Post-partum depression compounded by the difficulty of moving
to a new neighborhood and ever-present money problems
threaten Beila's mental stability.
Part II
Only one thing kept her going in a normal way. With all her
heart and soul, she was attached to her siddur, to the
daily prayers and the Tehillim which she said with emotion
and tears and deep concentration. Only those words, which
poured out of her to Hashem, could keep her going. Half lying
in bed, she wet her siddur with her pleas, her cries,
and her anguish. Only the siddur didn't try to
convince her with words that she couldn't relate to. She
couldn't stand all those people who tried to influence her
way of feeling or thinking. She was intelligent enough to
appreciate the fact that she had been blessed with a good
husband and wonderful children and felt pangs of remorse that
she could not enjoy them and thank Hashem for these gifts.
She wanted to but she couldn't. Only the prayers could help
her forge a link to Hashem and keep the connection open.
"You know, Ima," she said once during one of her good moments
when she could still talk to people, "I feel that the
prayers, only the prayers, will help me get out of this
situation." And even if her mother felt otherwise, she didn't
dare express her thoughts.
*
This time, he would try and hopefully succeed, Moish decided,
as he wrote the information down on a piece of paper.
His wife's condition worried him constantly, and he couldn't
see any help forthcoming. With this, perhaps, he would be
able to encourage her to get out a bit.
"Look, Beila," he turned to her as soon as he came back from
shul, "you must have heard about the groups of women
who get together regularly to say Tehillim. Every day the
women meet in someone else's home where they give out the
sectioned booklets of Tehillim, and they also pray for those
in need. They complete the entire Tehillim at one time. It's
a wonderful idea, isn't it?"
Beila nodded and Moish continued without waiting. "Look, just
now I found this notice posted on the board in the hall.
There's a group that meets in the mornings which should be
very convenient for you. You only have the baby at home and
you can take him with you. He's usually very quiet at that
time. He might even sleep in his carriage, right? What do you
say? How about giving it a try?"
"I-I don't know," she stammered. But this time, for some
reason, she felt she couldn't turn down this suggestion. It
was an important project but what connection did she have
with the neighborhood? Who cares about me, anyway? she
thought. They don't know me at all and all the women there
are probably good friends already. I'll be the only
stranger.
"How can I go somewhere where no one knows me? I just walk in
and sit down?" Moish smiled and nodded. "Exactly. It's not a
social event." He heard the hesitant tone in her voice and
thought he might be able to convince her. Tehillim. Yes, it
was the Tehillim which spoke to her and aroused her interest.
She couldn't refuse, she couldn't resist its call.
Many more words were spoken and much effort was expended but
it was well worth it. On Friday morning, Beila went out of
her house to the neighbor in the next building where the
Tehillim group was meeting that day. Her husband was home and
he stayed with the baby. He also helped with Shabbos
preparations so she could feel free to leave.
It was only the idea of saying Tehillim that encouraged her
and gave her weak heart and mind the strength to go. With
measured steps, she moved slowly towards the neighbor's
house. She had no idea how she would get in or what she would
say once she arrived there, how she would start, since none
of the neighborhood women were familiar to her.
Her fears soon disappeared. As she was walking, a young woman
came over and before she could figure out who it was, she
turned to her with a smile and said, "Oh, so you're also
going to the Tehillim group today! Wonderful! On a Friday,
yet! I thought I'd be the only one today, and look at all the
women here already."
By now they had entered Mrs. Silver's living room. Several
ladies were sitting around the table and more joined them as
the booklets were handed out. Suddenly, it dawned on Beila
that everyone took her appearance in a natural manner. She
realized that she might not be the only one among these women
who was here for the first time.
There was an aura of holiness in the room and everyone's face
bore a serious look. They said the Tehillim slowly,
pronouncing each word carefully. She wasn't sure at first,
but then she saw that some women even shed tears as they
read. It was so good for her. She connected to the words and
their meanings, the voice in her heart filling with each
chapter she read.
When she finished saying her booklets, she noticed that the
others had also finished but no one got up to leave yet. I
wonder what they'll do next, she thought. She again felt
unsure of herself and disturbed by the fact that she didn't
know anyone. But soon she felt carried away as Mrs. Silver
read the prayer at the conclusion of the joint recital. Then
she opened a notebook lying on the table and read names of
those in need. Beila found herself answering "Amen" along
with the others and praying silently and fervently that they
would be granted heavenly assistance in whatever area they
needed. It amazed her that although she recognized none of
the names and had no idea what type of lives they led, she
felt deeply for their pain and the pain of their families,
something she had not done in a long time. Here she was
caring about others!
Mrs. Silver reached the end of the list. Now as she reached
the words, "and send a complete recovery..." she again
reached for the notebook and in a patient, caring voice, read
out another list of names. It was long and Beila didn't
recognize any of the names, but somehow, her heart was full
of sympathy for them. Then suddenly, between one "Amen" and
the next name, it happened.
She heard Mrs. Silver mention "Beila Chana bas Rina Tova." As
all those present answered "Amen", she started saying "Amen"
herself and it dawned on her that all these women were
praying for her health. One of the ladies even put a coin in
the box for a refua. Beila held her breath. Before she
let the reaction set in, before she gave way to anger,
frustration or depression, as she wanted to, she looked
around to see how the women were relating to her, the sick
one, here in person. She tried to catch an eye here and
there, to gauge their reactions, but not one of the women
even glanced her way. Nor did they try to avoid her stare on
purpose. They just continued with the prayers and the
names.
She couldn't take it any more. Her feelings were in a turmoil
and threatened to overwhelm her. First of all: the chutzpa.
The chutzpa to call her weakness a sickness and to pray for
her as a sick person. The utter shame to be considered as
such and to be remembered here under such stressful
conditions. All this threatened to come to a head in this
strange house in front of all these strange women. Still, she
realized that there was nothing she could say against them.
All these women here who sat and prayed for her health, every
day, and even gave tzedoka -- were they really such
strangers? How could she be angry with them? Beila's thoughts
continued to whirl around in her head. Only when she noticed
that the Silver's living room was emptying out did she get up
to leave.
I won't tell anyone at home what happened, she
promised herself. It was too shameful.
Shabbos, which came ever so quickly, found her even more
wrapped up in her thoughts than usual. But it was then,
actually, that a new thought crept into her mind -- perhaps
she really ought to do something about her health. If even
the neighbors were praying for her, it must mean that she
truly needed help.
*
No one knew what she did or how she did it. Only Beila and
her husband took practical steps to find a solution, which
thankfully turned out to be less difficult than they had
thought. What is clear, though, is that after about a month,
on a Friday, when she next joined the Tehillim group, she
quietly went over and asked Mrs. Silver to take her name off
the list.
"She has already recovered and is feeling fine, Baruch
Hashem," she added.
"Oh, wonderful, do you know her, then?" Mrs. Silver asked
happily, and immediately crossed the name out with a bold
stroke. Next to it she wrote, "has recovered b'ezras
Hashem."
*
"You see!" her mother said. "I told you. I knew if you
started getting out of the house more often, you'd feel
better. I was right, wasn't I?"
"And I'm glad you decided to listen to me and get outside
help. See, now you feel better," her sister noted.
Beila smiled and nodded. "You are both right, but it was
really in the merit of the Tehillim. Just as I had felt all
along."
