After a rather disappointing birthday, I received a gift from heaven. Literally. It rained today!!!
Yesterday I went running and was left with a headache the entire day. I went grocery shopping, bought a birthday gift for someone else, put away the perishables, and went to rest out my headache. I crawled out of bed, put away the rest of the groceries, regarded the dirty dishes and unswept floors, made dinner, and listened to a complaint that it wasn't to someones liking. By the time my husband came home for dinner, I was not in the birthday spirit, to say the least. His attempts to engage the children in serenading me were squelched by my ire. After my very unspecial day, I was not in the mood for impromptu good intentions. Finishing my last bite, I fell into bed, surrendering to my headache and foul mood. At least I can say I slept a full night.
This morning I was at the mall by nine, munching on a quinoa salad and whole wheat bread, and sipping hot coffee. The weekend paper was sprawled out in front of me, and being the only lone diner there, I had no choice but to soak up the news in all my glee. Alone time is a hot commodity these days, and I certainly reveled in it today. The shopping spree and juice drink didn't exactly cut into my joy, either.
Little did I know that the real gift would be waiting for me outside. For those of you not living in Israel, this is where I may either lose or fascinate you, as what I experienced was foreign to me until moving to this country. From around May until October, we never feel a drop of rain. When the fall season comes around, we say a special prayer in the synagogue for rain to grace our land and water our crops. And when that first rainfall comes, it's not just another rainfall. It's not even a very pleasant first rainfall. It is something akin to a miracle, as though we got it because we asked for it. In more direct terms, it signifies our relationship with our Creator, not merely a seasonal occurrence.
We moved to Israel during the month of July, and a very hot one at that. When the first rainfall came a few months later, fifteen neighborhood children frolicked joyfully downstairs in our building's driveway, including ours and others whom had just arrived from America. Since arriving six years ago, I have seen the joy repeat itself amongst friends and family, a rain-induced euphoria that I cannot explain adequately to one who has never had the good fortune of experiencing it.
Perhaps the other drivers thought me mad, as I whooped and shed a tear in my car, my windshield pelted by sweet droplets, and my arm hanging out the window so as not to allow its reality to escape my senses. As I yelled, "Thank you G-d!!!!" at the top of my lungs, I felt no shame. I am certain I was not the only one.
As I write this, the rain is falling in torrents and thunder murmurs, a background noise to the pounding waters from the heavens. Our sabbath approaches, yet while some would curse the rain for impinging weekend plans, I sit here mesmerized by this blessing, which has washed away the sour taste of yesterday and has started my next year with a fresh outlook. While my family has banished me from the kitchen, I have nothing to do but cherish this moment and look forward to a cozy day of rest ahead with friends and family.
It's not everyone that gets a birthday present straight from the heavens. Thank you, G-d.
Yesterday I went running and was left with a headache the entire day. I went grocery shopping, bought a birthday gift for someone else, put away the perishables, and went to rest out my headache. I crawled out of bed, put away the rest of the groceries, regarded the dirty dishes and unswept floors, made dinner, and listened to a complaint that it wasn't to someones liking. By the time my husband came home for dinner, I was not in the birthday spirit, to say the least. His attempts to engage the children in serenading me were squelched by my ire. After my very unspecial day, I was not in the mood for impromptu good intentions. Finishing my last bite, I fell into bed, surrendering to my headache and foul mood. At least I can say I slept a full night.
This morning I was at the mall by nine, munching on a quinoa salad and whole wheat bread, and sipping hot coffee. The weekend paper was sprawled out in front of me, and being the only lone diner there, I had no choice but to soak up the news in all my glee. Alone time is a hot commodity these days, and I certainly reveled in it today. The shopping spree and juice drink didn't exactly cut into my joy, either.
Little did I know that the real gift would be waiting for me outside. For those of you not living in Israel, this is where I may either lose or fascinate you, as what I experienced was foreign to me until moving to this country. From around May until October, we never feel a drop of rain. When the fall season comes around, we say a special prayer in the synagogue for rain to grace our land and water our crops. And when that first rainfall comes, it's not just another rainfall. It's not even a very pleasant first rainfall. It is something akin to a miracle, as though we got it because we asked for it. In more direct terms, it signifies our relationship with our Creator, not merely a seasonal occurrence.
We moved to Israel during the month of July, and a very hot one at that. When the first rainfall came a few months later, fifteen neighborhood children frolicked joyfully downstairs in our building's driveway, including ours and others whom had just arrived from America. Since arriving six years ago, I have seen the joy repeat itself amongst friends and family, a rain-induced euphoria that I cannot explain adequately to one who has never had the good fortune of experiencing it.
Perhaps the other drivers thought me mad, as I whooped and shed a tear in my car, my windshield pelted by sweet droplets, and my arm hanging out the window so as not to allow its reality to escape my senses. As I yelled, "Thank you G-d!!!!" at the top of my lungs, I felt no shame. I am certain I was not the only one.
As I write this, the rain is falling in torrents and thunder murmurs, a background noise to the pounding waters from the heavens. Our sabbath approaches, yet while some would curse the rain for impinging weekend plans, I sit here mesmerized by this blessing, which has washed away the sour taste of yesterday and has started my next year with a fresh outlook. While my family has banished me from the kitchen, I have nothing to do but cherish this moment and look forward to a cozy day of rest ahead with friends and family.
It's not everyone that gets a birthday present straight from the heavens. Thank you, G-d.
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