It's 8:05 a.m. on a very warm, sunny Monday morning, end of June. My
spirits are in high gear. After weeks of anticipating my four-day Mother's
Holiday Camp, I'm finally out the door.
My friend Leah and I will be sharing a room at a well known five-star
hotel. (We really wanted a six-star hotel, but were told that they simply
don't exist. We will just have to manage somehow.) The chartered bus that
will take us to what we hope will be an oasis of rest and relaxation has
several pick-up stops along the route to our vacation spot.
"Listen," I suggest to my soon-to-be-roomate, "I'll wait at one of the
first bus stops and save you a seat. This way we can sit in the front of
the bus and increase our chances of keeping our breakfast down where it
belongs."
"Good idea," Leah agrees. Actually, all my ideas are good. Modesty,
however, prevents me from mentioning this fact.
It's now 8:30 a.m. I'm waiting in the right place, at the right time, but
there is no chartered bus in sight. Only my suitcase and I are standing at
the pre-arranged bus stop. Two little girls are making their way to school,
obviously late.
My trusty cell phone in hand, I call my friend. "Leah," I say anxiously,
"there's no one else here. I mean, wouldn't there be other women waiting
here to be picked up?"
"Yes, you're right. I'll call Mrs. Levine and find out what's going on."
At this point, the vision of a modern, comfortable, air conditioned bus is
slowly but surely evaporating in my mind. As beads of perspiration appear
on my forehead, the phone rings.
"Hi, I'm back. Mrs. Levine says that you're the only one being picked up at
that stop..."
I offer a short prayer to Hashem that they don't forget me. It took me five
hours to pack my suitcase, and superhuman strength to get it on and off the
bus that brought me to this departure point. I can't turn back now.
At last, at 9:00 a.m., the bus makes its appearance. My prayers have been
answered! The kavana one acquires in moments of desperation is
amazing. Two stops after, my friend boards the bus. Finally, a bus full of
excited women, including Leah and myself, is on its way.
The hotel staff greets us with a lavish lunch and the keys to our rooms. As
outdoor temperatures hover close to 40 degrees C., we unpack and head for
the pool. Since water is not my favorite element, unless it is in the form
of snow, the other mothers must persuade me to follow. They are successful
only one day out of four.
The next morning, we arise bright and early for shacharis. Davening
away from home means that you can give it your all. No interruptions. No
phone calls. No one knocking at the door to borrow sugar. Actually,
somebody does knock, but since I don't have any sugar with me, I don't
asnwer. No emergencies like: "Moshe kicked me and I kicked him back and his
mother is on her way to talk to you..." Moshe's mother lives at least 150
kilometers away from here and there is little chance that she will show
up...
Having run out of shampoo, we approach one of the maids on our floor. It
soon becomes clear that she speaks no known language, but rather a dialect
that sounds like a cross between Hungarian and Swahili. We resort to sign
language by pointing to the needed items on her supply cart and smiling a
lot. She helps us with a look of pity for our limited ability to
communicate.
In keeping with the Rambam's teaching that breakfast is the most important
meal of the day, I eat accordingly. Nevertheless, I am determined to lose
all the weight I will gain from the vast array of fattening foods. At least
I will try, and try I do.
I spend half an hour each day in the fitness room for this `mission
impossible.' And, believe it or not, I work off 61 calories each day.
You're not impressed? Neither was my roommate, though she didn't say it in
so many words. But I was not so easily dissuaded, after noticing in the
mirror that my nose looked a bit thinner than usual.
In addition to the pool and fitness room, our holiday gives us `food for
thought' with classes on diverse subjects. These `appetizers' include: a
demonstration on the art of scarf tying (which we successfully accomplished
without choking ourselves on the third try); a clinical psychologist who
explained the different personality types (none of which we had); and a
hotel chef who showed us 101 ways to cook rice. In addition, a prominent
rav traveled a considerable distance to inspire us with his insights on
bitachon.
The time passes all too quickly. Before we know it, it's time to pack up
again. On our way back to reality, we stop again at the tomb of R' Meir
Baal Haness in Tverya, where we pray that the tzaddik intercede on
our behalf.
We all need a break occasionally to relieve ourselves from the tensions
and stresses of everyday life. But just as much as we feel the need to `get
away from it all', we also realize how much we miss our families.
Yes, it really was good to have a change of environment and atmosphere, and
a chance to recharge our batteries, both spirtual and physical. But now,
energy restored, it feels good to be back. To return home and continue with
our main task in life: being good wives and mothers.
