I Think I’m Weird

I think I’m weird.
Every time I get very stressed, I delve into a novel or memoir about The Holocaust. 
 
Reading about that level of degradation, terror and violence always skyrockets my gratitude meter and puts things in proper prospective.
 
This time my choice was The Light of Days by Judy Batalion. It is the untold story of women resistance fighters in Hitler’s ghettos.    
 
These unsung heroes, who have remained anonymous for far too long, not only cooked, cared for the ghetto orphans and ran schools in the ghettos, but engaged in smuggling, sabotage, resistance and spying. 
 
In anticipation of my husband’s yet another looming back surgery, I voraciously whipped through chapter after chapter of truly horrific happenings from that historical time. 
 
So, when we checked into our hotel a few days before his surgery, I was less inclined to fret over the fact that there weren’t enough hangers, the Internet connection was spotty, the refrigerator not cold enough and one of the drawers almost impossible to open. 
 
The night before the operation, my husband and I sleep fitfully – both of our phones set to 4:30am. We wake every 45 minutes to check the time and to make sure we haven’t slept through our 5:30am hospital check-in time. 
 
As the time grows closer to his surgery, I remind myself of things I find comforting;      
    The great time we had with our sons and their families over the weekend 
    The hospital orderly we have kept in contact with – who assures me he will look after both of us
    The fact that three of my sons and their families live nearby 
 
And I have my
Computer
iPad
Phone 
Knitting
Books
Coffee mate 
Supply of masks 
And a long list of truly caring people to text/email updates to throughout the day 
 
Still 
I’m terrified. 
 
 
***************************************************************
 
My fears are unfounded. Six long hours later, a call from our surgeon confirms my worst fears were unfounded:
    My husband didn’t bleed to death on the table
    He didn’t stroke out 
    He didn’t become paralyzed
 
“In fact, there were no surprises at all,“ my doctor reported. “And all went as was expected.“ 
 
I settle down and impatiently wait to be able to see him in the step-down unit where he will spend the next few days being closely monitored after being released from the recovery room.
 
Still agitated, I’m in need of some grounding. I find it in a message from Rabbi Laura Duhan Kaplan. She recently recorded this for the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah.
 
Rabbi Kaplan focuses on a 1000 year-old prayer called Unetankeh Tokef– which centers around how to show up in challenging times. 
 
What that means, notes Rabbi Kaplan, is to take stock and decide how to move forward. 
 
She cites three ways to do this  – and although the words are Jewish –  their meaning is universal.
       Teshuvah – a return to what needs fixing, looking at our interpersonal relationships and making amends
       Tefillah – prayer/spiritual self-examination
       Tzedakah – giving help to those facing the most harm
 
 
Climate change, political upheaval, and a waxing pandemic are all looming, constant and relative threats in our world today.
But no one is 
    Herding us into ghettos
    Starving us
    Terrorising us through unremitting beatings
    Tearing us from our families 
    Or throwing us into gas chambers
 
As American actor Jeff Kober says: To become mindfully aware of our surroundings is to bring our thinking back to our present moment of reality and to the possibility of some semblance of serenity.

In spite of it all, I’m pretty serene right now. Hope you are too.
 
Keep Preserving Your Bloom,
 
Iris Ruth Pastor