My friends send me flowers from thousands of miles away, loving messages that often make me laugh, cards with pictures of their children. I always learn from them: one is an artist, capable of executing any project, in any medium, another is gifted with infinite pragmatism and an incomparable sense of humor… But above all their qualities (and I’m not fooling myself, no one is perfect), the girls have hearts of gold. They were the ones who brought dinner to my family every night for 15 days when my son was born – they knew how difficult the arrival of a second child was and brought with them bags full of treats, lots of experience and balanced hormones. A Brazilian friend – beautiful, wonderful and then pregnant – did my grocery shopping for seven months after Ben was born. Soon after she moved back to Brazil – how can I repay such generosity?
Initially financially inaccessible and practically impossible to get a place in, my children’s preschool not only accepted us right away but also gave us a scholarship for four years. How can I explain it? At this preschool, I learned to cook for people who had babies or were sick, even though I didn’t know who would receive my gifts. And I ran to the principal’s desk when I needed support, help, advice. In turn, I filled in any gaps that appeared at school: I made challah every Thursday for the tot shabat on Friday, I filled in for teachers who couldn’t go, I helped with field trips, art projects, auctions.
We all have our ups and downs, life is not easy. And it was on one of those days when you can’t even stand to keep your eyes dry that a good friend arrived with her family, after a 10-hour trip, to visit. After five days in a “bubble” of kindness and affectionate words, I began to see the situation more clearly and with a certain dose of humor. Yes, I would still have to move – again! – but it wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t cry anymore.
To my surprise, almost a year after we had moved from the city where the children’s preschool was located, I received a visit from the director, who set aside two hours of her short vacation to spend with me. She listened to my news, told me hers – realities of life exchanged and received with affection. That school had been our safe haven in stormy years. That day I met with the director/friend, I had to rush out and do some shopping to cook a very special dinner.
A few days after the father of one of my children’s classmates passed away, the parent-teacher community sprang into action: meals were scheduled to be delivered every day for several weeks, and the funeral expenses were covered by the families and teachers. In the classrooms, the children were given instructions on how to cope with the death of a loved one, and they brainstormed how to help their classmate during the first few days and weeks back at school (cards were produced in abundance). This family’s story puts it in perspective: it is a privilege to be healthy and well enough to cook for them—in other words, I am glad I am not the recipient of this dinner. In fact, I have been the recipient of so many dinners and visits and small affections that I feel strong enough to pass it on. “It is when the wind is strong that we need deep roots” (Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks).