-This post was originally published on http://thoughts4mysoul.wordpress.com/
I feel the need to share, and since that seems to me to be the point of blogging, I have come back to this blog to write.
We are now in the final 24 hours before Yom Kippur, and I feel…well, I don’t really know. I’m not so good at “feeling.” I like to hide behind intellectualism, rationalization and anxiety. Sounds like a lovely cup of tea, doesn’t it - but it is the truth.
I had a beautiful Rosh Hashana. We had lots of company, the children let me daven and make it to shofar blowing in the morning (and hear the shofar), and some good friends took me up on my offer to hang at my house with their kids for a bit. Being able to daven was nice, but I must admit that I did have to rush threw Mussaf (the first day 18-month-old Yaakov was busy climbing on the dining room table right in front of me!)
And I actually managed to say shemona asrei a few times this week (even remembering to ad HaMelech HaKadosh)!
But did I improve myself. I don’t feel improved. I yelled at the kids at least once…no at least 4 or 5 times…each day, even though I tried to hold my temper. I goofed off when I should have been working hard (although I did comp the time later in the day).
This afternoon an electrician was working on my house. He was there from 1 o’clock on and was working with the front doors both open because he had his equipment lined up the hall and was working on the porch. This was fine…except that my children come home at 3. They watched him with me for a while and then went to have snacks and we all went about our lives as usual. Yaakov generally has free reign in the house and I forgot the door was open. At around 4 I was finishing a project on my laptop in the dining room. I stood up and walked into the hallway to find Yaakov standing in front of the inside front door (leading to a small hallway and the real front door) staring straight out on a clear run into the very very busy street in front of our house. The electrician had gone to his car (and stopped to shmooze with a potential customer) and had left the doors wide open. My reactions were everywhere, mostly though I was just grateful that nothing had happened. Trust me, Yaakov is the type of kid who will walk out.
Then my anxiety kicked in. The what-if film strip kept running in my head. I shudder inside every time I envision exactly what could have happened. It’s stupid, because it didn’t happen. Thinking about it later that night I realize that there are so many incidents each day which go just right, where nothing happens, and I lack that emotion, that feeling, of true gratitude to Hashem. I think about it. I say Baruch Hashem and I recognize how lucky I am, but I don’t feel like I connect to the emotion enough.
Emuna and bitachon have always been a struggle for me. I have friends who I feel can so tangibly relate to the Divine in the world (the people who really know how to say tehillim, you know what I mean), and it is those people of whom I am most jealous. I often joke to myself that if I were to go to a great rebbe or a mekubal I would ask for a bracha in emuna.
I have rambled a bit, and I apologize. Tonight starts the final day before Yom Kippur and I am scared. Alas, I wish I could honestly say I stand in awe of the process of judgment around me, but, in truth, I am scared of dealing with 4 small kids on the fast day, of getting everything done tomorrow like I need to…and then, too, I am scared of coming away unchanged.
In a Jewish life that puts so much value on self-improvement, I often want to cry out with tears: “But I don’t know how to change! It is too hard and I don’t even know how to begin!” (I cry it to myself, certainly.) That moment is emotional, however, and once I touch it, something within me jumps back and leaps away from the thought.
This year, Hashem, as the gates of heaven are open to our prayers…please open the floodgate within my heart, for I cannot do it on my own! Let me truly express how thankful I am to all that you have given me and let me feel the safety of your fatherly embrace.
–gmar chatima tova
I had a beautiful Rosh Hashana. We had lots of company, the children let me daven and make it to shofar blowing in the morning (and hear the shofar), and some good friends took me up on my offer to hang at my house with their kids for a bit. Being able to daven was nice, but I must admit that I did have to rush threw Mussaf (the first day 18-month-old Yaakov was busy climbing on the dining room table right in front of me!)
And I actually managed to say shemona asrei a few times this week (even remembering to ad HaMelech HaKadosh)!
But did I improve myself. I don’t feel improved. I yelled at the kids at least once…no at least 4 or 5 times…each day, even though I tried to hold my temper. I goofed off when I should have been working hard (although I did comp the time later in the day).
This afternoon an electrician was working on my house. He was there from 1 o’clock on and was working with the front doors both open because he had his equipment lined up the hall and was working on the porch. This was fine…except that my children come home at 3. They watched him with me for a while and then went to have snacks and we all went about our lives as usual. Yaakov generally has free reign in the house and I forgot the door was open. At around 4 I was finishing a project on my laptop in the dining room. I stood up and walked into the hallway to find Yaakov standing in front of the inside front door (leading to a small hallway and the real front door) staring straight out on a clear run into the very very busy street in front of our house. The electrician had gone to his car (and stopped to shmooze with a potential customer) and had left the doors wide open. My reactions were everywhere, mostly though I was just grateful that nothing had happened. Trust me, Yaakov is the type of kid who will walk out.
Then my anxiety kicked in. The what-if film strip kept running in my head. I shudder inside every time I envision exactly what could have happened. It’s stupid, because it didn’t happen. Thinking about it later that night I realize that there are so many incidents each day which go just right, where nothing happens, and I lack that emotion, that feeling, of true gratitude to Hashem. I think about it. I say Baruch Hashem and I recognize how lucky I am, but I don’t feel like I connect to the emotion enough.
Emuna and bitachon have always been a struggle for me. I have friends who I feel can so tangibly relate to the Divine in the world (the people who really know how to say tehillim, you know what I mean), and it is those people of whom I am most jealous. I often joke to myself that if I were to go to a great rebbe or a mekubal I would ask for a bracha in emuna.
I have rambled a bit, and I apologize. Tonight starts the final day before Yom Kippur and I am scared. Alas, I wish I could honestly say I stand in awe of the process of judgment around me, but, in truth, I am scared of dealing with 4 small kids on the fast day, of getting everything done tomorrow like I need to…and then, too, I am scared of coming away unchanged.
In a Jewish life that puts so much value on self-improvement, I often want to cry out with tears: “But I don’t know how to change! It is too hard and I don’t even know how to begin!” (I cry it to myself, certainly.) That moment is emotional, however, and once I touch it, something within me jumps back and leaps away from the thought.
This year, Hashem, as the gates of heaven are open to our prayers…please open the floodgate within my heart, for I cannot do it on my own! Let me truly express how thankful I am to all that you have given me and let me feel the safety of your fatherly embrace.
–gmar chatima tova
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