A note to my readers

I want to thank all of you for your continued support, encouragement, and most important, tefillos.

I just wanted to let all of you know that I am going to be taking a temporary break from this blog. I have been dealing with a lot lately, and I am seriously overwhelmed, and though I have enjoyed posting here so much, and all of my readers have inspired me to no end, I am going to be putting this blog on hold. Hopefully, iyH, some of the things I have been dealing with will be resolved, or at least somewhat eased, and I will be able to come back here and continue posting.

In the meantime, you can all include myself and my family in your tefilos, and check back here in a bit, hopefully I will be posting again.

Thank you.

Make the nisim happen to you too!

My family was discussing the story of neis Chanukah, and I was suddenly struck by something amazing. We all know about the neis that Hashem did for the Makabim. Just a few men, not trained warriors, lacking basic equipment, went out to war against one of the largest
armies of the day.

Picture it. Imagine if my father, my brothers and brothers in law, and perhaps an uncle and some cousins would go out to war. Just a couple of men, talmidei chachamim, business men, and young men. Imagine if they would go out and fight against the entire United States Army. And
they would win.

That is essentially what happened. It's incredible to think about. It wasn't something that could have happened naturally, ever. It was so obviously min Hashamayim.

And yet-

Imagine the way these men felt going out to war. Do you think it wasn't terrifying for them, to go out to fight, to be outnumbered by thousands to one?do you think it wasn't terrifying for these men to go out devoid of equipment and face the most advanced military equipment
of the day?

But they did go out. They fought. And they won.

I think we can learn the most incredible lesson from this. In order to experience the amazing nissim that Hashem was ready to perform for the makabim, they had to place their lives in His hands, they had to trust him to the fullest extent. And only when they put their trust in Him,
when they went out to fight, that's when the stage was set for all the nissim of Chanukah to happen.

We need to realize that Hashem's power is endless. His abilities are all-encompassing. His goodness knows no boundaries. We need to jump in, trust Him. Then, and only then, will we be able to see the nissim that Hashem is ready and waiting to perform for us.

Ah freilichen Chanukah!

Lots of little pillars

I went down to the basement of the large building. I marveled as I looked around. Here is the foundations of the magnificent edifice we see from the outside. Here are the inner workings of a beautiful building. Looking around, I see pillars. Lots of pillars. Each one, on its own, would not get very far in terms of supporting a building of this size. And yet, as all of these pillars come together, they hold up a building of enormous size and magnificent beauty.

And that my friends, is our lives. We often look to Hashem, expecting Him to send us some massive sign that He is there, watching us, helping us, and taking care of our every need. And yet, often, as we sit in the darkness we realize that the Big Sign isn't coming. But the signs are there. All day, every day.

Looking around the world, we see little signs here and there that Hashem is there for us. A coupon here, a ride there, little things, little pillars. Yet, when we draw the full strength out of each one we find that, just like the huge building, we can be supported by lots of little pillars.

Can each solitary sign fortify us enough to draw strength for our lives? Probably not. But we just need to look around, to grab onto all of those pillars, to recognize them for the signs that they are, and utilize them. We must realize that Hashem is sending the signs, and recognizing them is the biggest favor a person can ever do for themselves...

Please tell me what you think-

I want to know what all of y0u think about this, so please tell me.

What does strength mean to you?

What do you think of when you think of a "strong person"?

What do you mean when you say that a person is "strong"?

Thanks!

(Again, if you want you can email your answer to me, or you can tell me not to publish your comment. Thanks for all your feedback!)

Life is like a rollercoaster

Did you ever think to yourself that your life is like a roller coaster?

I have.

But it suddenly struck me. Life may be a roller coaster, steep inclines, sharp drops. Dizzying heights that crash down into the lowest point imaginable. Sure, life is like a roller coaster.

But- Think about it for a minute. When you go on a roller coaster, do you have to worry about your safety? True, for some people roller coasters are far from enjoyable, but, either way, when you get into that little cart, you know that you don't have to be afraid for your safe return...that the roller coaster runs on a pre-designed track, and that, no matter how much you get thrown around, no matter how high you climb or how low you fall, you will always be being guided toward your safe return....

wings of my own

the airport is
a busy place
full of people
busy
running
rushing
to a far away
destination

the planes take off
they soar
high
into the sky
moving
upward
and onward
carrying
dozens of people
to a new place
a new life

watching
the scene
makes me sad
for I know
that
here I am
just me
by myself
lonely and stuck
in today
in yesterday
in the steep
downward spiral
of mundane
activities
of mind-numbing
endeavors

its a reality
rooted
in the hopelessness
that surrounds me
it is grounded
in the unrest
that threatens
to engulf
my being

but yet
I hold on tight
to the dream
to the hope
to the knowledge
that one day
I too
will spread my wings
and fly

fly...
to a better tomorrow

U'Teshuvah, U'Teffilah, U'Tzedaka...

On Rosh Hashanah, when the ba'al tefilah began to chant the heart wrenching words of Unesaneh Tokef, a lot of cries could be heard in the shul. Countless faces were buried in tear stained machzorim as the chazan proclaimed: "b'rosh hashanah yikasevu....mi yichye umi
yamus..." And then, the words came, the ones that peirced my soul, and simultaneously gave me hope.

I wonder if an outside observer, who knew nothing about my family would have been able to see a difference. There we were, myself, my mother and all of my sisters, simply standing there in a row, heads buried in our machzorim. Yet, as those words were uttered, "mi ye'ani umi ye'asher," no doubt I wasn't the only one with my shoulders shaking, reaching for a tissue from behind the privacy of my machzor. From the sounds I heard from the sisters on each side of me, I knew it wasn't only me for whom this concept hit home.

Yes, the other things listed in Unesane Tokef are far worse, far more tragic than "mi ye'ani," but after all, chazal say that ani chashuv kemeis, a poor person is like a dead person. It is from personal experience that I tell you that there is a good reason behind that.

Being poor is, as readers of this blog know, not about simply lacking material things. It's about emotions, fear, lack of stability. It's about lack of pride. It's about lack of certainty. Lack of peace of mind. Lack of peace in the house.

I don't have all that much to say about "mi ye'ani" that hasn't already been written here, but one thing both scares me and gives me hope: "mi ye'ani umi ye'asher." Last year, we were on the "mi ye'ani" side of it. But, as we all know, this rosh hashana, there is a new judgement, and now, we all have the same chance of being rich. My neighbor might have millions in the bank, yet this year, we have as much of a chance of "mi ye'asher" as he does.

Are you scared? Do you realize that it could be you next year? Do you want to know what to do? Look a little further in the machzor....


U'Teshuvah, U'Tefilah, U'Tzadakah....ma'avirin es ro'ah hagezeirah. Tzedaka is so important, so vital. Not just for those getting it, who will stay in the light, under a roof, and have food on yom tov, but for you also. This is one of the three things you need to do in order to break any harsh decrees.

In case it sounds like I am making an appeal for my family, I wouldn't do that. I'm asking, for your sake, please take out your credit card and call your local tomchei shabbos. Call your local tzedaka organization, a local yeshivah. Give tzedakah.....we all know, it saves lives!

Rosh Hashana Lessons

I left work sad and upset.

With everything else going on in my life, the last thing I need now is problems at my job. Just one month ago, my position was invincible, my salary was excellent, I felt so confident about my job. It's hard to believe how quickly things have deteriorated. In a relatively short time, the company ran into problems, my salary was cut, and my supervisor, possibly as a result of stress, has been treating those of us working under her....pretty badly.

So I sit here, thinking of my uncertain future, thinking of how awful it is to be searching for a job, thinking of how quickly those fanciful castles I've built in the air have crashed forcefully to the ground.

