My Dearest MomaLee...

   When you said Liberty Hill Farm was “the land of your inheritance,” your very own “Zion,” or that you wanted to die there, I didn’t think you were serious. I guess it’s too late now to insist we purchase a property with much less land, and definitely no space for any livestock huh? 

hey mom. I miss you, okay? 

I miss your laugh. Your smile. Your poofy hair. Talking to you for hours. Foot rubs. Neck releases. Following you around on your list of errands for the day just so I could hang out with you. I miss all your momisms – “Ideally,” “have you considered,” “template,” to name a few. I miss your tiny handwriting. I miss your family calendar. The sparkle in your eyes when the love inside you was so big it just had to radiate out from somewhere. Your excited shriek accompanied by your stamping your feet up and down in delight. Waiting for you impatiently in the car and thinking to myself about the fact that you were choosing to be late…and could choose otherwise. I miss your forgiveness of a young, stubborn, daughter who was sure she had all the answers. I miss you tucking me in at night, just to say you loved me. I miss telling you about my classes and the things I was learning. I miss discussing issues we didn’t agree upon, and being able to say what I really felt and thought. Mostly I just miss you. 

I know you already know all that, and I know you’re always going to be there for me, maybe I just needed to let the world know I miss you. 

Also, I want to say thank you. 

Thank you for making the best homemade rolls in the world. Thanks for your delicious granola, for pizza, dried bananas, and – yes, I’m serious – even for Lentils. Thank you for cuisinaire rods, those little boards with nails and rubberbands, for tin whistles and penny whistles, for music, for my cello, for rides to and from Carey’s for so many years. Thank you for playing twenty-questions with your 10-year-old daughter when you probably just wanted to be inside your own head. Thank you for being true to yourself no matter what anyone else said, and for teaching your children to do the same. Thank you for always reading a beautiful, interesting book. Thank you for your life-long search for knowledge and truth. And most of all, thank you for shedding your selkie skin long enough to come and be my Mom. 

I wish I could give you this note in person, that I could tell you all of these things now, and that I could be a better daughter than I was before, but I know you don’t want that. I know you know how I feel, and that you are proud of your little musician attending The Cleveland Institute of Music just like she always dreamed she would. I’m going to count on you to point me along my path, to help me find MY Zion, and the land of MY inheritance. 

Love you Mom. 

Arielfy

things that matter most

My Little Miriam - this is what she looks like when she's
 her cheerful, bubbly self (thus the name "Cheery-Miri")

Do you ever have those days where you feel like you're wading through day after day and nothing really matters that much, you're just going through the motions? I do. In fact, I had one of them today.


Maybe I got up on the wrong side of the bed; or maybe it was that paper that I didn't write yesterday that is, of course, due tomorrow; maybe it was the fact that I ate too many cookies and my belly still feels funny; who knows exactly what the reason was, but whatever it was, I woke up in, what my Mom always called, a "funk" this morning.

Little "Rainbow Rivkah", I wonder what
her precious little life has in store?

I went through the   motions of the day, doing one thing after another, all the while wishing I could crawl back into bed and sleep away the hours in a warm cocoon of ignorance, safe from the thoughts that plagued my brain in waking hours. 


Sometimes it takes a few 'shocks' to pull me out of my funks; I have to crawl out one layer at a time, like a butterfly carefully making it's way out of it's cocoon. I've learned you can't force that process, and if you try you'll only ruin the end result just as if you were to force a rose to blossom you'd break off all it's petals.


Today the first step was to simply do something that I needed to do. I pulled out Casal's book "Joys and Sorrows" and began reading; it was just the ticket to begin my assent to the surface. I felt better after several pages when my little brother called - he's the best brother!

Holly and her husband Luke - they help me remember
what matters most when I forget.

After talking to him for a while he said he had to go, but maybe I could talk to Miri, in fact, maybe I could help her given her current state of mind. I agreed to do what I could, and he handed over the phone.


My heart melted as I heard my beautiful little sisters voice: "hi", she whimpered into the phone. "What's wrong baby?!", I asked with concern in my voice. She went on to explain her current predicament - she had to get up and speak for a few moments in front of a lot of people really soon, and she was nervous; what was she going to say?! She thought that my mom was going to help her come up with something, but apparently that hadn't worked out as planned and she was feeling rather alone and dejected. I proceeded to gently talk her through things one step at a time, all the while hoping and praying I was saying the right things to help her feel better and have confidence in her ability to do this. It took some coaxing, but pretty soon I began to hear my "Cheery-Miri" returning, little by little. We talked through what she could say, and as our phone call drew to an end (she had to go the much-dreaded meeting) she melted my heart as she said "Thank you Ariel! I love you!"

My little Niece Ari - I hope
I can help her one day too.

In retrospect, the experience may not seem like much - what's the big deal anyway, you might ask? Well, that's just it: What IS the big deal? As I talked to my little sister I realized that what was so scary for her to do may not seem that difficult to me, but it was terrifying to her; because I had some experience doing what she had to do, I was able to walk her through a process one little step at a time until she felt able to go out and face that intimidating audience on her own. It caused me to reflect on all of those instances in my life where I just want to curl up and cry rather than doing the hard thing, but I can't - I won't! I will think of Miri's example to me, and remember that by going through hard things I can then turn around and help others as they struggle with the same thing; it's all about helping each other! I'll remember that when I need help there will always be someone to go to, someone to help me break it down one little step at a time until I can do it on my own.

My two Older sisters

Thanks to a simple conversation with my little sister I was reminded of what mattered most - people! We're all in this together, one giant family struggling to find joy in this world of heartache and trials; how do we do that? How do I do that? It's different everyday, and it's different for every person; but, for me, today, it was taking the time to help someone I loved a lot, to stop and realize that my life isn't worth anything until I willing giving away a part of me to help another.

My Big Sister Cecily (I've followed her around,
trying to be just like her for 21 years now!)

So, in case you've forgotten what - I suppose I should say Who - matters most to you in your life, take the time to stop and realize who that might be. I'd suggest that maybe you should go tell them they matter to you. Write them a note. Say those terribly frightening words: "I love you". Send them flowers. Do something, anything that will let them know that, at least today, you remembered they matter most. Just a thought.