Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost.

Perhaps one of these days I'll change the name of my blog to "All about Noam".

Today we were in the kitchen, I was preparing dinner and Noam, propped up on a chair next to me, was cracking open pistachio nuts quietly to himself. I think I added that detail in for the mothers out there looking for some insight as to how to get dinner prepared with a toddler in your midst.

"I'm a bad boy." He says breaking the silence suddenly.

"What did you say?" I asked him in shock.

"I'm a bad boy." He repeated.

Now I'm not sure where he got this from as we are very careful in our house not to ever say such things but whatever the case, he said it.

"You are not a bad boy. You are a good boy, and sometimes you do things that are not good." I explained.

Judaism says that we are in essence good. We are made up of a body and a soul. Our soul wants to do only good things. Our body on the other hand, is designed in a way that makes us move towards our more animalistic desires. Now that is not to say that the physical world is bad and only spiritual lofty pursuits are good. In fact, the complete opposite according to the Torah.

The goal of this world is to take those mundane, physical things and make them into Holy acts.

It is important for us to decipher who we are versus what we do.

I am a good person and sometimes I make wrong choices. I am not my wrong choices.

Now I definitely believe that our choices make up who we will become but in essence, deep down underneath it all, we are all sparks of Divinity and therefore we are all made up of something that is somewhat 'perfect'. We do have the free will in this world to taint that beautiful gift we were given but that's the only way we can possibly get any reward from any of our good actions. It has to go two ways.

When my father in law passed away recently, I experienced something very profound. We were at the funeral home just prior to the procession and they let the family go in and view the body. To preface, I only realized later that I'm not sure if this is a Jewish custom or not and should have asked a Rabbi first but I'm going to share with you my insights as to what happened.

I was pretty nervous and I think my perception of death has been jaded by Hollywood that I was almost expecting to see something morbid. But that's not what happened at all. I looked over from very far away and all I could see was Zaidy's (Grandpa's) face, his body wrapped until his neck in his son's (my husband's) Tallis (prayer shawl). It was his beautiful face, just like it was a few days earlier when he was living. It was as if a white light was surrounding his face and he looked very much at peace.

Isn't that just so cliche? As I was writing it I thought to myself, how lame. He probably looked so white because he was pale from all the blood draining and the peacefulness was because he looked like he was sleeping.

It was just him, lying there with his eyes closed. There was no white light, no halo, no violin, no angels dancing around his face. It was almost as if he was going to open his eyes and say hello. It didn't' seem real at all. In fact, I think it was the most surreal thing I had ever felt in my entire life. But that wasn't the profound lesson. The profound lesson was the following:

What I was looking at, experiencing, was something we speak about all the time yet have no real way of touching.

For the first time in my life, I was looking at the physical world and the spiritual world all at the same time.

You see, just a couple of days before this moment I was in, I was speaking to Zaidy, laughing with him, and connecting to him. And now I was looking at his body, but 'he' wasn't there.

WHERE IS HE?

WHERE ARE WE?

It shook me to the core and I could only remain standing on my two feet for as long as it took me to run out of the room and find a chair to sit on.

If we are really sensitive to the reality around us, it is very simple for us to find where we are. We know it inside. We don't need some guru to tell us. We need to look deep within ourselves and realize the things we already know are true.

We know we are more than just this body. We know we are something much greater. And we know that just because we can't make huge steps towards moving in that direction, we can still make small steps and they are probably much more real and long lasting anyway.

Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost.

Ouch

Whenever I accidentally hurt Noam, the most unusual thing happens. He comes rushing over to me, hugs me and doesn't want me to let him go.

I've often thought about this bizarre occurrence because really, if you think about it, it's the opposite of what adults do isn't it?

When someone hurts us, intentionally or not, we run away from them! We get angry at them, assume the worst and run the other way drowning ourselves in our own self pity.

What if we could learn from our children that the secret to healthy communication, with our friends, spouse even with God, is not to run away. What if we could learn from this that the reality is the people in our lives don't really want to hurt us they want what's best for us and we should embrace it. Even if it means swallowing up our own ego and running towards them with open, vulnerable arms.

The embrace is enough to leave us realizing and really feeling that the best remedy for our pain is to run towards the ones we love, and allow them to love us.

Perhaps along the way adults learn to stop trusting each other?