How could I have speculated on salary? How could I have ever dreamed that I knew what lay ahead, and that things were settled?

And then, suddenly, I realized how incredibly lucky I am. When davening this Rosh Hashanah, I doubt anybody would say that I'm anything but painfully aware of the need to daven for parnassah. After all, lack of money for even the basics is beyond believable to me. It's my reality.

But-

With a very well paying job, where I was happy and treated well, would I have been as aware of the need to daven for my personal parnassah? Can a person who is slated to make a really nice salary in a great job really have kavanah when davening for a job, regardless of where their salary goes?

Imagine, if I had gone into Rosh Hashanah feeling as complacent about my job as I did so recently. Would I have begged Hashem for a good job where I will be happy, content and appreciated?

And then, I realized the incredible lesson that Hashem had taught me. One might have a good job today, but look how quickly it can deteriorate! One might have a lot of money in the bank, in stocks, in investments, but look how easily he can lose it all! One might have a successful business, but look how easily it can all turn to dust....

Now, with the close proximity to Rosh Hashanah, I am reminded, as strongly as a person can be, we must beg, plead, beseach Hakadosh Baruch Hu, ask Him to give us banei, chayei, umezonei. We remember that nothing is guaranteed. We might think it's all under wraps, but that was last year. This is a new year, a new judgement, a new page in the book of our lives.

Nothing is guaranteed. A person who had a good job last year needs to beg Hashem that He will have a good job this year. A person that had a lot of savings last year has to beg Hashem that he will have them again this year. A beautiful house? Beg Hashem! Trust me, it's easily lost. And it's not only money. You think you're healthy? Perhaps you have others in mind when saying "Avinu malkeinu, shlach refuah sheleima lecholei amecha." Do you realize, that could be you? Good health is an enormous bracha, one we have to daven for.

Think of the horrible tragedies that took place over the last year. All those people who lost their lives. Do you think that they expected to? Do you realize that life is the most basic thing we have, yet we have to daven for it this Rosh Hashanah?

All of the good in our lives, and even our lives themselves, are things that Hashem, in His infinite goodness and mercy, granted to us last Rosh Hashanah. And now, it's a new year, a new start, a new chance to daven....

In case anyone found the above discouraging, let me point out the flip side. A person can think that things are so bleak, so hopeless, and yet, here they are, presented with a totally fresh chance to daven for a turnaround. For example, a girl I know, quite a few years older than me, was single last year. I am sure that she shed a lot of tears on Rosh Hashana, asking Hashem to send her bashert. This year, I am sure she also has a lot to daven for, after all, she has her husband and her unborn child to think about.... Yet to think, that last year, it looked so bleak, and now, there has been such an astonishing reversal.

And so, to all of my readers, I wish a kesivah vechasima tovah, a gut gebentched yur, and Hashem should answer all of your teffilos for good. May the coming year bring yeshuos, nechamos, simcha, mazel, bracha, brius, parnassa, and geulah for klal yisroel.

Daven well my friends, daven well.

dreams

No weapon can destroy,
No flame can consume,
The strength,
the will,
the passion of a dream

Like a butterfly,
That flits about
A dream
Spreads it wings
And flies...

Like a rushing spring,
A river flowing strong,
An ocean's waves crashing,
A dream flows,
It grows,
It's thirsts....

Like a mountain,
Like a boulder,
Like a building made of brick,
A dream is strong
It can not
Ever
Be destroyed

Vena Al Tatzricheinu

Venah al tatzricheinu, Hashem elokeinu, lo lidei matnas basar vadom, velo lidei halva'asam, ki im liyadecha, hameleia, hapesucha, hakedosha veharechava, shelo neivosh velo nikaleim le'olam va'ed.

I lay in bed, it's the middle of the night, and I need to be up soon, but I just can't sleep. This has been weighing on my mind all day. All day, I managed to push it away, to do what I needed to do with a big smile, but now, in the privacy of my bed, hidden by the veil of darkness, I indulge in the thoughts that refuse to escape my conscience.

I turn on the music, quietly, so as not to wake anyone, and I chose a song from shwekey 2: Vana al tatzricheinu....ki im liyadecha.... And the tears spring to my eyes. The last few months have been rough financially. Now, in the past few weeks the expenses have piled up more than ever before, culminating in the last few days of more expenses than I dreamed about, even in my worst nightmares.

And so the tzedaka issue is taking center stage with my thoughts. I wonder what's harder, me giving the money to my mother, or her taking it.

I knew she had a ton of expenses that needed to be covered. So I took my paycheck, I went to the bank, and I cashed it. Two weeks of work, over eighty hours of difficult tasks, reports and meetings, and here is the product: an envelope from the bank, stating simply....loose change.

If only it were merely loose change. If only this was as insignificant to us as a few dollars... My selfish nature began protesting. The voice of my yetzer harah came through loud and clear. "Think about everything you could by with this quantity of cash." "Think about your future, about your dreams of a Torah home!" He's tricky that yetzer harah, he knows how to sound like a tzaddik...he almost got to me.

I took the envelope, counted the money, and realized I had a dilemma. I knew it would be too painful for both of us if I would simply hand my mother the cash. I sat there holding the envelope, fighting tears from coming out, and I came up with a plan. I put the envelope back in my drawer.

I went over to my mother and asked told her that I know there are so many more expenses than usual, and I would like to help out. "Would that be ok with you mommy?" My mothers facial expression at that point was the saddest mixture of relief and embarrassment. "To tell you the truth, I already asked your older siblings for help, because there is no way that I can make it. I appreciate you offering....that you didn't make me come to you."

I don't think I ever felt such pity for my mother as I did at that moment. Imagine having to swallow every vestige of pride and actually approach your kids, asking for money?

I knew she was receptive, so I went and got the envelope. I was literally shaking. It's not easy for a person with a selfish nature like mine to hand over two weeks pay like that. Sadly, that was the easy part. I walked into my parent's room, and saw my mother sitting down. I placed the envelope across the room, on a shelf. I tried to make my voice sound like I'd just left her a couple of quarters for the parking meter, a I said "Here Ma, I'm leaving the envelope here. You'll take it when you have a chance." I turned and left the room, acting with total nonchalance.

I was sitting on the couch, trying to ignore the steady sound of rain dripping onto the floor a mere few feet away. I knew I was kidding myself. The noise was coming from my pounding heart. I knew there would be an encounter soon. I wasn't wrong. A minute or two later, my mother popped her head into the room. "DF, I didn't mean for you to give me this much! I can't take so much from you." Here it is, the confrontation I was afraid of. How does a person convince one's parent that the biggest favor their parent can do is take their money?

In all honesty, I don't remember what happened in the ensuing conversation. What I do remember, is that my mother walked away with a smile on her face, and I walked away emotionally drained. Hashem must have put the right words into my mouth.

But as I sit here, in the dead of the night, listening the the sounds of Shwekey singing Vena Al Tatzricheinu, I think about the importance of this tefillah. I think about the incredible timeliness of it. I think about the "behind the scenes" of giving tzedaka, the pain, the raw emotions, the terrible impact of both giving and receiving tzedaka, and I realize that I'll start to daven for this even harder.

Halevai one day in the near future my family will be supported directly from Yad Hashem, not via the painful method of His gomlei chassadim. Halevai someday soon we will recite this tefillah and look hack at the days when it used to be so real for us. In short, Halevai soon we will be zoche to see the yad of Hashem...the yad hameleia hapesucha hakedosha veharechava of Hakodosh Baruch Hu.

