107 - Rosh Chodesh Adar

There was never any question of my not going. After all, this was the marriage of the first child of the next generation, the oldest of the children of Reid’s first cousins. I remember the groom when he was still in utero, remember his bris, his insistence on chocolate milk in his bottle, his five-year old pride at becoming a big brother. It is a mitzvah to rejoice with a bride and groom. And so I did, relishing as well the contact with family and strangers and people encountered at such simchas. It was good to get out of the house.

One Hundred Seven

Rosh Chodesh Adar

You lull me with winter sun and central heating;
I lull myself with excuses:
This comfortable nest compounded of my infirmity,
My requirements, my cautions against icy winds.

You hear me, O Eternal, wherever I call You.
You hear me in my dressing gown
As easily as my dress-up clothes,
And I soothe myself with hot tea and on-line Torah.

Winter sun that warms my face
Rekindles my longing for community:
More than visitors and correspondents,
Phone callers and messengers.

Help me to evaluate my strength, O Eternal,
Weighing the risks of reality with the yearning
Of these weeks of isolation,
Breathing the same air I have breathed before.

Help me, O Eternal, to fortify my courage
With Your energy and Your kind regard
As I bundle my weakness in overcoats
And wrap a scarf of caution against winter winds.