Her eyes shining, her face glowing with a pure smile, she looked at me: “Tomorrow’s erev Shabbos!” she exclaimed.
From that very first day of camp, I realized I would learn a lot. But I never could have fathomed how much I would really learn.
* * *
Summer plans: two words I hashed and rehashed a thousand times, wondering what I would enjoy most. Camper in a sleep-a-away camp? Counselor in a day camp? Mother’s helper? Babysitter?
One friend was going here, the other there, and I couldn’t make a decision. Then my friend told me she’d applied to Camp Kesher, a camp for children with special needs – and she’d gotten in. If I wanted to apply, I had to do it soon.
And with that, I made a snap decision. Knowing almost nothing about the camp, I pressed “submit” on the application.
Several months later, whizzing past trees and mountains and quaint little houses, I wondered what I was getting myself into, what had spurred me to make a decision based on hardly any information. But, I was yet to learn, it was a decision I would never regret.
* * *
The first day of camp, Thursday, dawned bright and sunny, banishing all signs of yesterday’s wetness. My stomach was clenched and I was nervous, wondering what the day would bring with the arrival of the campers: their smiles, their laughter – and their challenges. What would my camper be like? What did she like to eat? What was her favorite color? Would she listen to me? Would she like me? And the most important question of all: Would I like her?
Soon, the busses arrived, a hubbub of hugs and dance and song. Luggage and campers tumbled haphazardly out of the buses, each one an individual package of love. I wandered around the chaotic scene, wondering which precious bundle would be mine for the summer. Was my camper one of the subdued children, dazed from her long trip, confused about her new surroundings? Or was she one of the rambunctious ones, running around in delicious, delightful abandon?
Finally, I met her. Her name was Blimi,* with a freckled face and adorable smile. It was sort of anticlimactic. A meeting that became the foundation for a flourishing relationship lasted all of 30 seconds. I introduced myself, she smiled, and then promptly requested a story. I grinned. How did she know I loved reading books? She chose a story about a child enjoying his trip to shul on Shabbos, and as I read, Blimi kept excitedly interjecting her comments. I smiled and laughed along with her, pointing and reading, enjoying her remarks. Soon, though, it was time for bed, and as I tried to prompt her into pajamas, I couldn’t help thinking that I had no idea what I was doing. In the midst of a hassle of questions and solutions and more interruptions, my patience was stretched to the limit. But, as she finally curled up in bed and gave me a goodnight hug, I casually mentioned that tomorrow was Friday. It was then that her face became radiant as she exclaimed, “Tomorrow is erev Shabbos!”
Tomorrow is erev Shabbos. Blimi’s comment echoed in my mind. Tomorrow is Erev Shabbos! Why don’t I look forward to Shabbos like Blimi does? Why am I not consciously aware of the powerful kedusha Shabbos contains? Thank you, Blimi, lesson learned: tomorrow is erev Shabbos.
* * *
The summer continued, a kaleidoscope of laughter, light, and love. Happiness swirled as the sunshine mingled with upbeat music, tears, smiles, challenges, and triumphs. The campers sang a song of love, emuna (faith), and hope, and the counselors joined, linking arms as we learned the melody of life and giving.
The campers taught us how to really look forward to Shabbos because it’s a day so holy, so special, and so separate from the rest of the week. They taught us the rhythm of their genuine joy, how the sparkle of happiness never leaves their faces despite the numerous challenges in their lives. They taught us that no matter what, there is always music pulsing in our hearts.
We learned from their hugs, warmth, and sincerity, from the way they so easily forgive. We learned to never give up, to persevere through struggles, to try so many times until we finally succeed. We learned to never judge, that appearances don’t matter, that the internals are the only things that count. We learned that the only way to truly love is through giving: giving of your time, energy, and most importantly, of your heart. And that question that I had in the beginning of the summer, of whether I would like my camper? Well, there is no way in the world to not love such a special person. It’s the type of all-encompassing love that comes only through giving, through learning, and through experiencing so many challenges and victories together.
* * *
Other girls who work with special needs children share their thoughts:
“They taught me to be happy,” says Shoshana Lieder, a dedicated Menucha volunteer. “A lot of the kids can’t move anywhere and can’t eat a lot of foods. Still, they are so happy; they smile and say hi, even though their lives are hard.”
Shana from Brooklyn, who, in addition to working extensively with children with special needs throughout the year and during the summer also has a sister with special needs, emphatically agrees. “Sometimes I wonder how it would be to have these physical or mental ailments, and I wonder, would I be happy? My sister is the one who truly outlined this for me. She smiles and laughs so often, and when I come home grumpy from a long day, she just knows the right way to cheer me up. I often think of her as my light in the darkness. She lights up the world in a positive way for me.”
In addition to their contagious happiness, the children also sincerely love every person they encounter, Shana continues. “We often categorize others based on their physical attributes, such as looks, surrounding factors, etc. These special children are often turned away because of this. But do they look down on us for how we look? Through all of my different experiences, I have noticed that they look at our insides; they truly see who we really are.
“I learned not to judge,” adds Chana, who worked in a camp for children with special needs this past summer. “Even if they look different, they are still people, and you need to respect them.”
Shoshana also explains that she learned patience. Sometimes the children don’t understand right away, and she has to repeat things numerous times. Shana concurs. “We are always worried about time, and we won't be happy if something or someone is even a minute late,” she observes. “While working or even just being around children with special needs, this area was tested to the fullest. I was forced to wait past my ‘patience level’ for various things, and it really helped me value time in a new light. Especially with children who were extra stubborn, I had to wait and slow down.”
Shana says that she learned not to give up. “I marveled at how much they have accomplished because they have tried and struggled. How often do we do that? If we hear about something hard that we really want to do, don’t some of us sometimes say, ‘It’s just too hard’?! I learned to keep trying because most good things come from struggle.”
Life is about giving, about joy, and about growing. It’s about persevering through challenges and dancing through the rain; it’s about looking past the externals to find the pure neshama underneath. It’s about learning from every single person you meet, holding the lessons close to your heart, and creating a kaleidoscope of love.