A True Story

It was erev pesach, and Mr. Gold, the butcher, was very busy in his shop. People were coming and buying their large pesach orders. Business, one could say, was booming. R' Yosef, a kollel yungeleit from the neighborhood, walked into the shop. He looked around at the hustle and bustle of the many customers selecting their meats for pesach, at the rush of the per-pesach poultry shopping, and he got an idea. He approached Mr. Gold, and asked to speak with him.

"Mr. Gold," began R' Yosef, "I am a yeshivah student. You know I don't have much money. You have so much business during this time of the year, can't you please give me a reduced price on my meat?" Mr. Gold looked at R' Yosef and shook his head. "You are better off than I am."

R' Yosef was shocked. How could that be? He asked Mr. Gold for an explanation. So Mr. Gold explained. "All day, I every day, I work from morning to night, preparing chicken and meat for ther store. I am busy with animals, with fleish, all day long. And you, I am sure, also work from morning to night. The difference is, when I go to sleep at night, I dream about what? I dream about fleish, about the shop, and worst of all, I dream about money. You? You go to sleep and dream about amar R' Abaye.... And if you think that the shop is busy, and therefore I have lots of extra money, you are sadly mistaken. Nobody ever has too much or too little money. Hashem has many ways of ensuring that the correct amounts of money are distributed.

"For example, All year long, I manage with the money I have. Suddenly, it's erev pesach, and I am making more money than before. So what happens? One of my children gets a toothache, and needs a root canal. Another child falls and breaks a bone, and needs to be seen by a fancy private doctor. The car needs repairs... All these things never happen to me normally.

"And what happens with you? You need the extra money, as Pesach is coming, so you get an idea into your head, and you make a shidduch. Then someone needs you to tutor their son. All kinds of extra sources of income that you normally don't have...because you need the money now. Just because you are learning and I am working...you don't make less money than I do."

Reb Yosef understood what Mr. Gold had said, but he had one last question. "So why have you chosen to work, rather than learn?" Mr. Gold's answer was simple. "My nature is that I can't sit. So instead I have to work, therefore, I go out and I supply the tzibur with kosher meat."

Imagine if we could all reach the level of bitachon that Mr. Gold is on?


(Names have been changed.)

why is he poor?

I had suppressed this memory for years, and for some reason, it just came back to me, and I am in tears as I write this...

We are sitting in class, learning about hilchos tzedaka. Having just heard the shocking news from my parents that the only way we would be able to continue to exist, was through tzedaka funds....I found the class hard, to say the least. I was trying to sort of tune out, because I didn't really want to hear the halachos that a person would have to learn before pulling out a checkbook...to support...us. As hard as I tried, I simply couldn't tune out completely. The teacher was discussing the Halacha to support an ani up to their former standards. He gave an example. "If a man comes to me and says that his business went sour, and he is no longer able to make the payments on the four high-luxury cars sitting in his driveway, and he is no longer able to make his mortgage payments on his mansion on the fanciest street in town, I might be tempted to say 'hey! Cut back! I don't even have all that stuff!' but I am not allowed to, according to Halacha. We have to support the ani up to his former standards."

My classmates had a hard time understanding this. As I sat there, trying to sink further and further into my seat, my classmates debated with our teacher about this. "How could it be? If the man is poor let him go out and get a job. I work hard, he should too!"

I couldn't believe the naivete going on all around me. Were they actually saying all this? Do they honestly believe all this? Do they think that my father is just copping out? Do they think that it isn't destroying every fiber of my father's being, just accepting these checks? Do they think that we don't choke on food that comes from charity boxes? Do these privileged little girls seriously not get it?

Do they think that just because their tatty goes out to work and makes money that all people who go out to work make money?

How could I ever explain to these girls the shame, the embarrassment, the worry, the fear, the pain, the tension, the horror, the heartache that goes into accepting tzedaka?

No words in the world could ever take all the emotions and the misery of not being able to support your family. Nothing I could ever say or write would ever let this girl understand even a fraction of how wrong she was.

Lazy? My father worked his heart out, quite literally, to make a parnassa. If efforts would me reflected in livelihood, my father would be among the richest men in the community.
Lazy? My family is fighting for survival. I don't think that she would handle this life for an hour, and yet she calls us lazy.
Lazy? I wish I would have the luxury of spending a bit of time remembering the meaning of that word. Right now It remains a hazy memory buried somewhere deep inside my soul.

No my classmate. We aren't lazy. We aren't copping out. We aren't living on easy street. We are suffering. Please try to understand that. We did not chose this life, nor would we ever.

What can they do about it?

When I watched my sisters come home from the last day of school...empty handed, I can't help but wonder how a school can do this to a child.


They don't know that she stayed up half the night studying for a really tough Novi test...
But I do.

They don't know that she spent hours and hours rewriting her notes, teaching other girls the material, all in preparation for the big test.
But I do.

They don't know that she needed a lot of tutoring, and that I used over 500 dollars of my hard earned money.
But I do.

They don't see my sisters come home and finally be able to release their tears of shame, embarrassment, and utter disappointment, when they were told that they were not getting report cards.
But I do.

They don't know that she needed to see the results of her hard work in order to motivate herself to continue working so hard in the future.
But I do.



On the other hand...



I don't know about the teachers who are waiting to be paid.
But I am sure they do.

I don't know about the bills they have that have yet to be paid.
But I am sure they do.

I don't know how many students have parents who are suddenly unable to pay tuition
But I am sure they do.


So what can we schools do about unpaid tuition bills?

Have You Ever Felt Like This?

I was in the grocery store, when I saw a young child, about three years old, that had gotten separated from her family. She was roaming around the isles, crying and looking for her father. She had tears in her eyes as she walked through the isles of the grocery store crying out "Tatty, Tatty, Vi bist du?"

His Hand

I was walking on the street with my friend today. We saw a mother scold her (obviously upset) son. "Go! Run to Tatty! You will be late for shul! Run!" There had been a number of men who had just came from that house, and my friend and I were speculating which of the men might be the young boy's father.
"I think it is the one to the right," my friend declared. I had to disagree. "Sorry, but you can't be right. Look, the man on the left stuck out his hand, obviously waiting for his son to grab onto it."

And sure enough, we watched the scene play out another few seconds, and the young boy grabbed onto the hand of the man on the left. Because, the boy's father was holding out his hand....he was waiting for his son.

Lately, things have been tough. I have been challenged again and again, and in the last week or so, more than ever before. I have felt alone. But...if I look carefully enough........there is my father, sticking His hand out, waiting patiently for me to join Him. He is holding out His hand at all times, simply waiting...waiting for me to grab onto it.

The Best Time

There really never is a good time for your father's business to collapse. Nor is there ever a time when it is easy for you and your family to start accepting tzedakah instead of giving it. But the time when a girl is crossing the threshold of school, and entering the new phase called "real life" seemed, to me, like the worst possible time.

Here I was, just finishing my seminary year, about to step into a new world. The world I had envisioned stepping into was one of shadchanim, of young men shyly stepping up to my door to take me out. It was a world of resumes and job applications. It was a world of professors and term papers. It was a world of fun and friends...that I would remain a part of until I would enter the world of my marriage.

It was, also, as it turned out, the world of my dreams. Because I soon discovered that I was wrong. That was the world that others stepped into. Instead, I stepped into a world of collection calls and credit cards. A world of negligent mortgage payments and late insurance payments. A world of leaky roofs and broken appliances. A world of tomchei shabbos boxes and battered pride. In short, the world I had unwillingly stepped into was one of financial ruin. It was a world that was as far from the world I had envisioned as two worlds could possibly be.

So I moved into my new world with more than a little reluctance. While my friends were concerned with which job they would enjoy the most, I was concerned only with which would pay the best. And while technically, I was in shidduchim, we were obviously not actively pursuing much. If a yom tov was enough to push us over the financial brink, surely an engagement and the ensuing wedding was far beyond the scope of our financial capabilities.

