I was having a
decluttering kind of morning and decided to get rid of as much as I could. For
someone who enjoys this kind of activity, I was amazed at how much I continued
to store but never used – like purses, for example. Each season, I treat myself
to a new one. Since I can’t bring myself to plunk down hundreds of dollars for
one that isn’t even real leather, I always seem to settle for something I like
that is either on the clearance table or in a discounted shop. When the new
season rolls around, I put last year’s model on a shelf in my closet where it
sits with others in a heap like rusted old cars in a junkyard. The thought in
my mind is that maybe I’ll reuse it the following year.
So, there I was
stuffing last year’s purse onto the shelf when I had a moment of clarity and
discovered that, realistically, I was never going to use it or any of the
others again. That’s when I thought about giving them away. And once I was on a
roll, I filled up two garbage bags full of those purses along with other things
that I never use. It was a useful and therapeutic venture.
Normally, before I
send my handbags to the purse scrapheap on my closet shelf, I only remove the
essentials and often leave things like old lists, doctor’s receipts, pens, and
any other debris that sifts down to the bottom of the bag. And in my haste to
rid my closet of unwanted purses, I neglected to clean that all out before
giving them away. Off they went to their new owner, and I forgot about them for
a few weeks, until I couldn’t find my watch.
Well, I don’t know
about you, but when I can’t find something, it’s a time of heightened
frustration. I start by looking in the usual places then go to obscure spots, then
back to the same usual places thinking that maybe by going there again I’ll
find what I’m looking for. All the while, I’m talking to myself and saying
things like, “I can’t believe it” and “Where could I have put it?” I give tzedakah and say the Rabbi Meir prayer.
Then the cycle repeats itself all over again.
Hashem put the
thought into my head that maybe the watch was in one of those purses I had
given away. Much to my anguish, time went by before I could locate the woman
who was the new owner of my old purse collection. She was glad to hear from me
and sent me a picture of all the items she found; among them was my expensive
watch. Not only was I thrilled to have located it, but I was struck at that
moment how much in awe I am of the Jewish people. Only a Yid would return
everything that didn’t belong to her, down to the 11 cents in change that was
discovered at the bottom of one bag among the empty wrappers and grocery store
coupons. And what other group of people would return a forgotten expensive watch?
It was a remarkable sight to witness.
It feels wonderful
being part of the klal. My husband
and I had that feeling after attending our grandson’s upsherin recently. It certainly wasn’t our first one, but it moved
us to tears nonetheless. One could argue that we’ve become more emotional and
that tears come unbidden more easily than in years gone by, but I’d like to
think that wasn’t the only reason. The upsherin
was remarkable from start to finish. Our little Mordy was the star of the show,
and his siblings were as excited as he was. They loved having a turn at cutting
a piece of hair and letting him know how thrilling it was to now be a big boy
and wear a yarmulke and tzitzis. My
tears welled up as our son lovingly wrapped little Mordy in his tallis and carried him to his future rebbe.
This rebbe is renowned in the cheder,
and the little boys in his class were full of love and reverence for this tzadik. Everything, from the singing and
dancing to the honey and candy that were paired with the letters of the aleph beis,
was a sight to behold.
No other nation
shares in this kind of happiness like we do. My husband and I marveled at the
lessons that were being taught in the classroom on that very special day. It
felt as if Hashem’s Shechinah was
residing there among us all. Little Mordy was learning Torah for the first time,
and the rest of us were flying right alongside. We learned anew that Torah is emes (truth) and that this is who we are
and where we belong. The room was full of joy, and the world had righted itself
once again, while the crazy world outside had disappeared and was forgotten.
What a remarkable day it was, one I hope to live up to and remember for a long
time to come.
Zahava
Hochberg is a weekly columnist for the Monsey Mevaser newspaper. She has created two columns for the paper
and is regularly featured in the Where What When. Zahava can be reached
at zahava.hochberg17@gmail.com.
