It was a Thursday afternoon last fall, and I was sitting at my computer with thoughts of making Shabbos. I had planned to start my preparations ahead of time and made a mental list of what to make Thursday morning. However, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the kitchen remained in the dark while I sat in the den with my fingers tapping the keyboard, happily absorbed in sending emails to contacts near and far. I knew what was waiting for me in the other room but chose to ignore the signals my mind was sending me – the same way our grandson purposefully tunes out the repeated reminders from his parents when they tell him to take a shower.

I guess it’s time to admit that I’m not the biggest fan of cooking. I enjoy making food for my family and other guests, but I like eating out and prefer picking up takeout on the way home. There are some weeks when I’ll cook a different meal every night, and other times when that just doesn’t happen. I do have some guilty feelings about it, but thankfully, my husband doesn’t feel that his wife should spend any more time in the kitchen than she wants to.

We inherited our refrigerator from the previous owners of our condo. Okay, so it wasn’t the latest and greatest. It didn’t take up one entire wall in our kitchen and couldn’t hold enough food for 15 families. But it was good enough for us.

Recently, I decided that I wanted to start using the icemaker and dug out the manual that came along with it. I figured I’d read the booklet while I was at it and stumbled upon something amazing: My fridge has a Shabbos mode! Well, how do you like that? I practically jumped for joy. This discovery was like finding money in the backyard. And all along I thought my old appliance was far from being state of the art. I thought it didn’t compare to the other new and gleaming appliances that stood boldly and beautifully in my kitchen. Who knew?

I don’t ever remember having a well-lit refrigerator. I was used to not being able to clearly identify the many contents that were contained inside. I kept the light bulbs unscrewed at all times so I wouldn’t have to remember to unscrew them before Shabbos. Well, no more. I simply press two buttons simultaneously, and viola, the readout says “Sb” and I’m good to go. I don’t know what to do with myself.

Those wonderful daughters of mine are going about their business working and living….and shopping. They shop more often than I did at their age. And I must say, they are far savvier than I ever was. They always manage to find the most beautiful, aidel, and fashionable items. They never seem to mind the constant changes in styles that happen around them, like the fact that it’s virtually impossible these days to find a decent pair of shoes.

I’ve spent the last two years unsuccessfully looking for Shabbos shoes. I used to shop at this wonderful place that had rows and rows of lovely shoes. It was a discount store that sold quality, well-made shoes in all sizes. I used to go there at least twice a year and never had difficulty finding something just right. I often felt like the proverbial kid in a candy store happily coming home with my large shopping bag filled with enough goodies to last me for the season. But with each passing year, the styles changed, and I couldn’t wear the shoes they were selling, even if I liked them, which I didn’t.

Sometimes a person can hear the same thing over and over again without really grasping its true meaning. I can attest to this as I’ve often struggled with the idea of free choice vs. Divine intervention – that is, until last week. Someone at the Shabbos table explained it so succinctly that I could practically hear his idea clicking into place in my mind. He announced to everyone at the table that Hashem is the One who decides what events will happen to us. We have free choice only in deciding how we will react to what He sends our way.

Wow! To say I was blown away by our host’s pronouncement would be an understatement. Suddenly, it felt like the dawning of a new day. Everything made sense to me, and I realized that this was something I wanted to begin working on as soon as possible. I knew it would not always be easy to achieve, especially when difficult tests came my way, but I was eager to try.

We’re visiting our daughter and family. I’m in their basement suite getting ready for Shabbos and hear our granddaughter’s voice from upstairs. She’s busy running here and there, singing her sweet songs one moment and making demands of her parents in the next, very much acting like her two-year-old self.

While I don’t remember being that age myself, the story that’s been told to me on numerous occasions is that by the time I was three, I was a force to be reckoned with. Like my cute little granddaughter upstairs, I had a voice that was naturally loud. I was interested in everything around me and made plenty of comments. I “called them as I saw them,” whether they were happy exclamations or angry outbursts. I had a voice and made my opinions known to one and all.

I’m the kind of person who ponders over things. I guess I’m not one of those water-off-a-duck’s-back kinds of people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at making snap decisions, like what to make for Yom Tov or what kinds of presents to buy for our grandchildren. But there are other, more challenging decisions that I find harder to make, especially if they are ones that I’ll have to live with for a long time, like choosing window coverings. Should they be Roman shades or honeycomb? Horizontal or vertical? And don’t get me started about the color. Which is better, bright white or warm white or perhaps butter cream?