"You should learn from your little sister, Henny, how to play
properly," the flute teacher screwed up her face in anger and
told me in an irritated voice. I turned my head away in
shame, trying to overcome my tears. "Look how Henny seals the
holes of the recorder properly. She isn't whistling loudly.
She's playing pleasantly," the music teacher continued to
comment, hurting me to the quick. That was it. I couldn't
play any more. I held the recorder loosely on my lap in
despair and sighed. The wonderful mood in which I had come to
the music class vanished as if it had never been. Frustrated,
I slowly made my way home.
*
"Why are you home so late?" my older sister `welcomed' me. "I
was beginning to worry about you." I remained silent. Who
could understand my pain, anyway? People only consider a high
fever or when you fall and bleed a lot as signs of sickness
or distress. They don't understand that insult and hurt are
worse than physical pain.
Malki, my older sister, looked at me with her big blue eyes.
"Well, now that you're here, go straighten up the children's
room so they can go to sleep," she hurried me off.
With weak knees, I walked towards the messy children's room.
Blankets were strewn on the floor, pillows without
pillowcases, papers littered everywhere and parts of the
floor were wet and muddy. Slowly, I began picking up the
pillows and put new fragrant pillowcases fresh from the
cupboard on them, also straightening the crumpled sheets in
the linen cupboard.
"Nu, where are you??? Why is the room still in such a mess?"
my sister said, sticking in her head three minutes later and
looking around the room uncomprehending.
"I'm straightening this shelf," I answered pleasantly.
"Who needs you to straighten up the linen shelf NOW?" Malki
shouted into the room. She was really mad. "The little ones
want to sleep and their beds aren't made yet."
"So come and make them with me," I suggested calmly.
"But I have to finish bathing them. And besides, Henny has
already fixed the guest room up tip-top and has even begun
clearing the milk counter. Why aren't you like Henny?"
Malki slammed the door and left. Now I was feeling exhausted,
like a squeezed lemon. Enough! How many times in one day
can I hear the same annoying sentence: "Why can't you be like
Henny. Learn from her... Do like she does..." Why don't they
understand that that very sentence stabs me in the heart and
makes it bleed?
It was true that I tried to adapt to my situation at home,
the never-ending comparisons that are made between me and my
younger sister by a year. But it didn't work. With every
comparison, I found the tears falling!
My only consolation was Shmulik, my oldest brother who was in
yeshiva and got along well with me. It seemed to me that he
was the only one who understood me, despite the fact that I'm
the third child. But this didn't comfort me. Malki, my older
sister, was home with me most hours of the day and her
continual annoyance created a painful scar in my heart.
The long, exhausting evening was finally over. My younger
brothers were in a deep, blissful sleep. Heavily and in an
angry mood, I opened my schoolbag to finish my homework. I
sat alone, facing my geometry homework, my chin cupped in my
hands and my head deep in thought. From the next room, happy
voices emerged, echoes of funny, lively conversations flowing
out. Henny was there, apparently incapable of moving without
her friends.
Malki walked by me a bit pityingly. "Why don't you invite
friends over, too? Look how many friends Henny has." Her
voice was soft. I was silent. Again, Henny, and again, Henny,
Henny. If Hashem made me as I was, why did I have to be my
younger sister's double?
I had trouble falling asleep at night. I tossed and turned,
analyzing my family setup and my heart broke into tiny
pieces. How could I help it if my younger sister was so much
more successful, so much more popular?
People were always comparing us. By nature, I'm quieter, shy,
introverted, lacking in self esteem. I don't have any
confidence in my hidden strengths and I usually keep to
myself, while Henny, in contrast, is active, energetic,
outgoing, popular, sociable and also does well in her
studies. Henny knows how to cook, bake, straighten up and she
makes a lot of impressive noise going about it. We usually
got along well together but it was those around us who
spoiled things for us.
More than once, after we'd had a fight, we found a compromise
by discussing it, but Malki would hurry in to interfere and
take Henny's side. She was the younger one, after all.
"Why can't you be neutral?" I begged Malki.
"Oh, I always am," was her confident reaction.
