"Poor Mrs. Cohen," thought Michal as she hurried across the
street, hoping Mrs. Cohen hadn't noticed her walking away.
"What could I possibly tell her?" she thought to herself.
"What could I say about her three- year-old daughter? Should
I have said she's cute? How could I? After all, she's
deaf."
Suddenly she shivered. Deaf. Such a terrible word -- unable
to hear others' speech. She moved forward quickly, not
noticing where she was going. No. She wasn't capable of
smiling brightly and saying how cute the little girl was.
*
Mrs. Cohen was walking down the street, pushing a baby
carriage with a three-year-old girl walking alongside.
Everyone seemed to be hurrying today, she thought. Was it a
special day today? Why was everyone rushing somewhere? She
continued along, gazing at her sweet children, and stroked
Racheli gently. It seems as if people are running away
from me, she thought for a moment.
A minute ago, she had seen Shuli glancing at Racheli and then
quickly moving away. They're afraid of meeting me with
Racheli, she thought sadly. Oh, if they only knew how
many gifts Hashem has blessed Racheli with, she thought,
hastily wiping away a tear.
*
THURSDAY. Michal was busy cleaning the house for Shabbos.
Finally, the last room was done and she looked with
satisfaction at the spotless shelves where not a speck of
dust appeared, and the freshly mopped floor. Suddenly, the
phone rang, interrupting her thoughts.
"Hello... Yes, of course! No problem!" she answered. "We'll
be very happy to have you all." Holding the phone, she headed
for the freezer. I'll have to defrost some more chickens.
There'll be a whole family coming for Shabbos.
She heard herself repeat the phrase, "No problem. My
pleasure."
Michal -- Mrs. Becker -- lived next to an important pediatric
hospital. She couldn't remember just when she had decided to
take it upon herself to host people, but for the past several
years, many families had been coming from out-of-town, and
even from abroad, with sick children. The hospital happened
to be situated far from the religious areas, so practically
every Shabbos, they would host several guests. People arrived
from New York, England, France or even Australia. Sometimes,
there were interesting conversations around the table, and
occasionally, only a few words would be exchanged,
accompanied by lots of pantomime and facial expressions.
To see the shining eyes at the end of Shabbos was more than
enough reward for all their efforts. "You gave us new
strength!" many of them exclaimed. "You made it easier for us
to go through with it," others praised her and her husband
and even the children, Eli, Yossi and Sari.
FRIDAY. In the spotlessly clean house, delicious aromas
wafted through the air, while in the dining room, the table
was set with shining silverware, beautiful napkins, and
sparkling glasses. Michal glanced anxiously at the wall clock
-- in half an hour it would be Shabbos and the guests hadn't
arrived yet. Finally, the long awaited knocks sounded at the
door. A tall couple stood in the doorway with two cute little
children.
"Please come in," Michal said as she showed her guests into
the living room. "Oh, are they twins?" she asked, looking at
the curly-heads.
"Yes," the mother presented her children with a smile. "The
girl is Yael and the boy is Yoel. The baby is in the hospital
and we're so grateful you could have us for Shabbos."
"My pleasure," Michal answered as she served them all cold
drinks. "Soon the men will be going to shul," she
explained to her guests. "I'll join your husband, of course,"
said the husband, introducing himself as Moshe. They settled
in and soon the men were off, leaving the women and children
to relax in the comfortable living room. The time passed
pleasantly while Michal and her guest chatted, and the twins
played with Michal's toddler. Sounds of laughter filled the
house.
"I hope the baby's alright," Nurit said, sighing deeply. "But
never mind. Just being here in this warm atmosphere does
wonders for all of us." Soon after, the men walked in,
cutting short the women's conversation.
The delicious Shabbos meal was tastefully served, while the
men provided Torah insights on the weekly parsha.
Michal felt a warm affection for the lively twins. "There's
something so clever and and special about them!" she
exclaimed warmly.
"Do you really think so?" Nurit asked, looking very pleased
and surprised at the compliment. "Do you really think they're
both clever?" she asked again.
"Why do you doubt it?" Michal wondered. "To tell the truth, I
never got so excited before about other children, but Yael
and Yoel seem to be exceptional." Throughout the Shabbos,
Michal picked them up and would kiss them warmly. "My
children are starting to get jealous," she said, laughing
across at Nurit.
Nurit's husband Moshe walked to the hospital several times on
Shabbos to see how the baby was doing. "He looks much better
now," he announced as he arrived several moments before
seuda shlishit, "and the doctors are pleased." He
smiled, relieved.
"He went through heart surgery," Nurit explained, enjoying
the attention they were being given without any prying.
Motzaei Shabbos arrived and the separation was almost
painful.
