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.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
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...
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...
Monday, May 11, 2009
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)
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)
Sunday, May 3, 2009
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...
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...
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