And college...! Nobody could understand why the smartest kid in the class, the one for whom all teachers had such high hopes, would stop her schooling so abruptly. But what they didn't realize was that after all the numerous financial obligations I had, there was nothing left from my paycheck to even consider anything as unnecessary as college and the pursuit of higher education.

Throughout numerous seminary classes on chashivus hatorah, I made up my mind. From the minute I would get my first paycheck, up until the day of my wedding, I would save my money, carefully and scrupulously. The money would then be deposited into my savings account, which, in my mind, I had lovingly dubbed "the Kollel fund." Using the money I had saved, I would be free to pursue my lofty dream of building up a home of torah.

In this new world which I had so reluctantly stepped into, I was about to discover that some dreams, no matter how lofty, have to step aside to make room for the sometimes bitter reality.

It was with this realization that I took on my second job. It was with this same realization that I pulled out my debit card, week after week, to buy the shabbos groceries. It was also this realization that led me to pay off the balance at the grocery store and give my father the money to pay a backlog of unpaid telephone bills.

Each occasion was a stab through my heart. Each occasion was a little needle being savagely thrust into the little bubble of dreams residing deep inside my heart. Each time I pulled out my card, my hand shook. Each time I my father asked me for money and I answered "sure ta, how much?", my voice quivered.

It was with a heavy heart that I listened to shidduch talk all around me. When other girls spoke about support, so their future husbands could learn in Kollel, my heart contracted in pain. I sat there thinking to myself, "Hashem, they talk about their new clothes and shoes, and I don't feel a tinge of jealousy. It is with no trace of envy that I listen to them talk about their upcoming vacations to Israel. But here, they talk of husband in Kollel, of the sweet sounds of Torah resonating in their homes, and my heart fills with such envy I can barely contain it. Please Hashem, Asei Le'manacha im lo le'maneinu! I am not asking for myself, for any kind of personal comfort or glory. I am asking for the sake of You and Your heilige Torah! Please Hashem, grant me the zechus to be able to build a home around the beauty of Limud Torah."

And that is how I started on the next phase of my life. As I sat there with these thoughts, I came upon a new realization.

All of these girls thought that their fathers are sending them a monthly check to help with their expenses. But, I suddenly realized, they were wrong. Because there is only one source of money, or any kind of goodness, and that is Hashem. The same One who sent the money to these girls, in their case through their fathers, can just as easily find another means to send me sustenance.

Suddenly, there was a new bounce in my step. There was this new found feeling of joy and excitement in the very actions which had pained me so deeply. My hand, instead of shaking as I wrote out a check, was completely steady. Money comes and money goes. For the first eighteen years of my life, my father had the money, and he supported me. Now, things have shifted. I now have the money, and I am helping him. One day, when I need the money again, G-d will find an alternative way to provide.

So now, when people ask me what I am looking for in a boy, my answer is simple. I say I am looking for a boy who, when I say that I have a very rich Father who is promising to give me everything I need for the rest of my life...he won't think I am joking. Because I am completely serious.



There never is a good time to have a mountain of financial troubles heaped upon a girls head, is there? But, I must say, if they are going to happen anyway, there are certain times that are better or worse than others. And a time when a girl stands at a crossroads of major life decisions is starting to seem like the best possible time...

A question for my readers...

I have been thinking about the past few months...since I have started this blog. A lot has changed...but I think back to my original reasons for starting this blog, and wish I had recorded them more carefully, so I could do a progress check...but in truth, I am not sure...

So instead, I ask you, my readers, to tell me-


Why are you reading this?
What have you learned from this blog?

(if you feel uncomfortable to publish your response as a comment, feel free to email me)

what its really about

Sometimes I wish I could properly convey to you what it means to really be lacking in money, but I doubt I can.

You see...it is not about the surface hardships.

When I am standing in the grocery store, contemplating a box of crackers that costs 2 dollars, and I decide that it's not really a necessity, so I manage without my crackers...
its not about me, its not about crackers...


When I get my bank statement, and see that I am spending more than I deposit, though I deposit more than most girls do, because I work so hard...
its not about me, and its not about my bank account...

When my little sister moves her bed to a different part of her room, because there is a leak over the spot where her bed was...
its not about my sister, and its not about leaky roofs...

When we go to sleep in 83 degrees, despite an air conditioner that works perfectly, simply because we can't afford the extra electricity involved in turning it on...
its not about my family, and its not about the electricity bills...

When my little siblings stay home all summer rather than go to camp, because even day camp is simply out of our budgets...
its not about my little siblings, its not about camps tuition...

When I walk in my old and tattered shoes, and I feel every pebble on the ground...
its not about me, and its not about my shoes...

When my mother is scared to look at the mail because she knows its all a bunch of bills that she can't afford to pay...
its not about my mother, and its not about the mail...

When nobody wants to pick up the phone because we know that it is most likely a nasty and pushy collection agency, so we miss important calls from our friends...
its not about us, and its not about the phone calls...

When my family finishes supper and we are all almost, but not quite full...
its not about my family and its not about the supper...

When a meshulach comes to the door and my father turns them away, saying "I don't have", and he means it, more than the meshulach can imagine...
its not about my father, and its not about the meshulach...

When the washing machine barely works and we have to hope and pray that it won't stop in the middle of a load, yet we don't dream of fixing it or replacing it...
its not about us and its not about the laundry...

When we wash our dishes by hand and put them into the broken dishwashers, which now serve as dish racks...
its not about us and its not about dishes...

When we go out to buy more buckets, because there is a forecast for a massive storm, and each one disintegrates our roof a little more...
its not about us and its not about buckets...

When my mother is mistreated at work but is afraid to stick up for herself because she can't afford to lose her job or take a pay cut...
its not about my mother and its not about her job...

When me or my siblings go on a date and my parents smile but inside they groan because they have absolutely no way to pay for a wedding...
its not about my parents and its not about wedding expenses...

When my friend calls me and asks me to go out with her, but I have to say no because I am working late...
its not about me, and its not about my work schedule...

When my father is sick but doesn't go to the doctor because he doesn't have the $20 for the copay...
its not about my father and its not about the copay...

When I go to sleep kind of hungry, but not wanting to eat anymore because I can manage without it...
its not about me and its not about hunger...

When the door falls off of our kitchen cabinet, and we smile and put it in the storage room with the other broken doors and handles that we can't afford to fix...
its not about us and its not about doors or handles...

When friends discuss their new clothes, shoes and jewelry, and I know that I won't be getting any of it for a while...
its not about me and its not about new clothes...

When I know I should send my skirt to the cleaners to be cleaned and pressed, but I decide to spot clean it and then iron it to save the money...
its not about me and its not about my skirt...

When a box comes from tomchei shabbos and nobody wants to look at it, much less eat what's inside...
its not about us and its not about the box...


But when everyone is fighting, and everyone is tense, and everyone is upset at everyone else...
I realize that its about a family....in distress...

Something to be grateful for?

People never know what is going on in other's lives, do they?

I met you tonight in the grocery store, each of us shopping for our mothers, and you peeked over at my shopping list....

"You are lucky, my list is so much longer than yours"

It didn't occur to you, when you said that, that my list was short because each thing we needed was thought over...and over...and over...and then mostly rejected. I'm sure you never dreamed that although the pantry and fridge are bare, this is all we will be eating for the next bit. I am sure it never occurred to you that you should be grateful that your mother handed you a full list...

How many things do I have, that am I complaining about, that I should really be grateful for?

thoughts on yom tov finery

Reflecting...

