Dear Readers,
We would like to present, in installments, a short but very
worthwhile book by SARA GLASER, known to a wide public as the
initiator of the Lifesaver's Guide — the book and the
practical step-by-step lecture series — to more
efficient housekeeping and living, which has the Approbation
of HaRav Hagon R' Chaim Pinchos Sheinberg shlita and
lbch'l Rabbi Nachman Bulman zt'l. Highly
recommended, as well as the Hebrew version, Chochmas
Noshim, with haskomos from Rov and Rebbetzin Weber
of Neve Yaakov and the Belzer Rebbetzin.
We hope you find this autobiography, making its debut in
YATED, interesting and inspirational.
CHAPTER TWO
GIVING AND TAKING
Parenting
I find that the more I invest of myself, the richer my life
is, and I know of no other role in life that provides that
opportunity more than being a mother. The love, the giving,
and the joy, are endless. The difficulties and pain
experienced along the way are brushed aside when a smile,
hug, kiss, or "I love you Mom" is received.
I wanted a large family but Hashem decided differently. I had
two sons, many years apart. It seemed like I was raising an
only child, twice.
During his freshman year at college, my older son, Steve,
joined the Navy and for a year served in Vietnam, It was
probably one of the longest, hardest years of our lives. In
addition to daytime thoughts, fears and concerns, not once
was I able to sleep peacefully through the night. Nightmares
were frequent. Many times I would suddenly awaken saying his
name, thinking I heard him calling me.
I constantly lived with the fear that he would not return
alive, or that he would come back a paraplegic. In addition,
the media was always informing the American public of the
emotional and psychological harm this particular war had on
the men coming home. Although I was not religious at the
time, I prayed fervently that G-d spare him, and bring him
home alive and well. I frequently visited my mother's grave
asking her to beg Him to do the same.
One reason I feared he would not return, or that he might
come back seriously wounded, was because of his consistent
concern for, and kindness to others, even at his own expense.
This was evident when he was just two years old! He did
something at that age, over and over again, that astounded me
then, and even now.
His grandfather would often give him some change with which
to buy himself candy. He would walk to the corner candy store
and give the owner the money and then choose what he wanted.
The owner would let him know when the amount of candy equaled
the money given him. He would return holding the brown paper
bag filled with sweets.
By then a number of children from the neighborhood, knowing
he was bringing candy, would stand around waiting for him.
Instead of giving some to each child, Steven would hand each
one the bag and let them help themselves. When everyone had
taken some, then and then only, would he eat what was left.
Sometimes he would go back to Grandpa and ask for more money
in order to buy something for himself, because the bag was
returned empty. In spite of this, he never changed the way in
which he chose to share what he had.
While still in high school he was a volunteer fireman, and at
another time a volunteer medical attendant in ambulances
transporting ill patients to hospitals.
Thank G-d, my prayers were answered. When his year of duty in
Vietnam was over, he was sent back to the States to finish
his tour of duty. Louis shared our concern for his older
brother's welfare. Being so much older than he, Louis looked
upon Steve not only as his brother, but as an uncle and
sometimes surrogate father who catered to his desires. He
kept his classmates informed about Steve's experiences, such
as when he was wounded and hospitalized three different
times! As a result, Louis' class became emotionally involved
and concerned as well about Steven's welfare. They even made
him a welcome home party upon his return.
While unpacking his things after coming home, a large card
fell on the floor. I asked him if I could read it. He nodded
yes. It was a card from the marines in the troop to which he
had been assigned for the past year. My son was a hospital
corpsman in the navy. Since the marines don't have medics
(like the army), or hospital corpsman (like the navy), the
latter provides the marines with these needed personnel.
It was a very over-sized, good-bye card with a long note that
each marine signed. They reminded him of the many times he
walked point (in front of the others) when, as a hospital
corpsman, he was supposed to walk in the rear, usually a much
safer position.
They reminded him how he would often cover them with his own
blanket at night, and how he would endanger his own life to
go to them during gunfire, which he was not suppose to do,
when they called out "corpsman" (meaning they were wounded
and needed help). They lauded his courage and bravery. He was
nominated for the Silver Star.
Most of the marines in his troop wrote that he was the first
Jew they had ever known and they felt proud and fortunate to
have him assigned to them for the year. They wished him well
and wrote that no one could replace him. The tears welled up
in my eyes. He never told us about this. His behavior was a
true Kiddush Hashem!
In December, 1997, a week before his forty-sixth birthday,
his soul returned to Hashem. I cannot think of anything that
can possibly compare to the pain of losing one's child. I
wonder how parents without emunah and bitachon
survive. My heart goes out to all of them.
I felt so fortunate that this happened when I was Torah
observant. I had time to become aware of and strengthen my
love and fear, and trust, of our Creator. I was better able
to accept what happened.
I keep learning that suffering and sacrifice are often
essential ingredients in the opportunities Hashem gives me in
order to grow spiritually. It is especially at these times,
regardless of whether or not they are comprehensible,
convenient, painful, or difficult — spiritually,
physically, emotionally, financially, and or intellectually,
that Hashem is testing how much I truly trust Him. It is a
long, arduous road or ladder to climb, but when I am
successful in passing one of His tests, the rewards are truly
great! The inner peace and contentment that comes from
knowing that whatever happens in my life is for my best makes
me feel even closer to the A-mighty, my very best Friend.
Believing this, and that my son's soul is in a better place,
and closer to Hashem, sustained me when he passed away, in
spite of the intense pain, and continues providing me with
support on the loss of which I am always conscious.
My mother, may she rest in peace, would often say that the
most important thing a person can grow up to be is a
'mensch," (a kind, decent, and honest person). I couldn't
agree with her more. I tried to express this feeling when I
wrote the following two poems for my beloved sons in 1976.
WHAT CAN I LEAVE YOU?
What can I leave you when I am gone, my sons
What can I leave you when I am gone?
A house in the country
A jewel or two
Money in the bank
Stocks and bonds a few
You're welcome to it all
Whatever my material wealth
Keep it or give it away
Use it in good health
But I want to leave you more important things
Things that last and last
My love for you is constant, deep and true
Remember when you think of me
That this, I left you too
And if my love, along with my behavior
Helped you to develop self-discipline and self-esteem
Honesty and integrity
Compassion for others
And a strong sense of responsibility
I will be content, my sons
For then you will possess
Some of the world's richest treasures
HOW DO I MEASURE YOU?
How do I measure you?
By feet and inches?
By pounds?
By agility and grace?
By the attractiveness of your face?
No, I measure you by none of these things
Then how do you measure me?
By my position in society?
By my wealth?
By the power I exert?
No, I measure you by how you relate to humanity
Are you kind and gentle?
Do you share with others?
Not just your possessions
But more important
Your time, your emotions
Your creativity and your sweat
Do you feel for others?
Their pain
Their joy
Their fear
Are you honest with yourself, and others?
Can you manage to smile or laugh amidst your tears?
Do you persevere when things get difficult?
Do you, when necessary, put others' needs before your own?
But most important
I measure myself, and you
By the respect and dignity
With which we treat ourselves
And all humanity
[Chapter Two will be continued]