The guy trusts me because my track record with him is perfect so he knows he can always trust me. He may still come to me with a confused look like why did that happen but the bottom line is, he comes to me instead of running away.

Perhaps we need to figure out how to learn to trust again?

We don't have tomorrow

He was right in front of me. At least I thought. I turned the corner of the long corridor from the laundry room in the building towards the elevator hearing his voice and then a second later nothing. Silence. Noam was gone.

I stood in the humid hallway holding a pile of wet shirts and some change in absolute shock. The whistling and thumping noises of the machines in the background faded into the screams of my helpless 2.5 year old little guy who had stepped into the elevator too early without his mommy.

My body became numb, I could not figure out what to do first. I wanted to jump through the walls. The poor guy is not even tall enough to reach the buttons, let alone old enough to understand how an elevator works. I could hear the elevator chain working, I ran upstairs.

I reached the third floor and could hear him more clearly now. If I tell you that at this moment I would do anything to get my son back in my arms I'm not exaggerating. I can somewhat understand now temporary insanity, perhaps. I began to scream. He was screaming. We were screaming together. In the final moments before I had completely lost it, the door opened as if in slow motion and a helpless little guy, pacifier in face, tears streaming down his red cheeks stood there in utter despair.

And then the embrace.

He ran into my arms and we sat on the floor crying together for what seemed like hours. We were both so happy to be holding each other, as if we doubted for a moment that it might not have turned out this way. In reality the entire event took place in about 3.5 minutes.

"You cannot run away from your mommy, when you are not with your mommy you get lost. You are not a big boy that can go on his own, you are little. You need to stay with me. You will get lost without me."

To which his reply was, "I'm big."

God tells us, stay close to me. Let me guide you. I am your Abba (Father) your Imma (Mother), you will get lost without me.

But we think, "I'm Big. I can do this on my own."

It has been quite some time since I have sat down to write. Just over a month ago my beloved father in law, John Yonah Krongold a'h (peace be upon him) passed away suddenly. It is a tragic loss for our family.

John was the most healthy and active 56 year old man I've met. A vegetarian, he managed a local band, ran triathlons, took spinning classes, swam and that was all leisurely. My husband and I moved back from Israel last summer, after living there for 5 years. We had our hesitations about moving back. Since coming home John aka Zaida (grandpa in Yiddish) spent a lot of quality time with his grandchildren. He made sure to only work in order to live and not live in order to work. He planned his days in a way that ensured time for himself, exercise, and of course family time. We don't have any hesitations now about our move. This past year was a year we will treasure for the rest of our lives.

This is not a eulogy for Zaida. If you want to hear my husband's eulogy for his father I'd be happy to send it to you through email if you haven't heard it already. It is inspiring to say the least. This is just my way of finally being able to sit and write and not break down at the thought of writing about Zaida's passing. It's very hard.

I'm not sure why the elevator incident finally prompted me to sit down and write but there was something so real and deep about the experience that it brought me to the computer. Through this entire mourning experience I can honestly say that it has felt like God has been telling us (I'm speaking only about my husband and I) you need to stay with me, you will get lost without me.

Many people have asked me how the Abba is able to be so strong. How is he so positive? People left the shiva (house of mourning) feeling consoled by him rather than the opposite. In truth it seems very simple in his eyes as he tells me. Death is a very real part of life. It is not an abstract concept that we don't know about. We have very clear and real details about exactly what happens to the soul after it leaves this world. What happens in the first moments, the first days, months, first year and after that. The Torah is very specific in its details and we learn from this that death is not a morbid and gloomy thing that we should try not to think about. Rather, quite the opposite. It is something we should be real about every moment that we are alive.

In Judaism, a Torah home and the rituals and customs of everyday life are set up in a way not to allow us to forget that one day we will die. We wake up in the morning and the first words on our lips are "Thank you for another day!" We begin our day with many blessings regarding the life we were given, "thank you for giving me clarity, for making me a woman, for giving me wisdom to choose, free will, the breath of life."

Our week is set up in a way that we are always focused on the end goal which is Shabbat. Shabbat is not a day of "rest" in the sense of turning off. It's a reminder. One day, you will no longer be here. Think about your week, reflect and plan better the following week.

The Abba said in his eulogy and speaks often about it now, that it seems we all think there is this 'club' of people who die, and we know we're not in that club. It is as if we actually have made ourselves beleive that we will somehow be here forever. It is the only way to explain the way we live. We know we should or could do more in certain areas of our lives, relationships etc., yet we keep pushing it off until tomorrow, certain that there is a tomorrow.

