Saving the Day

I have been feeling so week and tired lately.  No one knows why.

Everyone promised I would feel rejuvinated after receiving two portions of blood.

I do not.

I am still weak and tired.

I could not move on Monday morning.  God made a miracle and gave me enough energy so that I could drag myself to the pool and teach on Monday afternoon.

I would have crashed on Monday night, but Monday was my anniversary, so I went with Moshe, as we do every year, to sit in the garden where we were married.  It might not seem exciting, but the experience is quite special to us.

Tuesday morning, I would have loved to sleep in, but I really wanted to attend my art class.  I actually dragged myself up and out of the house in time to arrive on time.

I just drove down the hill when my phone rang.  My eldest daughter, who is a madricha (counselor/advisor) for B'nei Akiva (youth group) had hosted a sleepover for her chanichot (kids) the night before and had woken up early to take them all swimming in the pool in Tekoa (a neighboring town).

"Ima," she began, in a plaintive voice, "the bus did not stop for us and the next bus is in three hours."

I had already entered the traffic circle at the bottom of the hill.  I quickly glanced to my right.  There stood my daughter, with her chanichot sitting beside her.

My art class began in ten minutes;  I had just enough time to drive there.  But my daughter had put in so much time and energy to create a fun program for her chanichot; she had no other way to get to the pool.

What could I do?

I drove around the circle and swung by to pick up my daughter and the girls.  "Your chariot," I called to her, with a smile.

My daughter showered me with thanks.

"You owe me, big time!" I informed her, explaining, in detail, what I gave up to save her.

"I will try to be extra good for a month!" she pronounced.

"A month does not cover it," I countered.

"Forever?" she questioned sweetly.

"That's more like it," I responded, "From now on, whenever you step out of line, I am just going to say one word..." 

After a dramatic pause, I glanced quickly into her eyes, smiled and said... "Tekoa."

My daughter laughed good naturedly as she realized we just added a new code word to our private lexicon.

I joined in her laughter.

Someone once told me that having a private family language is the litmus test for family cohesion. I am not convinced.   Still, I love that our family has our own meanings for various words and phrases! (not to mention new words that our kids created!)

I plan to utilize this word to its full capacity!  (and she knows it!)



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA