With elderly parents, every moment spent together should be treated as a wonderful and treasured gift. So it was with great anticipation that my wife Linda and I awaited the arrival of my parents for their annual three-month visit this past summer. Usually they come see us in December and January so they can escape the frigid winters of Connecticut. But this year Mom and Dad decided to come and see us in the summer so they could enjoy the cobalt blue skies, lush green mountains and awe inspiring beauty of the Reno/Lake Tahoe area.
Although I grew up in a very warm and loving home, our family wasn't very observant. Yes my parents made sure my brother Lou and I went to Hebrew school and yes we both struggled through our Bar Mitzvahs. But as soon as we uttered the last "Amen" at our Bar Mitzvahs, we were both out the door. Although it feels like I discovered Chabad of Delaware a lifetime ago, it really has only been eight years since Rabbi Vogel and his family helped me get started on my spiritual journey.
During that time my parents have visited Linda and me quite often. They've watched as I learned to put on Teffilin in the morning, daven three times a day, say Kiddush on Shabbos and walk to Shul on Shabbos morning. In the beginning they were a little concerned about the changes they saw in my life style. No more lobster bisque, no more cheeseburgers and no more tee times on Saturday mornings. But they also saw that I laughed more, I was much less stressed when I came home from work and I was a more loving husband and dad then in previous years. As I became more observant, I became a much more relaxed and happy person. As the years rolled by, Mom and Dad moved from sitting on the sidelines and watching from a distance, to asking questions about what I was doing and why I was doing it. Slowly but surely my parents became more and more comfortable with the changes in my life. Today they totally support my involvement with Chabad and the more observant lifestyle I've adopted. So it was with great anticipation that we awaited their arrival.
My parents arrived on a Wednesday afternoon. We picked them up and then promptly went off to see Lake Tahoe. After several days at the Lake we came home for Shabbos. That night I witnessed something I hadn't seen during the entire 49 years since I took my first breath of life. Shortly before sunset I called out to my wife Linda and said we had to light the Shabbos candles in a few minutes. She said, "Don't worry, Mom and I have them all ready." Now my Mom has stood beside Linda on numerous occasions and watched her light the candles and say the blessing welcoming in the Shabbos. On a number of occasions she has also lit candles and read the blessing in English. So I was absolutely stunned when I walked into the kitchen and handed my Mom a prayer book, so she could read the blessing in English, when she laughed and said, "I don't need that Son." And with that, she covered her head, lit the candles and chanted the blessing in Hebrew.
Now that might not be a big deal to most, but in my home it was nothing short of a Shabbos miracle. My Mom, who had never spent a minute of her life in Hebrew school, had taught herself the blessing in Hebrew and had been lighting candles every Friday night for the past year. When I asked her how this had happened, she just smiled and said, "What's the big deal? It's a piece of kugel!" That evening was the best Shabbos dinner I've ever had. The light that emanated from those Shabbos candles illuminated every corner of the house. They were the first candles I had ever seen my Mother light using the ancient and poetic language of Sarah, Rebecca and Miriam.
The next morning, my heart aflame with joy over my Mother's actions the night before, I walked down the mountain to Shul, thanking Hashem for allowing me to share this precious moment with my Mom. As I walked to shul the words of Rabbi Vogel echoed in my mind. He once told me that we never know who is watching and observing us when we fulfill a mitzvah. He said, "You might not think anyone is watching when you wear your tzitzit to shul, or you daven in an airport or you wear your kippa while pumping gas. But in many cases someone is watching and observing what you are doing and may be inspired to try something new based on your one simple act." He emphasized that, "You never know when a fellow Jew may be watching you complete a mitzvah. That one mitzvah may be enough to give them courage to take the next step on their own spiritual journey."
When I finally arrived at shul I told my friends about my Mom's actions the night before. They all agreed that it was a wonderful moment for my entire family. A few moments later our Rabbi Mendel Cunin called us together and we started davening. Several hours later, I began the journey back up the mountain road to my home. As I arrived at the half waypoint, the beautiful blue sky suddenly clouded up and became dark as night. The wind started to howl and the rain came down in violent sheets, seemingly from every direction at once. Within three short minutes I was soaked to the skin and absolutely miserable. The wind was blowing, I was wet and freezing and all I wanted to do was get home. Each step was a struggle. Suddenly out of nowhere a non-Jewish neighbor of mine drove by and waved. Seeing that I was soaked to the skin he motioned that he was going to turn around and come pick me up. For the first time in a very long time, I seriously contemplated getting into the car and accepting the ride home.
"Who'd know?" I asked myself. "Just this once," I rationalized. Just as I turned around to wait for my neighbor, a huge ten-wheeled truck pulled up next to me. On the side of the truck was an enormous sign that said, "Vogel Floors." As I stared up at the rolling billboard directly in front of me, my eyes locked on the words VOGEL. With the rain pouring off every part of my body my neighbor pulled up and said, "Steve, hop in and get out of the rain." Absent-mindedly I placed my hand on the door handle; all the while my eyes never left the word VOGEL. As if I had just touched a hot coal, I quickly pulled my hand away from the door and thanked my neighbor for their kindness and declined the offer. "I'll walk," I said. "It's only another mile."
He shook his head in wonderment and drove off. Simultaneously, the big truck fired up its engine and it too rolled off, disappearing into a blinding sheet of rain. "VOGEL Floors," I said over and over again as I walked through the rain. I couldn't help but think that this was either an incredible coincidence or a very special gift from Hashem. Since I don't believe in coincidence, I thanked Hashem for placing the name of my friend and spiritual mentor on the side of the truck and helping me make the right decision. Buoyed by this memorable experience I literally danced up the hill.
In the short span of about 18 hours I had seen and experienced two unforgettable moments. The first illustrated the long term results a simple but important Mitzvah like lightening the Shabbos candles can ultimately produce. The second reinforced some wise advice Rabbi Vogel once gave me. One night during a torrential downpour in his Succah, when all I wanted to do was get out of the rain and finish the meal in the house, he told me, "Shlomo Yakov, no one ever said a Mitzvah had to be easy."
We are faced with numerous, and sometimes difficult decisions, each and every day of our lives. At the end of the day we also have to live with the resulting consequences of those decisions. Getting into the car and getting out of the rain would have provided momentary relief from an uncomfortable situation. But the warmth and joy generated from making difficult, and at times uncomfortable decisions, can illuminate ones life and refresh ones soul a thousand times over.
Coincidence...I think not!
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