I had great intentions and ideas for my future. I hoped Washington DC had more resources for me and my family. I intended to do more for my new Jewish community and to learn more on my way to be more observant. Those were my thoughts as I was chasing my daughter around the premises of the Chabad Center of Northern Virginia during Rosh Ha Shona Services.
My 20-month-old toddler grabbed my skirt and was afraid to enter the room full of children. She didn’t want to listen to the story of Apples and Honey or eat the apples. She then went to the wall full of toys and stayed in her world. She was never afraid of strangers before. She smiles and responds to everyone talking to her. Yet, the amount of people that day made her cranky, whiny, and obstinate. She disrupted the children’s service, then ran to disrupt the Teen service, and finished that off by wondering to the men side of the sanctuary. She went through the rows of men, looking into each face to find her father on the last row. Well, at least we now know that she will not go with a stranger willingly.
My new-year-resolutions began before Rosh-Ha-Shonah but my progress is at a halt before Yom Kipur. I wanted to find better psychiatric care for my mother. Turns out, services covered by Medicare are scarce. The appointments are not booked for March. We have to drive on Shabbat to sit three hours in a waiting room of a Walk-In clinic. We get new combination of psych meds and are charged around $200 at the pharmacy. And at the end of the day, my mother still refuses to participate in life. She comes out when she smells the food and stuffs her face.
Taking my mother to Shull is more trouble then it’s worth. It is an extra whiny toddler, except this one I can’t pick up and carry when I need to.
Because my mother lives with me, I have less time for my daughter, I have no time for my writing, and I have no time for my husband. I am beginning to resent my kitchen. My laundry machines are always working. The TV is playing the same cartoons over and over. I have no time to think. My shopping lists always end up missing that crucial item that alters my recopies, my to do lists, and my scheduling. All of which go out of the window because the baby is teething or I get a cold.
In the middle of altering yet another plan, Ari Fuld is killed. My husband’s hero is dead. All of my frustrations with unhanged pictures, unpacked boxes, and missing wardrobe items become trivial. There is no question anymore what to be thankful for or where to give Tzedaka.
So what if my daughter starts preschool after her second birthday. I can accept that she doesn’t speak yet and that her talents will take time to emerge. Sometime in the future I will get to looking for modeling opportunity for my Shirly Temple look alike. But on days like today, I let her run around with paper trash from the recycle box instead of causing a temper tantrum of the terrible twos.
I can live with finishing set up of this house by the time it’s time to move. I can live with small steps on the way to the Kosher kitchen. I can live with 30-year linoleum that is coming up in the kitchen and causing me to trip. I can live with a gas stovetop that clicks attempting to ignite three burners instead of one.
After all, I have my terrific husband who is alive and well. He is working for this family with all of it’s limitations of physical disabilities and metal illness. Somehow in it he sees the greatest baby that ever came to be and the best Jewish wife in the world. His criteria for the best wife is simly someone who let him morn his hero and lit a Yortsayt candle in the dining room.
The lesson of the day – It doesn’t take much to realize you have all that matters. The lesson I still have to learn; however, is forgiveness and acceptance. It would be impossible to forgive Ari Fuld’s death. It will be very hard to accept my mother as someone neither alive nor dead.
Something tells me that running after my daughter all over the Shull during Yom Kipur is not going to do it. I predict we will leave before the service is over, but I think Ha-Shem will understand.
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