The family sat at the yom tov table, all looking their best. My sister's beautiful new earrings immediately caught everyone's eye. Suddenly, everyone was complementing my sister's earrings.


Yet...

It was weird. I was not jealous. So why did this stab of...of something shoot through my heart?
Was it this universal need to be recognized?


Perhaps....

As everyone is sitting here, complimenting her earrings, who complements Dry Eyes on her...on her what? On her beautiful new fridge? On everyone's beautiful new yom tov clothes? On the yom tov food?


So...

I smile inwardly to myself. I know that nobody knows about all that stuff. I know that Mommy knows about the food I paid for, and Tatty knows about the fridge I paid for, and each of my siblings knows what I bought for them.


And...

My poor sister. She works too. She makes money. And this is how she spends it. Poor girl, doesn't know what I know, doesn't feel what I feel.


Then...

I can't help but be happy. I know that the things I bought could have paid for a hundred pairs of earrings. And I know that in the next world, I will wear earrings that will be a hundred times brighter and more beautiful than anything she can buy with her money.


But...

Why do I still feel........?

When You Thought It Can't Get Tougher...

There is a time for your refrigerator to die, and there is a time for your refrigerator to die. Trust me, erev pesach is a rough time for your refrigerator to die.

It's not just the hundreds, the thousands of dollars of expenses this week, that are above the usual expenses. It's not just the entire stock of chicken, meat, cheese, eggs, and juice that now need to be transported to someone else's refrigerator. It is not just the food that has already been cooked that now needs a new place.

It's not even the money we (I) will have to spend on a new fridge tomorrow.

It's just the pileup of everything. Tomchei Shabbos delivery just as the repair man is proclaiming our freezer to be dead. It's just....too much.

So I sit here, ready to use the rest of the contents of my bank account, first thing tomorrow morning, and I wonder...what is Hashem trying to teach me here? What did He want me to learn from all this?

Perhaps my lesson was, appreciate how many things do work. Sure, the kitchen cabinets are falling apart, but the refrigerator is still humming...

Perhaps it was simply a test to my bitachon. Sure, it's easy to spend money when you have a couple of thousand dollars in your bank account. But when you have spent those last couple thousand in a mere few days, can you still spend like that?

Either way, I am grateful. I learned some valuable lessons tonight. I hope this will be the push I needed to raise my bitachon one notch, to live like I hope to live one day soon, IY"H, when I am married.

A Letter To My Friend...

To my dear friend,

I don't blame you for making me feel this way. I really don't. You didn't do anything wrong. You had no way of knowing. In fact, I am glad to know that it never occurred to you that it might be painful for me to hear this...

How were you to know that your words would hit home to such an extent? How were you to know that a simple phone call would make me feel like a piece of dirt? How were you to know?
You weren't.

Yet...
When you told me that you were volunteering at the local tomchei shabbos, I reacted well. I was impressed. Really, I was. It is very noble of you, taking time out at this busy time of year to help those unfortunate people. See, the problem is....I am among those unfortunate people.

Do you realize my friend? Do you realize what is going on? YOU took time out of your busy schedule to package OUR groceries?

It's hard to describe what it feels like, being at this end. I give you a bracha that you never should know. But trust me, as this is coming straight from my heart, it is awful. It is a horrible feeling.

Hopefully soon, Hashem will give us the bracha of "yiparneseinu b'kovod" but until then.... We'll be grateful for the food...any way Hashem sends it to us.

And now, I sit by my computer, holding back tears, yet, for now,
I remain,

Dry Eyes

Yom Tov Shopping

Every year we go to our local grocery store on erev pesach and make a big grocery order. In recent years it has become increasingly difficult, and our cart got decreasingly full. Last year, I slipped my mother my card on the way into the store, and told her to buy whatever she needs.
I just informed her that I would like to do that again. She looked at me uncomfortably.

"Um...we, well, I mean, thanks but I...we...um, we are getting some...um, we are getting some help."

She felt uncomfortable, but basically, I got the picture. Instead of shopping at our local grocery store, we are going to be shopping at tomchei shabbos.

Somehow I don't think I will enjoy my food very much this yom tov.

But, again, I am gratefull to Hashem that we have this option.....

Mi ka'amcha yisroel.....

What happens when you don't pay a bill?

I wish he wouldn't do this.

They say about teeth: "ignore your teeth and they will go away"

It doesn't work that way with bills.

You ignore them...and the service goes away.

This morning, I picked up the phone to dial a number. Nothing happened.

I went to check my email. "Internet Explorer is not connected to the internet."

Strange....

I said to my father, "Something seems wrong with our phones"

His face fell. He went to his desk and picked up an unopened envelope from the phone company.

He handed it to me. "I can't deal with this. Please deal with it for me."

I opened the envelope. I read the header.

"Final Cancellation Notice"

Apparently, we'd been warned.

Apparently. we ignored the warning.

Apparently, they were fed up.

So I pulled out my credit card. I called the number.

I spoke with an agent, and begged for the service to be reconnected as quickly as possible.

Then I paid the $550 dollar backlog of months of unpaid phone bills.

An hour later, the phones were working again.

We're really lucky, ya know?

The electricity company takes a day to reconnect.

That gas company takes hours.

And now we know how the phone company falls in comparison.

It's a real shame though.

I would be happy to pay the bill when they come.

I don't like to run through automated systems until I find an agent.

I don't like to beg them to do it quickly.

I don't like to pay the reconnection fee.

But it looks like this is just one more nisayon G-d is giving me.

It's funny how it is one of my hardest.

Reflections On Pesach Cleaning...

Having just spent a whole bunch of time cleaning my house for pesach, I found myself reflecting...

About a year ago, they started the foreclosure proceeding on our house. We started fighting back, stalling for time. One year, and countless mistakes by the mortgage company later, they are no closer to taking our house back than they were a year ago.

And so, yes, pesach cleaning is a real chore. Nobody likes doing it. But I am so grateful to Hashem that we still have a house to clean.

What do you think?

What do you think of this:
A teacher told her class that many people are suffering financially and that pesach is a big strain. She wants them to come in to her next class and hand in a paper telling her that they told their parents that they want to get less clothing than usual or spend less money than usual, to help the parents manage financially.

I have mixed feelings about this...wanted to know what everyone else thinks.
Thanks!

Guest Post: It's Real!

The following is a guest post emailed to me by a reader who's family is in a similar financial position to mine. She portrays an emotional account of what it feels like from "the other side". I wrote a post about people being careful what they say, which is obviously a tough thing to do, but please realize that especially Pesach time, there is a lot of financial stress on a lot of families.Discussion of gashmius, especially in the excess, is very tough for people like us.
She writes:

