As soon as I ask Sari, “Did you daven yet?” I know I goofed. Just a minute ago, I peeked into the living room and spied her spinning on the glider, perusing a magazine. Why did I think she’d been davening? Because she told me she was going to. Okay, but knowing Sari as I do, I should have realized. My third grader does not like davening. Not in school and not at home.
This doesn’t faze me. I recall a shiur I once heard by Rabbi Shimshon Pincus. A parent asked him, “What’s wrong with my child? He doesn’t enjoy davening.” To which Rav Pincus, in his classic style, answered. “He’s a little kid. There would be something wrong with him if he did enjoy it.” So, I’m not worried about Sari; I’m sure her tefila will come with time. I try to gently encourage her to open her siddur on Shabbos and Sunday, when she’s home from school, and I don’t sense any resentment on her part. It’s just that she won’t initiate davening on her own, and when she has a chance, she’ll try to wiggle out of it – like the way she’s trying now.
But I don’t give up that easily. I try another tack: “So daven again, sweetie,” I say, despite the fact that she and I both know she hasn’t yet davened at all. At least this way she can save face. Sari pouts, resisting. Then I get a brainstorm: “You know, I never saw you daven Shemoneh Esrei. Could you show me the way you learned to do it in school, and I’ll watch you?”
There we go. I see a flash of pride spark up in her green eyes. “Okay, but watch me the whole time!” Hmm. Now it’s me having second thoughts.
“But Sari, the other children are around,” I reason. “They might need me. I’m not sure if I can watch you every second!”
“No, watch me, Mommy!” Resigned but inwardly triumphant, I perch myself on the couch and lean back, the baby on the floor in front of me, the two-year-old balanced on my knees. “Mommy,” Sari begins seriously, “some girls in my class, they think Shemoneh Esrei is a race. I don’t. When I daven, I think about what the words mean.”
I felt a swell of pride. Maybe I’ve misjudged my little girl. Well, no time to ponder; the show is about to begin. Sari holds her blue siddur, the one we bought her especially so she’d have an identical siddur to the one in school. She faces the wall, wedged between the couch and the end table, and begins. Six baby steps back. Six? I thought it was three! I keep quiet, watching. Six little steps forward, she bends her knees, leans forward and springs back up, whispering the words the way her morah taught her, loud enough so she can hear herself, quietly enough so that no one else can. Except Hashem. Her eyes gaze intently at the large black print. Another perky little bow. I watch her eyes swing right to left across the white page. Swish. She turns the page. The little girls catch the mood and stay quiet. Sari is whispering, whispering. What is she thinking? Oh right, about what the words mean. Swish. Another page turns. Sari looks up and glances at me gazing right at her, just as she wants. She gives a conspiratorial, slightly harassed little grin and turns back to her siddur.
Cutie pie. How I love this girl. I’m so proud of her, davening like a pro. I often tell the children that Hashem loves when little boys and girls daven, and He listens carefully to their tefilos (prayers). I tell the parable of the small boy who was able to squeeze through a narrow window and unlock the city gates from within. So, too, the prayers of innocent little children have the power to break through barriers and reach Hashem in places where we grown-ups are barred entry. I continue musing, watching Sari sway gently in place. She’s so sincere, my sweet little girl, saying the age-old words earnestly: Refeinu, heal us; hashiveinu Avinu, return us to your Torah; slach lanu, forgive us; barech aleinu, bless us; shema koleinu, hear our voices; shalom, bring peace. Sari can do so much for us adults, for the Jewish nation, I marvel.
If Sari would realize the strength of her prayers, what would she daven for? I think of the big things in her busy little life. “Please Hashem,” Sari might say, “Let me trade some great napkins today….Please let me get a good bunk in camp…. Please let my mommy come early to the school play and get a front row seat so I can see her when I say my part….Please let there be no homework today, and let there be very good nosh at Shabbos party, and let me learn how to swim for real this summer.”
But who will daven for the big things, the ones she truly needs in life? I wonder. The answer is so obvious. My eyes begin to fill even as I continue to keep them fixed on Sari’s slight figure. Fervently, the words begin to spill from a place deep with me. “Hashem, please! Hear my impromptu prayers, the ones I don’t say often enough but really truly desire with all my heart and soul! Please let my Sari grow from a sincere young girl into a sincere young woman. Let her always have teachers who will bring out the good in her, who will inspire her and guide her on the right path. Let her stay on that path all her life long, and let her find friends and mentors who will help her grow and always be there for her. Please, let the rough parts of her personality become smooth and polished, and let her have the self-esteem so essential to inner joy. Hashem, let her become a real davener and turn to You always for everything in life. Please, let her get through being a teenager without too much turmoil, and let our relationship stay forever close and warm, even when she’s a teenager and even when she marries. Oh! And please, Hashem, send her a good chassan at the right time, a boy with golden middos and a desire to learn your holy Torah. Please let her have many children, sweet children who will bring her much nachas, and they should always be healthy, and should have a good parnassa, and her children should find good shidduchim…”
I am startled out of my intense whisperings by Sari taking three sep forward and bouncing on her toes, once, twice, three times. She plants a soft kiss on the cover of her siddur and looks at me expectantly, waiting. I break free of my reverie and smile at her.
“Sari,” I exclaim, “Wow, what a treat! I’m so happy I got to watch you daven. You were looking inside and saying every word so carefully. Wow!” Grateful, Sari twitches her ponytail.
“Now can I go out and play with Rochie?”
“Of course, sweetheart, have fun!” And off she goes into the warm morning, never knowing how much her Shemoneh Esrei affected me and, through me, her own future, her life.
