Sometimes You Do Everything Right

My father is a very healthy man.  He eats right, exercises regularly, and keeps close tabs on his blood pressure and cholesterol.  Partly because he is a physician and knows the consequences of neglecting one's body, and partly because of his family history of heart problems that put him at high risk.  He does everything in the book to take care of himself.  He told me very recently that he had a few routine checkups; everything looked good, including his cholesterol levels.

And yet he still suffered a heart attack yesterday.

Thank God, he caught it early and was treated before the muscle was permanently damaged.  He is feeling good and will spend the next few days in the hospital for monitoring before being released and assuming his regular lifestyle.  Modern medicine is amazing.  I often stop to think about how dramatically different life would be without it.  My husband wouldn't have survived childhood.  My dad would be gone.  My son would be blind.  My husband said yesterday there should be a blessing for living in such times of wealth and health as the world has never seen before.

I remember people saying that they were afraid to come to Israel because of the risk of being caught in a terror attack.  I guess having every attack blasted across the news manages to drown out the minor fact that even in the worst days of the Intifada, one was at a significantly higher risk of dying from an accident in the comfort of their own cars.  In any case, I think my father's story comes as one example of the fact that we are not in charge.  We can--and should!--do everything in our power to keep ourselves safe, but things can still happen.  Part of the problem with the control attitude is that we tend to blame ourselves--and others--when things go wrong.  We need to remember that sometimes things just happen.  God is in charge and He knows what He's doing, even if we don't.  We have to keep our faith that it's for the best, even if we can't see how.




posted in prayer for the full recovery of my father, לרפואת אבי ומורי ר' זהבי יהודה לייב בן ברכה שיחיה

Oranges.

Did you ever notice how oranges come pre-sliced?

That is, if you have the patience to peel them.

When I was a little girl I thought they were manufactured that way.

I guess they were.  Just not by people.

If you take the time to examine the fruit, it really is a beautiful and intricate thing.  Hundreds of tiny membrane sacs containing the juice, packed together in separate pieces, also separated by membranes, each with a few scattered seeds.  All packaged nicely in a sphere of spongy rind, smooth and aromatic.

Quite an exquisite design.

Blessed are You, God, our Lord, King of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the tree.

How Does One Begin a Blog Like This?

I suppose very simply: with the story of its conception.

It's been long in the works.  I would trace it back to around eight years ago when I was still a dreamy high school student who first started experiencing and acknowledging remazim.  (I called them "signs".)  I thought then of writing a collection of beautiful stories of Divine serendipity, but my own experiences were just not grand enough for a book.  How can you really make a reader understand the significance of a gentle breeze fingering one's hair, or the sunflower painting in the emergency room's radiology office?  It was a little embarrassing to even talk about.  I'm not sure why.  Was I worried that my experiences were too personal?  Was I afraid that people would judge me as being falsely spiritual, or just fanciful, reading too much into mundane occurrences?  Or even sinful, simplifying Divinity and almost putting words in God's mouth?  Even in the religious world from which I came, speaking about God as a close personal friend was... kind of weird.  Awkward.

Unfortunately I felt I have lost that simple connection, and I am now dealing with finding the joy and connection in a more mature and complex relationship with the Almighty.  This blog will hopefully be part of that journey.

Yesterday I visited the Museum of Psalms for the first time.  It's a little exhibit tucked in the alleyways of downtown Jerusalem, technically part of the Rabbi Kook House.  On display are many of the 150 paintings by Moshe Zvi Berger that depict the 150 chapters of Psalms.  I was deeply inspired by his work, especially after having read his explanations of his use of symbolism: the different Hebrew letters, the seven colors representing the Divine Attributes, and the various motifs and shapes.  I decided that my favorite painting was this one:

It depicts Psalm 107, and specifically verses 8-9:  "Let them thank the Lord for His lovingkindness, for the wonders He does for man.  For He has quenched the thirsty soul, and filled the hungry soul with goodness."

Above the birds, you can see the four letters of the Tetragrammaton, the name of God, arranged in a reflection of the bird nourishing her young ones.  The Vav is the arm, symbolizing connection between God and man; the first Heh is the Divine hand, giving the Yud, the ultimate and infinite essence of Divinity, to the receiving Heh, which is the hand of man.  Below the letters are the birds in the nest, the mother bird feeding the Yud to her hungry young, who are cradled in a nest of mercy (blue), beauty (green) and purple (wisdom).

So simple.  So beautiful.  So meaningful.

The painting reminded me of remazim and made me feel like expressing and sharing them.

So here we are.  I hope this blog will help me increase my own awareness and draw me closer to the Romez (the Hinter); and maybe, on the way... you as well.