And my parents? Where were they during this miserable
scenario? Most of the day, my father was away in kollel. And
during the hours he was home with us, Malki treated me with
kid gloves. And whenever she did annoy me in his prescence,
he would scold her to stop at once.
My mother is a nurse by profession. Her shift is spread over
the hours of the day and the wee hours of the night.
In general, I tended not to share my deep pain with anyone. I
bore the insult alone. I didn't want to upset my parents and
also left my big brother out of the picture.
*
The days passed in the same way, dark and gray. The contrast
between me and Henny became part of my daily routine.
Sometimes I'd look for some kind of quality bulletproof vest
to protect myself, but I couldn't find one. I remained
vulnerable like a tree in the fall that casts off its leaves,
defenseless, bereft of joy or vitality.
Until... until my big brother got engaged.
Happiness has within it the power to soften a bone, to plant
hope and optimism among the celebrants. And perhaps, my
closeness to my older brother is what refreshed me and
renewed my repressed youthful energy.
In any case, I threw myself with boundless energy into the
preparations. Suddenly, I started initiating activity: I took
my sisters to the seamstress; I bought them matching hair
bands; I baked two cakes for the engagement. What didn't I
do?
At that time, I felt like I was another girl, a new person
filled with creativity, motivated and stimulated. Malki's
comparisons between me and Henny, which lessened at that
time, went in one ear and out the other and had little effect
on me.
But all this was until the wedding. The magical bubble of
happiness that had enveloped me quickly burst. My dear eldest
brother went to live out of town with Varda, my new sister-in-
law. "That's it. Now I'll rarely see my understanding
brother." I was sad after the wedding when we parted from the
young couple.
"Who'll empathize with me now and project their feelings of
trust to me?" I wept secretly. The sheva brochos
passed very quickly. I once again returned to being the
quiet, introverted girl, shy and self-contained. Once again,
the name "Henny" echoed in my head with all the misery it
entailed.
On the Thursday of the sheva brochos, we were invited
to the kalla's parents, who lived out of town. Her
mother hosted it.
At the end of the seudas mitzva, Malki gave me the
little ones' coats and asked that I prepare the children to
leave. Meanwhile, as I was wrapping them up in their warm
wool coats, I fixed this one's shirt that had come out of his
pants, I did up another one's sweater and straightened the
third's unkempt hair, I brought a tissue and helped the
fourth one blow his nose, all with a personal, loving touch.
In short, getting their coats on was only part of the care
and attention I lavished on them. Mainly, I tried to make
sure that each one felt good and comfortable and that they
wouldn't catch cold from the blustery wind outside.
Because of this, the procedure took a long time. Each one of
my siblings received patient, `only child' treatment. At the
same time, Malki and Henny helped clear the table from the
leftovers, sweep the floor and put the baked goods together.
Each one did her job at top speed and efficiency and finished
their self-assigned task. Soon the living room was cleared
and empty.
"Tell me, how long does it take to put on a few coats?" Malki
grumbled. "You take the easiest job and it takes you two
hours. When will you be like Henny?" she continued, putting
me down angrily.
The large room was empty of people. It was late at night. The
guests had already gone home and the mothers of the
chosson and kalla were busy in the kitchen.
Only my little brothers sat in the living room, waiting to
leave.
Malki was sure she was speaking only to me, so that as long
as no one heard her, it was alright to insult and humiliate
me. But what she didn't notice was that right nearby, in the
doorway of the children's room which adjoined the living
room, stood Varda, our new sister-in-law.
She heard every word. Heard them and took it all in. Her kind
face contorted with pain. Her soft eyes reflected sadness as
she looked at me with a caressing and encouraging look and
kept quiet.
At that moment, I was comforted from the `loss' of my older
brother. My sister-in-law was so intuitively understanding.
She conveyed her identification with me wordlessly but I
could feel her considerate empathy and commiseration. At that
moment, I should have been embarrassed that she saw me
disgraced, but there was something about her that was warm
and special. I felt that I had merited a sister-in-law who
was like a sister.
*
My mother hosted the last sheva brochos. Many
preparations accompanied the joyous event, before and after.