I walked into my office this morning, and I knew immediately it would be a rough day. The minute I heard what the conversation was I said: "Please Hashem, it's only Monday morning! Help get through the day without aggravation, without my coworkers making me upset." Two of my coworkers were discussing a family where "nebach the father just lost his job and they literally don't have food on the table." They couldn't understand it.
When will people begin to realize that people they know are suffering through this? Neighbors, friends, and yes, even your family are suffering. They literally don't have money. Its real. Its right here in your neighborhood. Real poverty. People who are not in this have no concept of what it means to not have money to buy food, clothing...bare necessities.
The way the conversation was flowing, I realized that this is the first person they heard of that doesn't have money. They were describing a scene that sounded so much like my family it was scary. The funny thing is, who would think? So far I didn't join their conversation. I'm just holding my breath, hoping they don't ask me to contribute toward their fund for this family.
Don't get me wrong. I would love to help them out, but you see-I can't .
I didn't have a penny on me (well, a penny I had, certainly not a dollar) and my tzedakah money is all given to my father. We don't either have money.
They are so naive it is unreal. I over hear them saying "The scariest thing is that so many families don't have money, but you would look at them and you would never know" Little did they know that one such person was sitting just 3 feet away. How could they know? Do they even know that when they are busy discussing their latest wardrobe for Pesach, I'm wondering where we are going to get money for matzos? And while they are busy trading recipes, I am wondering how we are going to buy food. I hear them talking about this one and that one who lost their job, but it doesn't even occur to them that someone can still have a job but not be bringing in any income. Those people certainly go unnoticed. The common response is "be thankful that they have a job." The ones that lost CEO positions, those are the ones who everyone knows about, but how about your neighbor who leaves every morning to open up his store, yet his income barely covers the rent? You think he has money to make Pesach, just because he has a job?
I just couldn't get over it. Later I informed one of them that I would love to give money for such a wonderful cause. But I just can't. I told them that unfortunately I know many people personally who are in the same situation as the family they described. I just gave yesterday! In all innocence, she told me she also just gave tzedakah yesterday, but she was talking in terms of $36, $50. I informed her that just yesterday I had given this family that I know very well $300. Her jaws dropped. She couldn't believe how I can give so much . "How well do I know them already? Its a good thing I didn't tell her about the $300 I gave last week. I silently blessed them that they should never be placed in a situation where they would understand.
I was so proud of myself that I was able to put on such a good act. I was smiling and talking about the latest Pesach preparations while pretending that I know where the money will come from. Money to cover my credit card debt that includes all of my family's Pesach expenses (my parents are maxed out). In truth, I do know. It's coming from Hashem.

An additional note from the author:
Dear coworker, if you are reading this and recognize some details leading you to figure out who I am, please keep it quiet. Don't make me the next topic of discussion in the office. We might not have money, but our dignity-we still have. The only reason I am allowing this post to go up is to make people aware of the current situation, and that it's not just something you read in the papers. Please don't make me regret my decision.
Thank You.

The Little Child And The Captain

I reach the harbor, I'm filled with anticipation. And, if truth be told, some trepidation. I see this massive ship docked in the harbor. I check my ticket, I look back at the ship...yes- it's my ship. And it's due to embark at any given moment.
I approach the gangway. I start walking up....
I am on the boat. I look around at all my surroundings. There, on the left is the galley. I hear the noise of the kitchen crew preparing dinner. To the right, I see a lifeboat. Something inside of me relaxes one notch.
Then I go up to the upper deck. The whistle is blown, the ship sets sail. I look around me....and all I see is water, water, and more water.
How in the world am I supposed to find my destination? I can't tell water from water, star from star!
I go down below, and take a nap. By the time I make it back up, and survey my surroundings, the harbor is out of view. Now, in each direction, all I can see is water...all the way to the horizon. I start to panic. How will I get there? How will I find my way? How will I manage?
I sit down on a bench and start to cry. An old man walks over to me and says "what is the matter my child? Why are you crying?" I choke out a response. "I...I...I don't know where we are going! All I see all around is water and it is so confusing! How will I ever find my destination?!?"
The old man looked at me and said "calm down my child! Can't you tell? There is a Captain, He is steering the ship."

Whoever said money can't buy happiness...........

........was so, so right.

Just A Thought...

Are people any happier because of this?

They Didn't Warn Me....

They didn't warn me....
That crying would mean bawling for hours and hours in a row.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would mean facing pain that I didn't even know existed.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would make the pain get so overwhelming it would be hard to breath.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would bring up memories that were buried for years and years and years.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would make me unable to eat or sleep for three days.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would render me unable to communicate normally.

They didn't warn me.....
That crying would hurt. Deep inside.

They didn't warn me.....
That crying would make me feel emotions I didn't know existed.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would make me want to strangle someone.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would make me lose the strength to go on.

They didn't warn me.....
That crying would make me lose the.....will to go on.

They didn't warn me.....
That crying would make me unable to cope.

They didn't warn me.....
That crying would take the excitement out of my life.

They didn't warn me....
That crying would make it hard to fit my mask back on my face.

They didn't warn me.....
That crying would make me such an emotional wreck.





They didn't warn me......

Approaching the storm

I stand at the shore,
the waters are untested,
the course is uncharted.

I have never dealt with anything like this before!

I don't want to get in the boat!
I want to stay here on safe,
dry land!

But life goes on, and I am forced to get in.

I explore the ship.
I greet the crew.
And we set sail.

How do I manage to put on a show of coping so admirably?

But look!
Right there- on the horizon!
A storm is brewing!

How much longer can I continue to hold back?

I lower the sails.
I prep the ship.
we must weather the storm!

I don't want to cry!

I suddenly realize-
I can't make it through the storm,
in this little boat!

The tears seem inevitable! I can't do this!

So I make a decision,
to turn back,
to avoid the storm.

I fight myself. Because I don't want to cry.

But the ship must reach it's destination!
There is no turning back-
We can only forge straight ahead!

I need to cry. I need to let it out.

I start to go back to the deck,
to man the sails,
to pass through the storm.

Can I even cry at this point?

I start to approach the storm clouds.
Mist is spraying on my boat.
The boat is rocking from the force of the storm!

Tears fill my eyes, threaten to overflow.

The boat is rocking violently.
I am holding on-
for dear life.

Can I cry? Can I not? How can I stop fighting with myself?

The boat is now hitting the storm.
waves crashing on the deck,
getting me wet.

What is this wet stuff on my cheeks? What is it doing there?

I can't make it through this storm!
I know my boat,
will capsize!

I can't let my only defense mechanism melt away!

I can't take the risk.
I can't try to make it,
through the storm.

I can't do this. I can't cry.

I have made so much progress!
I am almost there!
Just a little farther!

I have come this far! Can't I just cry?

I can't do it.
I just can't risk letting,
my entire ship overturn.

So I push the tears back to where they came from.

I turn the ship around.
I head back to shore,
to safety.

I stop my crying. Better safe than sorry.

I know this is not where I wanted to go.
I had a destination in sight!
But I can't make it there.

I am disappointed in myself.

I am not where I wanted to be.
But at least,
I am safe.

But I am safe.

One Can Only Dream....

All frum single girls have, from time to time fantasized about getting engaged.
You imagine the moment of excited proposal,
You imagine your exhilarated 'yes',
You imagine the lechaim,
You imagine the mazal tov wishes.

You might even start to fantasize about the vort, the invitations, the preparations.

You might even go as far as imagining yourself, sitting regally in a pure white gown, surrounded by crowds of people wishing you their most sincere mazel tov wishes.
It's a beautiful little daydream....Maybe it was brought about by a promising shidduch....Maybe it was brought about by a friend's glorious description of engaged life.

And so we indulge...we sail away to a place we can only see in our imaginations...and we dream...

I recently indulged in such a dream...I saw the smiling faces of my parents, eager to get to know their long awaited son-in-law.
I saw the excited way everyone wished me mazel tov...
I saw the beautiful hall, decked out in flowers, full of happy friends and family...there to celebrate...my wedding.
And there I was, in a pristine gown, the radiant Kallah.

And then....
all of my dreams...
for the future....
came crashing down....
by a memory....
of the past....