We don't have tomorrow.

It is not just a nice line that you read on a postcard from India, it's reality. The past is gone and tomorrow is not certain. All we have is today and if we don't grab a hold of today we missed it.

If there was some way of knowing how long you had left to live, and you had a clock on your wall counting down the years, days, minutes and seconds, would you let a second go by without living in total reality, or at least strive to know what reality is?

Would you be more awake?

Who would you call to tell them you love them?

What mark would you leave on the world?

What would you put on your "not doing today" list?

How would you speak to a stranger you met on the street?

What would you plan to leave in this world after you were gone?

I tried to read this post over and don't have the emotional energy to do it so I hope I've made some sense of the thoughts in my head. And hopefully, this will be the post that helps me begin to write again. I kept thinking tomorrow I'll write. We don't have tomorrow. Zaida was one of my biggest fans, and now I know, I cannot let him down.

Team mommy gets the Gold

The music in the background is usually the tranquility of my day, but today it seems to be the thing that brings all the chaos together in one large symphony of crying babies and running water from the dishes. I'm scrambling to finish up the last of the dishes knowing that if I stop now I will never get to finish it today. The girl is propped up on her knees, tugging at me and whining to please pick her up as the guy runs around in circles, only a diaper on, and screams at the top of his lungs in a pitch even the music playing in the background can't seem drown out. Coupled with the sound of the hard running water and the cars outside honking, buses starting and stopping, I look up above my sink and glance at my sign that reads, "SMILE, LAUGH, YOU ARE SO LUCKY, GET OVER YOURSELF, IS LIFE SO HARD, YOU POOR THING, HEALTHY BABIES, AMAZING HUSBAND, GORGEOUS LIFE." See Bob is a Jerk post for reference. And I think to myself, no not what a wonderful world even though it is, I think,

"Wow parenting is hard work."

I'm not sure where anyone got the idea that parenting would be easy, or marriage, or relationships or really anything in life. But for some reason, so many of us still hold on to the idea that if we just do something right, read the right book, get the exact parenting tactic down, life will be very simple and serene, something like from the pages of a parenting magazine where the mother is wearing a wrinkle free linen suit in the middle of the day, her makeup is just perfect and her children are sitting next to her in a peaceful recline in their polished shoes while the light of day shines on their spotless, freshly cleaned floors.

I was recently out somewhere and an adorable girl who I've known for only a short while asked me, "How's life?" I told her, "Amazing!" She asked me what I do and as I began to tell her that I am with my two babies all day her face began to transform from one of delight to one of complete despair. She looked at me with so much empathy and said to me in the sweetest voice,

"You must be so tired!"

Yes, it's hard work. But it's like an Olympic athlete. He trains his whole life, focuses his entire strengths on just one thing, the gold medal. While he is training do you think it's easy? Do you think for a second he thinks to himself "when will this get easier?" The secret is that in life, our greatest pleasures come from the things that require the most effort. The more effort we put in, the greater the experience of pleasure we will feel. Who has more fun, the spectator watching the game or the Olympic athlete who is working so hard his body aches and cries for him to stop but he pushes through with his eye on the target? It seems that the spectator is having the most fun, besides he's the one with the beer in hand, body relaxed, couldn't get easier than this! It's true, that spectator is experiencing a dose of pleasure but the athlete is tapping into a much higher level of pleasure unmeasurable to the entire audience's experience put together. And I'm sure he's tired.

The deeper reality is that the pain he feels is actually the best feeling pain in the world. It's the feeling of accomplishment, of growth and of meaning.

Parenting is hard. We're tired. And it feels fantastic.

It's like my household's chaos is the American Hockey team in overtime and I'm team Canada. I'm going for the Gold.

Broken pipes and the Fast of Esther

Today is a fast day known as the Fast of Esther.

Today is day two of us not having running water in our apartment.

How are the two connected?

It's nearing the end of my fast, my husband has gone out to shul (synagogue), the kids are tucked in bed (after a baby wipe 'bath' of sorts) and I'm sitting on the couch in silence at the battlefield that is my home which was attacked by two very small predators who consume most of my day.

I can't help but think, did I actually grow spiritually from this fast? Isn't that what a fast is supposed to do? What did I get out of it besides diapers, playing with kids and broken pipes?

