As I sat in the doctor’s office with anxiety and fear I heard the word no one wants to hear from their Orthopedist when they look at your X Ray, “Whoa!!!!!” And so began my journey into the world of hip replacement. Until that moment hip replacement surgery was for “old” people, people who were injured playing professional football or someone involved in a severe auto accident, but it most certainly didn’t apply to me, a young 57 year old!
If you’ve never had a hip problem please count your blessings. Something as simple as putting on a sock produces waves of excruciating pain and quickly becomes a two person operation. It also impacts your ability to sleep soundly, walk to the mailbox, chase your grandson around a soccer field, sit comfortably for long hours in a commercial airplane and walk to and from Shul on Shabbos.
Over the years I’ve chronicled the myriad people I’ve met and the adventures I’ve incurred while walking two or three miles to Shul. That walk was always an opportunity to shut down the business side of my brain and marvel at the wonders of nature all around me. It was a unique opportunity to recharge my spiritual batteries and for the first time all week totally, unconditionally RELAX!
Since I first arrived at my new home in McLean, VA I had noticed a discomfort in my left leg every time I climbed a set of stairs or walked more than a mile. As the weeks turned into months I was constantly in pain. That pain eventually brought me to the doctor who proclaimed his astonishment at the severity of my condition with the aforementioned “Whoa!” He then proceeded to inform me that I needed a complete hip replacement and the sooner the better because the pain would only intensify. Armed with this news I went home and discussed it with my wife. We decided to wait and see if the pain would subside.
Unfortunately the pain in my leg prevented me from walking the 5.2 roundtrip miles to and from Shul every Saturday so my attendance became sporadic at best. As the weeks turned into months I realized how much I missed Shul, how much I missed my “RELAX” time and how much my Neshama, my soul, missed my spiritual recharge time.
The day before Rosh Hashanah I convinced myself that despite the pain I was going to walk to Shul both days. When I woke up the morning of the first day my hip was killing me but I got dressed and started my journey at 8:15 a.m. The first mile of the journey is straight up hill and I have to be honest it was horrible. At times I was literally dragging my leg behind me. When I crested the hill I had to stop and literally catch my breath because of the pain. After a few moments the pain began to subside and I started to walk. After a few hundred yards I was faced with another problem, a huge construction project. The bridge I had to cross was under repair and the sidewalk had disappeared about three months before. In the past I had managed to dodge cars and trucks that literally passed inches from my body. Faced with having to do that again with a bad leg the situation almost brought me to tears. But a little voice in my head encouraged me to go on and I tentatively started to cross the “battle zone.”
As I made way across my leg actually started to feel better and before I knew it I had navigated the vehicle obstacle course and I was on my way with clear sailing ahead. About an hour later I arrived at Shul and I walked into services. During the next four hours my hip and leg started to tighten up and throb and I thought I was never going to be able to get home. When the service was over I hobbled out of the building and started the journey home. It took a few hundred yards before I felt better and for the rest of the walk I felt pretty darn good. When I arrived at the bridge I was once again concerned about having to dodge the traffic. Before I took my first step I noticed what appeared to be four men floating across the bridge. Being Rosh Hashanah I immediately thought “Oh my gosh, there are four angels leading me across the bridge!” Upon closer inspection they weren’t angels at all, but in fact they were four construction workers walking across a narrow “sidewalk” that I had never seen before. Several months before the workers had placed concrete barriers against the side of the bridge to protect themselves as they worked on various pieces of the structure. However, from the road the barrier created an optical illusion and the narrow walkway was impossible to see. I had walked across this bridge at least ten times, each time taking my life in my hands and had never seen the protected walkway. As the realization hit me I recalled something my Dad has said to me a thousand times, “Steve sometimes you look but you do not see.” Never had that statement made more sense. I immediately walked over to the first barrier and sure enough there was a 12 inch wide pathway across the structure. Before you could say “More potato Kugel please!” I was skipping along, safely protected from the ten wheelers and mini vans rushing swiftly past, inches from my head. A few minutes later I was safely ensconced in my home.
As I sat in my favorite chair I couldn’t help but wonder at my good fortune. On the Shabbos mornings when my leg was not too painful I had traveled across that bridge dodging the big rigs along the way. This time because my leg slowed me down I came to the bridge at the exact moment four construction “angels” were walking to their job site. Five minutes earlier or five minutes later and I’d have missed them and never discovered the hidden walkway. Thanks to that one moment I now had a safe and quick way across the bridge, a path that would ensure my safety until the two year project was completed. Coincidence…. I think not!
Many years earlier my mentor Rabbi Chuni Vogel and I were sitting in his sukka when it started to rain. I immediately wanted to go inside where it was dry and warm. The Rabbi picked up a slice of waterlogged challa, and pointing it in my general direction said, "Shloma Yakov, no one ever said a mitzvah had to be easy. For 3311 years your ancestors have been performing the mitzvah of 'dwelling' in a sukka. In Alaska right now it's ten degrees below zero and 'the frozen chosen,' as Alaska's Chabad Rabbi Yosef Greenberg calls his congregation, are celebrating Shabbat in the sukka with joy and vigor. Take your mind off the rain and concentrate on the joy of fulfilling G-d's mitzvah of eating in the sukka and honoring the memory of your ancestors who lived in dwellings just like these for forty years." He waited a moment for his words to sink in and then added, "But... if the rain really bothers you, feel free to go inside." I chose to remain in the sukka and it was one of the best nights of my life.
His words, “No one ever said a mitzvah had to be easy” has been my mantra for the last 15 years. Every time I am afraid to try something new or do something old I think back to those words. As I walked across the bridge with a painful hip, dragging my leg behind me his words once again inspired me. And I also thought of one other thing he shared with me, “Shloma Yakov when you complete a mitzvah you never know who is watching and who may be inspired by that one act. You never know who needs just a little bit of encouragement to do their own mitzvah.”
The next Shabbos I walked across the bridge with a smile on my face, Tzitzis blowing in the breeze and a leg/hip that still was in constant pain. But I also thought, “Maybe a fellow Yid will go by and see a member of his or her “tribe,” wearing a yarmulke and tzitzis, limping across the bridge on an “invisible” walkway and be inspired to try a mitzvah themselves. As Rabbi Vogel likes to say, “You never know when someone is watching.” And in this case it could be hundreds if not thousands of people along a busy route through the middle of Tyson’s Corner Virginia. At the very least someone may say, “Wow check out the dude floating across that bridge!”
By the way I get my new hip in December. After that the only thing my doctor is going to say is “Whoa, nice drive down the middle of the golf course Steve!”
