My personal handicap has always been the novel. When I first
got married, my escape was to secular novels, with all the
foreign hashkofos and unsavoriness which they often
entail. More recently, I have been carefully monitoring the
material that I allow in my consciousness, so that my
subconscious will contain only Yiddishe hashkofos.
Therefore, I have been reading for years only novels written
by frum yidden. Even so, living the lives of the
characters in books has always been much more comfortable
than living my own life and attaining my own goals. Somehow,
Rabbi Wiesner's problems in Libby Lazewnik's Give Me the
Moon always disentangle within the space of a few pages;
author Ruth Benjamin leaves no loose ends, new issues
cropping up, or unsatisfying solutions at the end of her
books.
Only a few years ago, I knew no feeling more satisfying than
that of a good-book-read. That feeling of satisfaction gained
from a novel comes from the feeling of goals reached. Make-
believe characters attain the goals that the author sets up
for them, with nothing more than the scratch of a pen. On the
other hand, my goals can only be achieved with hard work. As
a homemaker, my three main goals must be: efficient
housework, effective childrearing, and contented, loving
marital harmony. Years ago, these goals seemed so unreachable
that I escaped to novels.
As I felt my life spinning out of control, my desire to reach
these goals grew. In order to feel a greater sense of goals
reached, I turned to stories featuring characters who live
fuller lives. I identified most with Rachel Pomerantz's
larger than life characters in A Time to Rend, a Time to
Sew. Those supermen and women accomplish so much with
their allotted time in this world. I asked myself, "Why not
me?" not sensing that I was escaping from reality to fiction.
I should have taken control of my life.
The first step to moving on from the novel took place when I
found the answer to the question of, "Why not me?" I saw that
I could never live a full life by sitting on the couch and
reading a book, that my efforts to pretend that I live in the
latest novel will not change me into a superwoman.
I started adding an occasional Mussar book, biography and
book of advice. My new favorites became Sara Chana
Radcliffe's trilogy; Akeres Habyais; The Delicate Balance;
Aizer K'negdo, about housework, childrearing and
sholom bayis, respectively. Reading these books, I
felt that if I could just try hard enough, I would live in a
novel. If I could just find a little bit of self-discipline,
my problems would melt away. Radcliffe has an answer for
every problem. Her suggestions are highly practical, and no
doubt, quite effective. But the stride from reading advice to
implementing it is tremendous. I was not yet ready to take
that step.
Because I was lacking the self-discipline to stride forward,
I still read more novels than advice books, but at least with
the conscious realization that my favorite characters have no
allotted time on this earth. The supermen-and-women I so
loved are figments of imagination, and not even my
imagination. Slowly, I began to lose interest in novels until
finally, one Purim, I picked up the ArtScroll Megillas Esther
and read its translation and commentary.
A door opened. The brain cells I had neglected since high
school began clamoring for attention. Suddenly, I had the
strength, time and will to read in Hebrew. Elyakim Elinson's
Between Woman and Her Creator, in the original Hebrew,
gave me so much more satisfaction than any novel could have.
Then, when I put down Elinson, I even had enough strength
left over to wash dishes.
Before, I had never realized how novels sapped my strength. I
would close the book, roll over and go to sleep. Now,
finally, my life began to come together. I started taking
control of my housework, began creating dsicipline with love,
and set out seeking sholom bayis.
Yet these are lifelong tasks. Having accustomed myself to a
novel's neat denouement, at which point the reader is left
with no strings hanging, I soon exhausted my own strength. I
continued exploring new texts, went on developing family
relationships, and kept plugging at the housework, but in my
subconscious, I expected to finish the job, just as a novel
comes to a definite conclusion.
As I waited for the day of the Happy Ending, I soon began
reading more articles glorifying the Jewish mother and more
books explaining the Jewish woman's place in the world. My
feet were stuck in the mud of dreams again. Each essay I read
had intrinsic value in strengthening Klal Yisroel; each book
taught important ideas to women. I simply misused them.
Instead of using my strength to create a Jewish home, I
wasted my strength reading about it. I gained intellectual
exercise, appreciation of the worth of my task, practical
ideas for application and goals for the future. But my dishes
stayed in the sink, my children began to wither in the lack
of my involvement and my pride caused arguments to creep back
into the home.
Since then, Baruch Hashem, I have grown a bit, though I still
often struggle with my priorities. Should I relax this
morning in order to have strength for the children in the
afternoon, or do a bit more laundry? Do I really need an
afternoon rest with a book, or can I make do with a cup of
coffee over the childrens' homework? Then a frustrating
morning catches me, in which I start cleaning with zeal, and
get distracted by whatever I find to read in the course of my
cleaning. That afternoon I try to make up for the lost
morning by squashing too much housework around the childrens'
time. By evening, I struggle to keep my eyes open enough to
ask my husband how his day was, but then fall asleep before
hearing the answer. I thank Hashem that those mornings are
slowly disappearing.
I see now that as I grow and accept responsibility, my tastes
in reading reflect my new maturity. This new stage of writing
has grown out of my struggle for self improvement. This
clarification of my thoughts helps me to grow in self-
discipline. Apparently, this essay indicates a closeness to
my goal that was lacking before.
Today, I am still far from my goals as an efficient
housekeeper, effective loving mother, eishes chayil
and also now, creative individual. But I am a far cry from
where I started out. And yes, I do still read novels.
Sometimes. They give me a break from reality when I need it.
The difference lies in my attitude. I never seek to live in
the books I read. I look for a half-hour break to clear my
mind and continue my life more happily.
Perhaps one day I will be too busy and happy to ever get to a
novel. Perhaps I will even write one. For today, I feel that
I have reached a reasonable stage.
May Hashem give us all the strength to grow, to overcome our
personal handicaps and weaknesses, and may He guide our lives
only along the path leading to our goals.