In Judaism, we learn that the aim of the fast of Esther is to affirm that man does not prevail by physical or military strength, rather by lifting his eyes heavenward in prayer so that God might give him strength to prevail in the battle.

This statement is packed with questions, but I'll just tell you how I caught a glimpse of what the fast is all about today from some broken pipes.

We have no water, and you can only think of all the inconveniences that we might be facing as a result of it. The Abba came home today and upon hearing that we still have no water, replied with "Wow thank God."

What is he talking about? I wanted to bite his head off.

But he explained:

The fact that you don't have water right now, is a testament to the fact that God loves you!

Oh now I was really losing it.

Please explain my dear, humor me.

The Abba went on to explain to me that it's really quite simple. If God didn't love us, He wouldn't be involved in our daily lives. He would just give us everything we need, at all times, no matter what so that we would never have the opportunity to even ask him for a single thing. If he didn't want a relationship with us, it would be very smart to just cut us off from Him, by giving us all that we need. Smart equation.

The Torah teaches that this is the reason why the snake in the Garden of Eden was cursed to slither on the ground. Before the snake sinned, he was a walking being of some sort. After he sinned, the curse put on him was that he would slither on the dust of the Earth, which in turn means he will always have his sustenance there for him without having to turn to God to ask for it.

Man on the other hand was put in the situation where he would only receive his sustenance through hard labor and toiling, which really means he would have to ask God for EVERYTHING.

Now if you want a close relationship with someone, you would probably choose the second option, and obviously God did. He wants to be close with us and therefore at times it might seem like a harsh punishment, but really all His messages and opportunities for us to reach out to Him are acts of love. Just like a father punishes a child to teach him a lesson, it is only done out of love. If the father didn't care, he would not waste his time trying to teach the child lessons about life.

And this is what the fast day teaches us. We are meant to stop for a day and recognize that we do not prevail by physical strength, rather by turning to God. We won't get the pipes fixed by getting all flared up about the 'bad plumber' or 'bad management'. I'm sure there are buildings with tremendous management and top of the line plumbers who sometimes can't solve every problem. The bottom line is we have to do our efforts in this world out of love, call the plumber call the city and of course pray, and God will in turn see that we are putting in our efforts all the while recognizing that He is ultimately the only One in charge.

All day I was trying to tap into the spiritual energy of this holy day and I have to say it is hard at times when you are so engulfed in the mundane activities of life. Changing diapers, feeding, putting to sleep, okay so today there was no bathing but still. You can get wrapped up in all of that if you don't stop to think 'what are the messages here, what am I trying to accomplish with this fast?'

And that's the story of Esther in a nutshell. Finding God in the hidden darkness of the world. If I can connect to the deeper meaning of my life and who I am and what I'm living for from diapers and feeding and broken pipes, then I can break through any darkness the world brings my way and find meaning in everything from the small 'insignificant' things, to the big issues we are meant to face in life.

Thank God for those broken pipes.

This is love, and it's beautiful.

Everyday, at 6:26p.m. the Abba walks in with a gigantic smile. He tells me it's the best part of his day, and I believe him because it's mine too. He hangs his coat, puts away his briefcase, and sits down at the table with me.

The first thing the Abba asks is, "So, how was their day?" in the most enthusiastic voice I have ever heard.

It's quite adorable, in so much as I know he really misses them during the day and can't wait to 'catch up' on all the things they've been up to. Most days, he hears the same things and each time he hears it its as if he's hearing it for the first time.

So tonight when I told the Abba about the guy's day, I learned a tremendous lesson about life and I had to share it.

Today the guy had an interesting day starting with a really early wake up time of 5:00 am, to a very rare 'short' nap as apposed to a 2 hour well rested nap, and some tantrums here and there. Yet, when the Abba asked how the guys day was, I told him all about how cute they were and how much they took care of each other and how much we all laughed!

Judaism teaches us that love is the feeling you get when you focus on the positive attributes of another person.

There is good and bad in this world. People have positive and negative traits and the most amazing feeling in the world is when you know someone so well that you can see both but you focus on the positive.

When I think of my family and my friends, I am able to focus on the positive. This is love. It's really not a complicated thing. It doesn't have to hurt and it doesn't have to be confusing. It's a pretty simple equation and we just have to realign our thinking to it. This is love, and it's beautiful.