I used to live in a suburb of a middle-sized city in Middle
America. The houses in this area were all large and beautiful
with spacious lawns and many had a private lake. Of all the
beautiful homes to choose as a favorite, there was one that I
especially loved and we always referred to it as Ima's dream
house. The most special part of it was the breakfast nook.
The house was built in a rambling split-level style on a hill
with a huge back lawn sloping down a small but very exclusive
little lake. The huge kitchen led into a sunny breakfast area
with large windows overlooking this backyard. It was
furnished in wicker with loads of plants indoors, giving the
illusion of being joined to the shrubs outside the windows
and glass doors. It was like sitting in the garden of Eden
lehavdil, so sunny, warm, green and peaceful. On the
other side of the room, two steps led down to a formal dining
room which picked up the greenery in the tones of the carpet
and the stripes of green and gold on the chairs. Further to
the left was the formal living room continuing the gracious
flow of beautiful objects to the impressive front door and
more green lawns ahead.
The breakfast room stuck in my mind and heart as the "dream
room" all through the years of suburban living, aliya-
immigration, absorption and many years of living in
Jerusalem. Such jealousy. A real green-eyed monster. What a
yetzer hora!
What I forgot to make clear was that the dream house was not
ours. Actually, the people who lived in the house were bitter
and unhappy with all their wealth and comfort. And they never
sat together in their breakfast room, smiling and speaking
kindly to each other. The house distinctly radiated vibes of
tension and repressed anger. The people are no longer living,
since this is an old story, but I remember thinking then that
the Gan Eden was wasted on them.
But the little voice of envy, my personal yetzer hora
of jealousy, persisted throughout these thirty years.
This morning, I was sitting at my chipped old kitchen table,
received from the Ministry of Absorption, in my modest home
in Yerusholayim. My husband and I were having our once-a-week
huge breakfast in the middle of a busy Friday morning. From
my window, we could see the hills of the Holy City. Our home
is, boruch Hashem, full of warmth and kind words and
we look forward to our weekly breakfast together at our
little old table.
It suddenly struck me that I am actually living the "dream
house" in all the ways that are truly important. And so, at
long last, I was able to finally lay my foolish jealousy to
rest.
