When my first son was born, along with all the wishes for Mazel Tov, many people wished me Harbei Nachas. I was much too busy with diapers and feeding to enjoy this precious commodity. Along came his sister, another brother in short order, and many more wishes that "You should see much nachas in the future." What nachas? The responsibilites were just about overwhelming...

Poet's Corner

Partner to `Dearest Diary', especially since both authors work in a Baal Tshuva yeshiva in Jerusalem, and are constantly being recharged by the impact of Shabbos on newcomers. As we should be (recharged) ourselves.

SHABBOS
by R' Chaim Salenger

How I've been waiting for Friday,

I've been waiting for nearly a week,
Mine is a life of commotion,
And silence is all that I seek.
The children are setting the table,
And I'm busy shining my shoes,
I'll give 'em a hand when I'm able,
Shabbos is on its way,
We put all our cares away,
Shabbos is on its way.
Through the discipline of joyful resting,
And abstaining from prohibited deeds,
We demonstrate our belief that the world
Through G-d's spoken word was decreed,
The telephone rings - we won't get it,
We all unplug the outside noise,
Completion will come if we let it,
Shabbos is on its way, Shabbos is on its way.
How I've been waiting for Friday,
I've been waiting for nearly a week,
Mine is a life of commotion,
And silence is all that I seek.
The moment is tense and exciting,
The children are shiny and bright,
They watch while their mother is lighting,
Now she's lighting - the Shabbos on its way.
Here to stay for only a day.

DOWN MEMORY LANE

by L.M.W.

I try to trace the footprints in the sand,
Through the tunnel of time, with a magic wand,
The untaken pictures that abide,
The young years,
A bride's tears,
And years of yearning for a child.
Walking down the avenue,
Wishing I was already old,
Beyond the days of praying/waiting,
For a little babe to hold.
Then I would be equal, I thought,
To all greying grannies,
Not sitting in my beach chair,
Behind a nook or cranny,
Unseen by those blessed, well meaning,
"Why don't you join the others?"
So I sat alone,
By my own self-pity smothered.
At other times,
I heard the refrain
Of public service, again and again,
And willingly tried to earn
My place in the sun - a son - my yearn.
And - finally - those hazy days after birth,
Weight in gold, they were worth.
So many diapers and nighttime serenades,
But with time-distance, the discomfort fades.
The sandbox days and fights over rights,
Over toys and bikes,
Was maternal intervention,
The right way to fight?
The best answers - the cure for tantrums,
Divide - or divert, so, sometimes we roamed afar,
Together, by foot, by bus or by car.
My kids did not always excell
In their tests, truth to tell,
The principal called me in,
The girl hadn't committed a sin -
But, by far, had not done her best.
No prizes for conduct,
And a finger pointed at me,
"How is it that you're the one
Who gave parenting speeches
About `How Best it is Done'?
Some children were shy,
Some quite bright,
Some serious,
All a delight.
There was always good fun,
And lots of love all around,
We lived on a simple scale,
Our methods turned out to be sound.
'Cause something Upstairs was O.K.ed,
They got married, as I had prayed,
Created family units, good and giving,
Living lives worth living.
And, thank G-d, things are happy and bright,

AND IT CERTAINLY WASN'T

BECAUSE I GOT IT ALL RIGHT.

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