Praying in Gratitude

Today, for the first time in a long time, it rained. As the grey clouds gathered in the morning, I realised that I didn't know what brachah to say on the yoreh, the first heavy rainfall after the summer in Israel.

After searching through many siddurim, I found it in the Rinat Yisrael, a beautiful paragraph of thanks for rain after a long dry spell. The brachah opens with the phrase:

"We thank you, Hashem, for each and every drop that You brought down for us."

When the rains came, I was in the car. I parked, and listened to the noise on the roof, and watched the car windows become flooded and streaked from the rain mixing with the dust and sand that had settled there over the last many dry months. I took out my siddur and prayed.

I am especially grateful that I am in Israel and able to say this brachah, and there is a genuine gratitude for rain in this part of the world, whether people are the prayerful type or not.

What struck me with this tefilah, though, were the words "al col tipah v'tipah", "for each and every drop". This choice of phrase brings our gratitude into sharp focus. Instead of seeing rain, we appreciate each drop. What other areas of my life can I apply this to, where I typically see the broad picture and miss the tiny elements of blessing?

May we learn to count each and every drop of blessing in our lives; may the Land of Israel be blessed with plentiful rain in the right season.

(Photo credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rain_on_grass2.jpg)
(You can see the text of the tefilah here: http://www.kipa.co.il/ask/show/74833)

On the bus

I'm sitting in a bus shelter waiting for the bus to Yerushalayim. The weather - this last week in October - is balmy, all warm and breezy. As I wait for the bus, I listen to women from Ethiopia chatting to one another in high voices that pour out a language that flows like bird-song.

At my bus-stop is a young woman wearing sandals with the fewest and finest possible silver straps required to hold the shoes to her feet. Her toenails are a deep red. Her feet glow like jewellery.

When the bus arrives, the driver is a young man with slicked back hair, but he's not impatient. On the seat across from me is a man wearing a kippah serugah and a Pink Floyd t-shirt, working on sheets of math problems. Behind me, a middle aged woman from Russia with long thick hair is wearing enormous chandelier earrings. In front of me, a woman answers her cell phone. "Mazal tov!" she cries "What did she have? Oh, this is achlah for you! Bye, Mami! Mazal tov!" We pass a bus-stop where a woman is dressed in ordinary modest clothing - she wears grey and black, her clothes are clean and neat. She is reciting tehillim from a small book.

The views as we drive towards Yerushalayim are beautiful, rolling hills planted with row upon row of trees. This is an ordinary day, an ordinary bus ride. Ordinary and magical.

Book Love: "Having Faith"

I love to read. You know, the way that other people love to breathe. I read way too late at night, and I steal moments during the day to get my fix. I have become friends with the librarians in every city I've lived in.

Sometimes I want a happy fictional ending to smooth off the edges of my day before I sleep; sometimes I want some great non-fiction to sink my teeth into. Mostly, I just want the heft of a book in my hand, and the look of typeface at eye level. I want to be engaged in reading and to learn something new.

The way I see it, a good book about women's health is a gift from above, an unbeatable combination that feeds my mind and soul. So when I read a book that makes me say "Thank you, thank you for writing this!", I figure I should share the booty.

Sandra Steingraber is an ecologist. In her book "Having Faith" she describes her pregnancy, birth and postpartum experiences. She also leads us on an exploration of these from the scientific perspective of a biologist. A woman's body is, as she reminds us, a baby's first environment. She describes the impact of toxicity in the world on pregnant mothers and babies in a writing style both compelling and poetic. She writes with hope, and, of course, faith.

"Having Faith" is more important, more interesting and more illuminating than any mainstream pregnancy book. This one is the real deal. You'll be glad you read it, and it might just change your life.

(photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1184809)

That Quilting Thing

Since childhood, my hands have always kept busy with things artistic, usually a pen. I created with calligraphy (in two directions, if you please), book-binding, paper-cutting - all gave me great pleasure, both in allowing the creative spirit to move me, and in the satisfaction of producing things of beauty.

But in quilting, I have found a therapy that moves at my speed. (Friends, quit laughing right now.) (I am known for projects that take upwards of 5 years to complete. Small projects.)

Quilters famously have UFO's (UnFinished Objects), the result of dropping one project for a more urgent one. More urgent, perhaps, for emotional reasons: a friend who lives far away needs a hug, so you set aside your current project to sew her a quilt and send it to her to do your hugging for you.

Or more urgent, perhaps, because you just found this Kaffe Fassett fabric, and you are forced to go shopping (oh dear, again? Sigh. Well, if I must.) to find fabrics that contrast, but perfectly... And there's a different kind of urgent, right there.

I got turned onto quilting by a book, "Quilting Lessons" by Janet Berlo. This is not a how-to book; this is all about what the writer learned from quilting. Janet Berlo is a professor who was struck by writer's block at around age 40 and sunk into a deep depression as a result. This book contains the essays that she wrote in the subsequent two years, during which she quilted full time, through and out of her depression. The essays reflect her moods, often dark and self-absorbed, and describe her relationships, good and bad. What I found so compelling was that in quilting she found - she created - her own healing space.

Life After Baby: A short message to our beloveds

Men-folk: not imagine that when your gorgeous baby gets tired, he stretches his little arms and yawns his little yawn, and smiles gratefully when his mother lays him gently in his crib for a 3 hour long nap. Think again.

Imagine this: he falls asleep nursing, and your wonderful wife cannot figure out how to climb out of the couch she has sunk into without waking him. She tries anyway. Imagine the sound of a baby screaming in your ear.

Take two: After being shown around the apartment several times, your beautiful baby consents to fall asleep on your wife’s shoulder. How long does she need to hold him like this before she puts him down? Because, here’s the thing: she really needs the bathroom. She gently, oh so lovingly lays him down, together with the blanket she wrapped him in, that hopefully has her scent, she doesn’t even suffer from Sudden Arm Drop this time, and he lies down, asleep. Thank you God. Your wife goes to the bathroom, and before she’s finished washing her hands, he’s awake again, and singing at the top of his lungs.

Get the picture? New Dad, I know you’re cross-eyed with exhaustion too – stretched in more directions than you can count – but please make a couple of sandwiches before you leave for work and put them in the fridge for your beloved wife. Cut up some fruit, maybe, and put some crackers in a bowl. This Mama needs her fuel.

(Photo credit: http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=239682)

Chag Same'ach!

Even though there has been fascinating discussion about whether or not we can post divrei Torah on our blogs over chol haMo'ed , I have decided not to!

So I'm wishing you all a joyful Succot, lovely weather for your succah pleasure, and great tiyulim!

(for psak and discussion check out: http://kabbalahmadda.blogspot.com/ )
(photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/199536 )