What wonderful guests, Michal though to herself. "We
enjoyed having you so much!" she said warmly. Her guests, who
felt the same way, were also moved.
"It was like a beacon of light in the darkness," they told
her. They were almost finished packing when Moshe took out
what looked like a jewelry box. He called to his daughter,
"Yaeli, come here, sweetie."
Michal couldn't believe her eyes. The father saw her standing
there, stupefied, and said with a smile, "Just hearing aids,"
he explained. "Why are you so shocked?"
"I-I didn't know. I never realized..." Her face turned red
with embarrassment.
The parents stood together. "It's not a secret, but it's
interesting that you never even noticed," Nurit said. "Yaeli
lost a good portion of her hearing as an infant." Michal
continued to stare at the beautiful blue-eyed, curly-haired
little girl. "It happened after she received a large dose of
antibotics through IV. At that time, they didn't realize the
risk of loss of hearing." Nurit sat down. "You have no idea
how upset we were when we realized that she wasn't reacting
normally anymore. When we spoke, only Yoeli would turn around
and react. At first, we thought Yaeli was suffering from some
kind of brain damage. Yoeli began saying words and she would
sit there quietly."
Silence reigned in the room. Yoeli stroked his sister's
cheek. He realized they were talking about her. "We went
through a terribly trying time. We had no idea whether she
could be helped or if she would ever be able to hear again at
all. At first they did surgery to drain her ears and we
noticed the difference immediately, because she started to
react to her surroundings again." Nurit paused for a moment.
"At night, too, she would wake up when there was noise." She
gently caressed the little girl's head. "Then, the hearing
test she took showed that she did perceive sound but there
were tones that didn't register. It saddened us to think of
her being fitted with a hearing aid, but it would be sadder
to think of her being without it." Michal glanced at Yael
building a tower of blocks. "We learned a lot from her,"
Nurit said, smiling at the busy little girl. "She taught us a
new way of looking a life and how to appreciate hearing aids,
among other things."
A YEAR LATER. Many guests came to Michal's home: sweet little
children, smiling babies, but somehow, she couldn't forget
those cute twins, their cleverness and special charm.
It was 10 o'clock a.m. Michal was organizing herself to go to
the local Mother and Child Clinic. She was hoping that she
wouldn't be late, that she wouldn't hear the nurse's
sarcastic greeting, "Oh, so you're late again, Mrs.
Becker."
She hurried to put Shira in her carriage with a light blanket
to cover her. The baby smiled, and two dimples appeared on
her cheeks. Michal kissed her and rushed off.
"You're early this time. What happened?" she heard the nurse
greeting her. This time she sounded much friendlier. "Today
we'll give Shira a hearing test," she announced. Michal sat
on a chair holding the baby, while the nurse jingled bells,
crinkled cellophane, stirred a spoon in a cup and made sounds
with other instruments, standing first behind one side, then
the other. They waited for a reaction, but in vain. The baby
sat there smiling sweetly, but not reacting to the sounds,
not turning her head at all. Michal froze in her seat,
realizing the significance of all this. Sweet, beautiful
Shira, with the trusting eyes, could not hear!
For a moment, she felt the room spinning around her. Her
hands started trembling. "Mrs. Becker, are you alright?" she
heard the nurse calling to her through her daze. Michal
looked at her in confusion. "Is my child deaf?" she blurted,
the words escaping unbidden.
"It's too early to pronounce such a drastic diagnosis," said
the nurse with a reassuring smile. "Anyway, there is a wide
range between hard-of-hearing and deafness, and very few
people are completely deaf."
Michal dragged herself home. She finally arrived, still in a
daze, entered the privacy of her apartment and sank heavily
into a chair. Then she let the tears flow down her cheeks.
For a moment, she was afraid to look at her child. She had
always thought of the deaf as unintelligent beings. But
suddenly, she remembered those blue-eyed twins playing and
tumbling, chattering away happily. She had spent a whole
Shabbos with them and never for a moment had she thought that
Yaeli was different than Yoeli.
Suddenly, Michal felt relieved. With Hashem's help, there
would be a way to help her daughter. She wasn't totally deaf,
that she realized. Michal knew she would have to change her
negative attitude about deafness.
"Cast your bread upon the waters," the words suddenly jumped
into her mind. "Because of my hospitality," she thought,
"it's so much easier for me to deal with this challenge. With
Hashem's help, I'll be able to help Shira."
Michal hugged her little girl tightly. "Now I know that just
because someone has a hearing problem, it doesn't make them
less intelligent." Again, she pictured the curly-haired
twins. "Hashem prepared the medicine ahead of time," she
thought. Hearing aids help people hear just the way glasses
help them see." The pain in her heart lessened.
She sent a heartful prayer of thanks to Hashem for showing
her the way.
