Friday afternoon. Sima stood there exhausted -- her legs were
swollen and her back was hurting again. After two full days
of preparing for Shabbos, there were still things to be done:
to fold some laundry, prepare the rooms for the guests and
make another trip to the grocery.
She set the Shabbos table quickly and efficiently. She had to
open it and add another leaf -- all by herself. Her husband
wasn't home yet and the girls who used to help out so much --
well, they were married now and would probably show up at the
last minute. The challos had to go into the stove, and
though the frosting was ready to go on the cake, she still
had to finish making the ice cream. How could she possibly
manage all this? Besides, her Tehillim was also waiting. And
who would pick up Savta from Tel Aviv?
Yes, it was a pleasure to host guests, but where was she
supposed to get the strength from? She wasn't so young any
more. How could they take it all for granted? All this work,
and not a word of thanks or appreciation? She felt herself
growing weaker. Negative thoughts filled her mind. Why put in
so much effort if they didn't appreciate it?
The table was almost ready. How should she fold the napkins?
This was once the girls' job but now it was hers. The table
looked beautiful and she loved beautiful things for Shabbos.
But what about herself? It wasn't proper to go into Shabbos
with such a bad feeling. She should do something about it.
She had to get rid of the depressing thoughts and put herself
in a good mood.
Flowers!
Yes, definitely! Flowers would help brighten her mood.
However, it was late and the store would surely be closed by
the time she got there. But wait, she had their number
written down in the phone book. She quickly dialed the number
and ordered "a large scented bouquet, please. You know my
favorite flowers," she reminded the saleslady. "And please
add a card."
"Whom are they for?" asked the saleslady.
"Well..." she murmured hesitatingly. How could she say they
were for her -- flowers from Ima to Ima? "Oh," she finally
burst out, "they're for my mother. Please write, `Dear Ima,
We have no words to express our appreciation for the
wonderful things you constantly do for all of us. May we have
a wonderful Shabbos together. With love, from your grateful
children." The saleslady was confused. What exactly was going
on here? But Sima skirted the issue and explained that the
flowers were from the whole family for her mother who was
also going to spend Shabbos with them.
The hours flew by; the girls arrived with their husbands and
children and amidst all the noise and general excitement, the
doorbell rang. Everyone was suddenly quiet. Sima's husband
went to open the door. Opposite him stood a young man holding
an enormous bouquet of flowers.
"It's a mistake," he immediately claimed. "It's probably for
the neighbors opposite us." But the delivery boy was
stubborn. "No, it's for you. That's what the card says."
Her husband stood there surprised. As far as he knew, there
was no birthday in the family and no simchas either.
Everyone came over to read the card. Who had taken the
initiative to send it? Maybe it was Abba? But he shook his
head. "It's a wonderful idea and I should have sent
it," he said discomfited.
The girls? No, they admitted that it wasn't their idea,
either.
So who could it be? Who knew how to be grateful and to
appreciate Ima in this house? Then the new son-in-law
guessed, "I know. It's Ima who sent it to herself." Ima
smiled and the riddle was solved. Everyone was relieved and a
little bit wiser. The graceful bouquet was placed in the
center of the table for everyone to enjoy.
*
Yes, not everything should be taken for granted. Ima works
very hard to prepare the house and make everyone feel
welcome. They, too, should chip in and help out. The noise
level goes up as each member of the family calls out, "How
can I help? What is there left to do?" "Someone has to pick
up Savta from the station." And suddenly, there is a
volunteer.
*
There she sat in her favorite armchair, glowing with joy and
overwhelmed by gratitude. What a wonderful family! There was
so much to be thankful for! With a small effort, she had
overcome her depression and now the happiness was
spreading.
Savta stood in the doorway looking at all the activity. "What
a beautiful bouquet! Who is it for?" she called out. Her
daughter answered with a smile, "Why, it's for you! Read the
card."
Shabbos is about to be ushered in. It's almost time to light
the candles. Full of joy, Sima's lips murmur, "Thank you,
Hashem, for all this good. May we truly merit to rejoice with
every Shabbos according to Your will."
