One of the first things I do after the house is back in
chometz-working order is examine my Grand List.
My Grand List is a list of everything I want to do in my
life.
After Pesach is a good time to examine such a list because
goals and aspirations are easier to consider when the
kitchen cabinets are clean.
I keep fifty items on my Grand List at all times. When one
goal is realized, I remove it from the list and put a new
one in its place.
A Grand List is beneficial for many reasons. For one thing,
I know what I want. That's an important first step towards
achieving anything.
Second, I know what I don't want. That means that when I
hear the inner ogre demanding that I discover nothing less
than life on Mars, I can just say, no, I don't have to
discover life on Mars because that's not on my list.
I first made my list several years ago. You might think that
with such conscientious planning and prioritizing I would
have accomplished loads by now and that by the time I'm a
Bubbie I will have discovered the Lost Tribes.
There's only one problem: I'm stuck.
I've had a few victories along the way, but at the moment,
I'm stuck. Stuck like one gets stuck in the mud. As stuck as
a wad of gum under the tabletop. Really stuck.
A few nights ago, before bedtime, my four year-old burst out
crying, "Where is my sticker? I can't say Shema
without my sticker!"
She and her big sister looked all around the room, on the
floor, in the closet, under the pillows.
In my daughter's gan, the teacher places tiny
stickers on each girl's right hand to remind her which hand
to place over her eyes for Shema. Every day, my four
year-old comes home with a different sticker.
"Do you want me to show you which is your right hand?" I
asked.
"Nooooooooo!"
"Do you want me to give you one of my stickers?" her sister
asked. "I'll put it on for you."
"No! I want myyyyy sticker."
She continued searching in her bed, burying her head under
the sheets.
"Here it is!" cried her big sister, who had been fumbling
around her own bed sheets. "I found your sticker! Come here
and I'll show you which hand . . . "
My four year-old jumped out of bed and grabbed the sticker.
"I don't need you to show me," she said. She marched back to
her own bed, sat herself up just right and slapped the
sticker onto her right hand. She covered her eyes and waited
for me to begin.
At first I thought her behavior was really silly. What's the
big deal if she has her sticker or not? She can say
Shema without it.
Then I considered my Grand List. Maybe the reason I'm stuck
is because I'm also waiting for my sticker. That may be why
many of us have difficulty accomplishing our goals.
We can't get a better job because we don't have enough
confidence. We can't improve our parenting skills because we
don't have enough time. We'd like to make new friends, but
we can't until we get our act together. We would like to be
happy -- but we can't. Not until the house is clean.
We wait and wait.
I once read a play about two characters who sat on stage,
waiting for something to happen. They wait for somebody to
enter so that the play can begin. They wait for the choir to
sing and the dancers to jump. They wait for the lights to
fade in and for the music to flourish.
Near the end of the play, they both die.
It's not the ending that is so sorry; it's all those dull,
empty scenes before.
"Someone" who loves us very much and trusts our capabilities
more than anyone in the world has given us the tools to
accomplish what we set out to do. Acknowledging Hashem's
unfathomable trust in us can assist our taking one brave
step forward.
These weeks before Shavuos are a propitious time to take
steps, tiny steps, baby steps toward the mountain.
We may not reach the very top.
Then again, we might.
Even if we get no further than the foothills, it will have
been good that we traveled.
