went home in my family's car. We had left Touro a little before 10:30; I walked into my house at 12:30 and considered myself lucky that it wasn't later.

When I think back now to what happened, all I can do is thank Hashem. So many things could have gone wrong or been worse, but weren't:

• Otto (the guy who stopped) could have been a murderer or a rapist out to get easy prey.
  
• The fact that such a guy – one who actually had the knowledge and ability to help us – was passing through the neighborhood at a ridiculous hour.
  
• He told us that while he was watching (and he was only there for a few minutes before he got out to help us), we were nearly rear ended twice. Twice! And both of those cars stopped before they hit us.
  
• My father was able to come and help, even though it was really late.
  
• We didn't take the Jackie Robinson. It would have been much, much worse had we been in East New York when it happened.
  
• We were very close to an exit leading to a decent exit. The exit before we got off was not a good neighborhood.
  
• I was able to keep my cool – this is the first time such a thing has happened to me, and I always wondered how I'd react. Now I know. It didn't even occur to me to freak out – even when Otto came to my window
  

I'm sure there was a lot more Hashgacha involved, but it's too late (and this post is too long) for me to detail it.

Have a great Shabbos filled with obvious Hashgacha. Feel Hashem's love for you every second!

One Year Later

A year can bring a lot of changes to a person's life. The seminary year itself is one full of transformations. Unfortunately, as Staying Afloat mentions in her post, it's hard to keep inspiration going, and it's very hard to stay inspired over a long period of time. This past year since sem was over was meant to be the year of crystallizing what I gained in seminary and deciding (consciously or otherwise) what is going to stay with me for life. As a newly returned sem girl, I was idealistic; I was going to be the one to hold onto everything. Sadly, as I'm sure happens to most girls, this past year leeched away so much.

I found out yesterday that a friend of mine from sem who stayed in E"Y as a madricha is going to be in my lit class. Class is starting today, and I'm almost scared to see her. She only knew me at the height of my year, and now she's going to see me again a year later. I'm terrified that she's going to think I'm a different girl than I was. That I lost most of what I gained.

I'm thinking back now to all the kaballos I made last year. How many of them did I keep to? How many did I lose? How many do I not even remember making? Worse, how many do I no longer see the need for? I'm scared to look at myself in the mirror and see the girl I've become -someone who is not the girl I envisioned just one year ago.

From the Mouths of Babes ...

While I was coming home from work today, I passed A., a kid I used to babysit for. He happens to be very precocious - most kids I babysat for don't remember me, but he does. The conversation went as follows:

A: "MM, why don't you ever babysit for me anymore?"
me: "Most girls my age don't really have the time."
A: "Oh. [pause while he thinks this over] Are you married?"

From his lips to Hashem's ears!

Finals are OVER!!!!

Finals are officially over, and I only bombed one test! Now that I have more time on my hands, posts will IY"H be more forthcoming. We are now heading into the long summer vacation of Touro College. For all those not in the know, that is less than a week. That's right. My last final was last night, and the summer semester starts on Wednesday. Talk about a long break ... Anyway, that's all for now. Have a great Shabbos everyone.

I'm in the middle of finals

Sorry for not posting as often as I was planning. Keeping up a blog is harder than I thought :-). As the semester is winding down, finals are keeping me very busy, so I haven't had time to write out a nice post.

In lieu of my own words of wisdom(?), I wanted to share something beautiful that I just saw on JACP's blog here. Enjoy those moments!!

The Burden, part I

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I have a sister a few years below me. She's my only sibling, so in the natural course of things, we'd be very close. The thing is that we're different. Not in the normal sense of having temperaments that naturally cause fights, but in a real way. She has a genetic disorder, leaving her unable to walk, talk, or even see very well.

I know everyone always talks about the amazing things they learn from being the sibling of a special-needs child, and I do feel what they are talking about, but there are times when I wish she could be normal. That I could have fights with her about closet space. That I could help her with her homework. That I could just be a normal girl with a normal family. That I could have known for even one second the simple joy and lack of responsibility of childhood.

But if that can't happen, and at this point in time there is no natural cure (outside the realm of nissim gluyim), I wish that I could always feel the way others say they feel. That I could always feel the inspiration of living with a special neshoma. That it won't bother me when people reject me because of her.

I went through a stage in high school when, while I wasn't actually ashamed of her, nor did I resent her place in my life, I felt ... I don't know how to express it. Like her existence was a burden on me. I thought I was over it, but every so often it rears its ugly head. And I have to deal with it again. And again. And again. And I'll have to keep dealing with it forever (she should live ad meiah v'esrim). I just daven that Hashem will give me the strength to be able to love her as she needs and deserves to be loved and treat her like the very special person she is.

Erev Shavuos

Well, it's been hectic around here as usual. My family has this nasty habit of not cooking until the last minute - for shabbos, yomtov, supper .... So let's just say that this is the first second I've had to post. I didn't have time to think of something special and inspiring today to post, but I did read something beautiful on SD's blog here. Hope you enjoy! Have a good yomtov.