Because I know what will really happen when I get engaged.
We will go through the motions of simcha-no, we will be happy.
But...
If the expenses of day to day life are enough to keep my parents from sleeping at night...maybe the expenses of another wedding will....I don't know!
When we made our last wedding, about 2 years ago, things were tough, but not like they are now. The house was not in foreclosure yet. My father did not yet have the thousands of dollars of lawyer's bills he has now. Things were much easier financially.
And yet....
The expenses of the wedding were enough to keep my parents from having a minute's rest. It was enough to send my father begging in ways that he would never have done, if he could have avoided it. It was enough for us to accept some tzedakah in the most demeaning ways you can imagine.
And...
My sister had savings. When she gave presents to her chosson, it wasn't a gift from my parents. It came from her savings. The shadchan was paid for from her savings. Her gown, from a gemach, needed alterations, which were naturally paid for out of her savings. I don't have savings.
So...
The one feeling that really stands out, from everything is guilt. How can I do this to my family? How can I throw my parents into this emotional turmoil? And while the doctors say that they don't really know what caused my father to get sick and need hospitalization at that point, I don't really wonder.
Now...
I dream too...
I dream of things that seem impossible to me.
I dream to be a happy kallah, escorted down the to the chuppa in the arms of two healthy, happy, and calm parents. I dream of simcha that won't be marred by worries, tensions and anxieties. I dream of being able to get married without feeling sick to my stomach knowing that I have caused pain to my parents. I dream of being able to get married, move on, and not have to worry about my family having nothing to eat...

But for now...I will just dream.

Who is REALLY Driving?

When my brother was little, he used to love cars. So my mother bought him a toy steering wheel that he used to attach to the back of the seat in front of his. He used to have such a good time "driving" the car. Every time he would be in the car, he soul sit in the back, carefully maneuvering things with his little steering wheel. He would gleefully make vroom vroom noises as he navigated up hills and around bends. Sometimes the car in front would make a short stop, and my brother would be proud to steer the car around him and avoid an accident. He would get so intent on his "driving" that one would almost forget that he was not really doing anything outside of his imagination. In reality though, his careful maneuvers and excellent steering capabilities were not doing anything.

And this is the way we live our lives. We plan and plan and plan. We think it's us making all these brilliant decisions. We think we need to do it all on our own or else we'd crash. But we are as silly as the little child who thinks that their toy is preventing accidents on the road. There is Someone else driving the car. It's really not in our hands.

Did I Really Think?

Did I really think that when I texted you "hi" you would read my silent message and call me saying that your husband is busy and you have all the time in the world to talk to me and listen to me?

Did I really think that when I sent you an email saying "have a great day" you would interpret that as a sign that you should call me and tell me that you want to get together tonight and that you want to hear all about what has been going on lately?

Did I really think that when you called me and I told you that I needed to go, you would realize that what I really meant was that I have too much to say and I can't seem to say anything but that I really really really want you to stay on the phone with me and just listen?

Did I really think that when I told you that I am "doing great" you would pick up on the fact that great means crushing under the weight of trying to maintain my crazy work schedule while sick, and simultaneously trying to take care of the house and so many other things?

Did I really think that anyone would ever realize that the funnier I get and the more jokes I make and the harder I laugh, the more pain I am trying to cover up for?

Did I really think that anyone would realize that when I don't pick up my phone for a week it is because I have too much to say?

Did I really think that anyone would ever be able to understand that behind my cheerful disposition lies a person who is about to explode?

Did I really think that people are mind readers?

Did I really think that when I push people away....they wouldn't go away?

Did I really think that people could understand me...........if I can't understand myself?



(Sorry to put up yet another sad and depressing post. There are some crazy things going on right now that are making it very hard to cope. I am trying to get back to miss "amazing"....it might take a few more days....)

Advice, PLEASE?

When I started this blog, I hadn't cried in over a year. I knew it was bad, but I couldn't handle the emotions. There was too much pain going on, and I couldn't. I stopped allowing myself to feel things. I began dealing with life on an intillectual level, yet in an emotionally detached state.

Recognizing this was a problem, I set out to change my way of coping. I began to reach out to others. I began writing more. I started a blog. And it worked. I started to feel emotion again.
And I am not sure I like it.

I am falling from the weight of everything. I don't know if it the weight of everything in the last year falling on me at once, or if it just a few things going on in my life that are rough right now, but either way....I am not managing. I built up this shell around me that was so strong, so protective, I could withstand everything...without me feeling anything. People could barely get a reaction out of me. And now?

Now I am ready to cry over everything! I am ready to cry at the slightest disagreement, whereas a huge fight in the old days wouldn't get to me. I am ready to cry at the slightest disappointment, whereas the hugest letdown didn't used to get to me.

So now I ask you...(hopefully there are those wiser than me reading this, because I am at a loss)

Is there a point? Can I hide behind a mask forever? Must I let myself feel? Is there a middle ground? If so, how do I reach it? Do I first have to get past all of this pain that I have buried? What if I don't want to? How can I chanel this pain? How can I move past it all? Can I just pick up and move on? Advice anyone? How does one learn to cope? How does one separate the "I wants" from the "I haves"? How does one learn to deal with disappointments? With nastiness? With discord and strife? How does one deal with all this, feel all this, and emerge with a smile on their face?

Please, I am reaching out to anyone who may be reading this...I need help, advice...I am at a loss? Should I go back into my shell?

Who is Really Driving?

When my brother was little, he used to love cars. So my mother bought him a toy steering wheel that he used to attach to the back of the seat in front of him. He used to have such a good time "driving" the car. Every time he would be in the car, he soul sit in the back, carefully maneuvering things with his little steering wheel. He would gleefully make vroom vroom noises as he navigated up hills and around bends. Sometimes the car in front would make a short stop, and my brother would be proud to steer the car around him and avoid an accident. He would get so intent on his "driving" that one would almost forget that he was not really doing anything outside of his imagination. In reality though, his careful maneuvers and excellent steering capabilities were not doing anything.

And this is the way we live our lives. We plan and plan and plan. We think it's us making all these brilliant decisions. We think we need to do it all on our own or else we'd crash. But we are as silly as the little child who thinks that their toy is preventing accidents on the road. There is Someone else driving the car. It's really not in our hands.

Plans For My Future?

I met an old teacher of mine. She was one of the teachers that really liked me and considered me a star pupil. So we meet at a wedding, and she inquires where I am up to in life:

"So Dry Eyes, which corporation are you running?"

And then it hits me. This is the reason for my unrest, for my feelings of stagnation. I can talk until I am blue in the face about how I will manage financially, even with a husband in kollel, and no degree. But it goes further and deeper than that. I want to go to college.

You see, this is what they hoped for me. As the brilliant girl, Dry Eyes was expected to chose some lucrative field, and rise to the top of it. This is what I was supposed to become. The CEO of a large company, or maybe a top specialist in some complicated branch of medicine. Maybe a researcher, an inventor. Maybe I was expected to be a famous lawyer.

So I can try hard to convince myself that I don't want anything more. That as the future wife of a future Rosh Yeshivah or future Rav I don't belong doing this kind of thing. That my place will be at the stove or the sewing machine, where good yiddishe mama's have positioned themselves for generations.

I might fool the people I tell this to, but I can't ever fool myself. B"H, He gave me brains, and I want to use them. I want to find myself stimulated, to find myself exhausting my brain power. I am not happy working as a lowly secretary. I don't enjoy the odd-jobs I do to pick up an extra few dollars. I don't want to spend the rest of my life allowing my brain to rot under a pile of papers that need to be filed.

And now I am fighting back tears as I write this, because I know that right now, as I sit in the dead of the night at my computer typing spontaneously, without planning what I want to write, I have stumbled over a truth that has lain dormant within me for so long. That little bubble of sadness I feel when my friends talk about their classes and professors and finals...it's not sadness. It is jealousy. I was supposed to be sitting next to her in class! I was supposed to be experiencing those finals, the ones they complain about so much, from the inside.

I don't want to be amazing anymore. I want to be a regular girl like everyone else. I want to move forward in life, not sit around waiting for...for nothing. For everything. For what?

