Like Avraham who was blessed with everything, Yitzhak from everything, and Yaakov everything.
כְּמוֹ שֶׁנִּתְבָּרְכוּ אֲבוֹתֵינוּ אַבְרָהָם יִצְחָק וְיַעֲקב, בַּכּל. מִכּל. כּל. כֵּן יְבָרֵךְ אוֹתָנוּ כֻּלָּנוּ יַחַד בִּבְרָכָה שְׁלֵמָה. וְנאמַר אָמֵן
(from Birkat HaMazon, Blessing after the Meal)
But I have to figure out what to do with it all…
I found my phone charger. It was in plain sight, really, just blocked by two enormous boxes. I have a new Kindle on its way from America, already loaded up with new books (Book Bub!). I have no camera, but a mystery to solve of what became of it, and what will become.
My friend asked if we are making new friends. I found a handyman who helped us with putting some of our furniture together. By the time he left the other day, we felt like we could depend on him. He told us to consider him a friend.
He cut himself pretty deeply while using ISHI’S pocketknife. He asked for coffee grounds and asked me to put a spoonful in his hand. He dipped his finger into the grounds for a few minutes until the bleeding slowed down.
חכמת סבתא, he called it. Chochmat Savta; Wisdom of the grandmother. I listened. This is part of what I need to learn, since I never really knew my grandmothers. I’ve been making it up as I go along myself.
He told me how, when he was a youngster and he fell out of a tree right before Shabbat, cutting himself right above his eye, his mother calmly took turmeric and put it as a compress on the cut. On Sunday, she took him to the doctor to get it stitched up.
Yup, turmeric and coffee both check out. I think I’d avoid using glass, though.
I don’t need most of the glasses I brought. I don’t need all the coffee mugs, either, so I repacked them away; I certainly don’t want to wash all the glasses that I have unpacked; I’m the dishwasher, so I will have pity on me. Fair warning to those guests who visit us during this next year of transition; we will use disposable. Lord knows I brought enough of those…
I’m not even opening the good dishes, although I would like to know where are my candlesticks. My knife block was in a box marked”office supplies”. So it’s anyone’s guess.
ISHI did find our new living room rug! It was marked “MBR”. How would the movers have known it was for the living room, if that’s where they found it? Any metaphors come to mind? Yes, no sweeping anything under anywhere.
We went to a funeral on Sunday. This was not a terror incident; this was a simple tragedy, if anything was simple about it. A young man, 26 years old, on his way home right before Shabbat after going to the mikveh, was hit and killed. A pure soul, in all senses of the word. He was on his way to getting engaged soon, to another pure soul who we also know. The father, upon seeing his never-to-be daughter-in-law, broke down even further than he already had been.
His grandfather and his mother was extraordinarily calm at the funeral. The grandfather spoke first in what would turn out to be a 2 1/2 hour funeral, not counting the burial. He spoke without notes, not missing a single one, sending his grandson off to his world-to-come with poetry, with dignity. The mother stayed at everyone’s side, dignified and steadfast. Someone who went to see them at the shivah house mentioned that she has learned the same method of focusing that she has studied; and she was already connecting to her son in his world-to-come.
No, I am so very grateful I already have enough mysteries to last a lifetime.