My mother did everything superbly and we were called upon to
help. At the end of the celebration, we hurried to clean the
house and restore it to its previous state. Ima began
straightening out the living room while Malki and Henny, who
always got along perfectly together, attacked the mountains
of dishes. I began organizing the children's room where the
women had been.
Truth is, by that time, I didn't have much energy left for
the cleanup. During the entire meal, when we served one
course after another, Malki kept rushing me the entire time.
"Get a move-on. Hurry and collect the empty plates." "Henny's
already heated up the bourekas." Henny-this and Henny-that.
Why did Malki have to spoil this celebration for me?
Clearing off the plates was slow work. Glass after fragile
glass, plate after plate at a snail's pace. In the middle,
when I came near my desk, I pulled out my personal diary and
added a few sad lines: my experiences from the last sheva
brochos.
The writing, which flowed from inside me, went on and on. I
felt a certain catharsis. And then, just when I had intended
to close the diary, in walked Malki. She swelled like a
balloon when she saw the surrounding mess.
"What's going on here?" she yelled at me. "What have you been
doing till now?" Her angry face registered amazement. I
pointed to the diary but Malki wasn't paying attention. "I'll
never understand you! Look at Henny: she's younger than you
and accomplishes twice as much as you around the house!" she
shot at me.
I alternated between blushing and blanching. This time there
was a good reason. My new sister-in-law was in the next room
and was hearing every word. Who knew what she'd think of me:
that I was a good-for-nothing? That I was lazy?
*
To my surprise, her good relationship with me didn't change,
despite the accusations. On the contrary, she sought
closeness with me and looked for opportunities to talk to
me.
One Shabbos afternoon when the young couple was visiting us,
Varda suggested that I accompany her to visit her
grandmother, who lived in our neighborhood. I eagerly
accepted her invitation.
On the way, she sat down with me on a street bench and said
appreciatively, "I am very impressed by your gentleness and
thoroughness. It's true that you're not the best choice to
clean or straighten up a room in a hurry, but you have
another strength: your sensitivity for the needs of others,
your love of chessed, your generosity and many other
fine qualities that supplement your true yiras
Shomayim." Varda spoke openly and I drew a wealth of
encouragement and strength from her words.
She continued, "I seems to me that not everyone understands
you and not everyone sees what you do as positive, but I see
in you a glittering diamond. People take this gem and try to
use it as a doorstop and don't understand why the door
closes. They think the jewel isn't good. They don't realize
that they're not using it for the purpose for which it was
designed."
There were tears of emotion in my eyes. What an appropriate
metaphor! Finally someone understood me! "You have tremendous
resources," my sister-in-law continued. "Hashem has given you
stores of strength, initiative and lots of good will. That
doesn't mean that you have to neglect your weak areas. You
have to try to fix and improve them, but they're not your
main calling. Every person has his own path to follow in life
and when one constantly comes up against a brick wall or a
locked door, it doesn't mean that they aren't successful. It
just means that this isn't their path. That he or she has a
different role to play."
"Like the diamond that can't stop the door because it has
another purpose," I added.
"Exactly!" Varda agreed. "You must continue discovering the
gifts that Hashem gave you. Even if you're not perfect in
certain areas, there are areas in which you're stronger and
it is there that you must invest your energies. Only then
will your powers be released for achievement and success!"
"But how can I prevent others' hostile reactions?" I asked
helplessly.
"That's your test, but don't invite it. You work slowly, they
get angry and you get hurt... A vicious cycle. But if you
know your place and know that you have to be a little more
energetic and practical, work on it and do it. Ongoing effort
raises the spirits and strengthens self esteem. If you
believe that you're a diamond just as you are, just the way
Hashem created you, then you'll feel uplifted and full of
energy."
"And I can do this?" I stammered.
"Yes! You can!" Varda encouraged me. "You know, I've been in
this family only a short time but I've already enjoyed the
benefits of your good-heartedness and come to appreciate your
fine character traits. You're lucky. One rarely meets such
true diamonds."
So that's it. My new sister-in-law gave me a roadmap and
signposts. Now what was left was to begin a life's journey to
reach the true and right goal, the one cut out especially for
me.
