Never Enough

Last year I greatly enjoyed being a Bubby companion for a local senior, bringing her to and from shiurim and appointments, taking walks together and doing light grocery shopping. Once I had my baby, I tried continuing the job but it was hard sticking a newborn into the car so often. So eventually I stopped and missed out on more bonding time with this ninety-six year old lady whom I myself called “Bubby.”

Baruch HaShem, I had two grandmothers of my own growing up, one of them namely being a “Bubby,” whom I cherish until this day and after whom my daughter is named. My other grandmother was also very special in her own way and contributed a lot of loving experiences to my memory bank of childhood.

Honestly, I’m always jealous when I hear of my friends visiting their grandmother, yearning to have the same these days. So I took my job in Lakewood as a nice opportunity to bond with, experience and learn from an old-age, great-vibed Bubby figure.

Anyway, once I ceased my work with her, a few weeks later, she fell and broke her hip. She was always very active and positive and now she was confined to her bed, which was a huge challenge for her, especially with her sharp mind and drive for life. But even at her ripe age, four years shy of one hundred, she did not say Dayeinu! (or dayeini), it’s enough for me! She chugged along with as much happiness and celebration of life as she could muster, as three months of recovery thankfully brought her out of rehab and back home.

Today I read a moving newsletter by Keshet Starr, who runs a much needed organization in our community. She wrote how the song of Dayeinu in the Haggadah, while being an unending praise of gratitude to Gd for all the miracles we experienced in our Exodus, can be a very different song for others—almost a lamentation: Whereas as a nation, we sing It would be enough for us if Gd had just done one miracle, for some people, the word Dayeinu evokes within them a feeling of “enough!”—enough pain, enough suffering and hiding, enough fear.

So when I think of this Pesach song and my recent video call with my new Bubby, I think of people in general—of those who can tolerate their situations and those who can’t. I think of the people who keep trying and those who easily give up for various reasons.

I think of this incredible woman, into her tenth decade of life, who is still as amazing and joyous as she was last year, with an undying joie de vivre, who will probably never say Dayeinu if she hasn’t said it yet.

She herself had a very hard life as a young woman, losing her first husband, a father of four, and struggling in the mid-1900s as a single mom. Luckily she remarried years later, picked herself up along with her kids and transitioned her family into a new stage of life with her second husband, as they helped build the Jewish community in Tennessee.

And just a few years ago, she relearned to cope with another loss, with another loved companion leaving her a widow. And all the while, she takes care of herself, re-energizes, and is really a miracle to behold. Not “dayeinu”—in the sense of my new understanding of the expression—but “lo day,” as if she’s saying out loud, “This is not enough to drag me down!,” despite all of life’s suffering.

As we approach Pesach, let’s consider this: Sometimes we feel like just throwing in the towel and putting our hands in the air and calling quits. Life’s hard, it’s painful and sometimes it takes a lot more energy to keep going—after all the tears and heartache.

However, we have to remember that our tears are never for naught. That we might think Gd isn’t helping or listening or responding to our cries. But just like He appeared to Moshe in a burning, measly bush instead of a beautiful oak tree as if to say to the Jewish people in Egypt, “I’m with you in your suffering,” so too He is with us and listening more carefully than we know.

Our tears don’t go down the drain. Overtime, I think, our crying gets collected and one day, we get to take that huge jar of tears and anguish and cash it in for a bigger miracle than we’d ever expect. Gd never turns away from us. Rather, it can take time to see what He’s working on for our very benefit.

So let’s ignore the misery of an old perspective of “it’s just enough, I can’t take it” and revitalize our efforts and our mindset to approach life with more joy and celebration. I take it from my ninety-six year old Bubby, who went through hardship after hardship and can’t stop smiling and praising HaShem.

I take it from our unbelievable nation, whom after two-hundred ten years in hell—at least four generations enduring a damaging reality—cried out to Gd in praise and hope for a better future. They not only thanked Gd, they banged on their tambourines and drums, screaming His name with passion and an elated contentment. Even two centuries of suffering didn’t break our spirit.

Let’s draw from this understanding and refresh our prayers for an easier tomorrow, for miracles that we wish for so deeply, and for an overarching redemption of all of our tears.