My sisters and sisters-in-law all went to college. They all have degrees. They all moved on and up in life. They have well-paying jobs where they use their brains, they think a little. But Dry Eyes made the decision to help her family out financially, rather than use this money for her schooling or to save up for her wedding. How noble of her, no? But does tzedakah even count if you resent every penny? Do I still get a mitzvah if every dollar is a stab inside my heart? Is there schar for someone who gives money but feels like running to hide so she shouldn't have to?
Is it a mitzvah to give if I do it simply because I see no other way?

Looking back at the past year, at all the money I made, I am impressed with myself. Combine my lowly secretarial job, all the overtime hours I am allowed to put in, and a whole bunch of odd-jobs on the side, and I made a considerable amount of money in the past year.

But where has it gotten me? I could have paid for a lot more than a year's tuition. Probably a master's tuition. I could have bought myself a lexus. I could have saved up a bunch of money to make up for not getting financial support after I get married. I could have a closet full of clothes to rival the fanciest girls in town. I could have.....done a lot of things.

But I did nothing. A year has gone by, and I am at the exact same place as I was last year. (Minus a couple thousand dollars.) I have gone nowhere. I have saved nothing. And it's not as if my money has made such a difference to my family. We are falling apart either way. The house is in foreclosure, the collectors call daily, the IRS is on our case, what help have I even been?

And so, I feel this sense of restlessness, of wanting to go somewhere. And it is getting me down. The "me" of yesterday doesn't even recognize the "me" of today. The "me of yesterday was so carefree, so hopeful. And the "me" of today has nothing. Not a degree, a car, a husband....not even a plan. And the "me" of today has hope, only the "me" of today's hope is represented by the intangible straws of bitachon that she is grasping at.

I can't indulge myself often. I didn't buy the shoes, even though they were cute and I need new shoes because I didn't want to spend the money. I don't indulge myself in a new wedding outfit, even though my close friend is getting in a week and I really need it, because I don't want to spend the money. I didn't even indulge myself on the two dollar ice cream the other night, because I choke over wasted money like that. But tonight I will indulge myself. I will allow myself to wallow in self pity for a bit. At least that is free.

An Additional Nisayon

I was speaking to a very wise woman today, and she gave me an amazing perspective on things.
We were discussing life challenges, and how sometimes it is so hard to see a master plan, but that it's always there. She mentioned how some people have it so hard, and you just can't understand G-d's plan for them.
So then I mentioned to her that there is a perception issue involved. That there are people who seem to be suffering through very similar situations, and yet one can walk around with a permanent frown and everyone feels so bad for them, while the other can hold her head up and smile and the world can forget that she is going through anything.
So I concluded that it is a large part your perception of the situation, not just the situation itself.

So this woman gave me an amazing perspective, that I want to share with you.

The person who is miserable and thinks that nobody in the world knows any suffering that is more extreme than what they endure.....they don't want to be like that. It is their emotional makeup, and thus part of their nisayon. Would they rather be one of those "cope"ers, who can fly around the world giving lectures on dealing with tough situations? Sure they would! But they have an added nisayon. Their emotional makeup prevents them from dealing with things as well as they wish they would. It is not necessarily a cognitive choice, but rather an added test from G-d.

Contrasts

Isn't it sad, to see these two ads side by side on a newspaper page:
On one side, there is an ad for a beautiful, luxurious pesach hotel, featuring five star entertainment and even better cuisine. In an effort to outdo each of the other pesach hotels, you can now go almost anywhere in the globe. On the other side there is an urgent appeal for a tzedakah of some sort. Whether it's a family heavily in debt due to medical bills, or a father who lost his job in the economic crisis, or a yesoma who is engaged and desperately needs money for her wedding...
Either way, the contrast is sickening. Do you realize, that while some people are wining and dining on the finest cuisine, there are some people who are eating the absolute barest minimum? People who wouldn't even be able to dream of a fancy hotel for one night, and definitely not for a week? That there are people out there who are turning to kimcha depischa funds, not because it doesn't make them sick, but
simply because without it, their family would not have matzoh, and all the other things they need for yom tov.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not jealous. I love yom tov at home. Even at the peak of my parents wealth, it never occurred to my parents to go away. But it makes me sad, nonetheless. I'll admit, it's a test to my bitachon. It's hard to see such contrasts.

I'm not sure what my point is in writing this. I am not, chas v'shalom trying to put the caterers out of business. This is their parnassah. And I am not trying to say that they are all overly luxurious. I've heard that some are reasonably priced, and have excellent shiurim, and are really nice. But....it's not only the extreme luxuries of the pesach hotels. It's the overall attitude of our generation. I know people have lost money in the 'financial crisis', but what do they give up first? Their monthly contributions to some charitable cause, or their fancy vacations, luxury cars, and home renovations?
Again, I don't think I'm going to accomplish much by saying that. I'm not, as someone suggested, going to set up a paypal button on the side
of my blog for people who want to help my family. (The idea makes me laugh. I don't know why...but...the idea is so chutzpadik...and funny.) I'm simply asking you to think. Think if you really need something. Think what usage of your money will get you the furthest in the long run. Think about people who are less fortunate than you are. Think about people who don't have the choices you have.
And give. Open your hearts, you pockets, and give.

A Memory....

"Uh, Dry Eyes, I don't know how to ask you..."

"What Tatty?"

"Well, um, I have some bills and...."

"Tatty, do you need money?"

"I hate to ask you Dry Eyes, but..."

"Tatty, it's my pleasure. How much do you need?"

"I hate to do this Dry Eyes....but I need $2,000"

"Not a problem Tatty. Let me get a check."

(takes out checkbook, begins writing, davening meanwhile for the right words to come to mind.)

"Here it is Tatty."

"Dry Eyes, thanks you...I feel terrible to take like this"

"Tatty, after everything you and Mommy have given me and done for me, this is nothing. Really, the least I could do to repay you."

As the smile returned to my fathers face, and that proud-business-man look replaced the ashamed-of-stooping-so-low look once again, I had to thank Hashem for putting the right words into my mouth. B"H.....

The Miracle Of Daily Life

"Do you want to witness a miracle? It’s simple. Close your eyes. Then open them. If you are blessed enough to see, you have just experienced millions of cells working in tandem to produce a unique vision of the world in front of you--and the miracle then continues and changes by the millisecond."

This was the beginning of an email my friend sent me (from the hakhel daily email). I thought it was a beautiful lesson, and had to share. It reminded me of an important lesson I have learned along my journey.
I used to think that having bitachon in Hashem, that He would provide for me, meant believing He could do a miracle. I thought I was guaranteed to get lots of money in some miraculous way.
Maybe I would win the lottery.
Maybe I would fall in walmart and sue them for a million dollars.
Maybe I would find a wallet lying on the street with a million dollars of cash in it.
Maybe I would dig in my backyard and find a well of natural gas.
Maybe some relative I didn't know I had would die and leave his fortune to me.

Then I learned that it doesn't have to come by way of miracles. Hashem can send me the money I need in the most mundane form.
I can get a raise at my job.
I can get a rebate on a purchase I made.
I can get a bigger tax return than I thought I was going to get.

Now I realize that there is no difference between the two. Is it more miraculous for me to find a wallet with loads of cash in it than for me to get a raise at my job? Is it a easier for Hashem to arrange a tax return than a winning lottery ticket?

My life is full of miracles, at every turn, in every breath that I take.

When I wake up in the morning,
it's a miracle.
When I walk on my own two feet,
it's a miracle.
When I go to work,
it's a miracle.
When I eat lunch, and the food gets digested,
it's a miracle.
When my car starts,
it's a miracle.
When I find shoes on sale,
it's a miracle.
When I fall asleep at night,
it's a miracle.
Everything I do,
is a miracle.