It's Tuesday. Ruth day.
I dial her number and begin by complaining, "A neighbor that
I've helped several times told me today that I'm not very
kind! But I have helped her out! I was there for her
just last week when she needed someone to watch her kids at
the last minute!" I stop to catch my breath, tears filling my
eyes, "Now I'm going to feel embarrassed every time I see
her. I feel silly being so affected by comments from other
people but still, she's so unappreciative!"
Others might pause before answering such an outburst. Others
might try to dismiss the neighbor's comment or make me feel
better, but Ruth doesn't pause for a millisecond. "Life is a
mirror, Shira."
Why does this statement bother me so much? "Are you telling
me that I'm unappreciative?"
She repeats herself, "Life is a mirror."
I don't like that answer.
She continues, "That's why I'm not very sociable. Because
there are too many mirrors out there."
I smile. She's so witty, always finding a way to soften the
truths of life.
The conversation lurches forward to a book we both read, to a
letter she received from her brother, to my feelings about my
mother — sharing emotions with her that I don't share
with most others. She's caring and empathetic and at the end
of the conversation, I hang up feeling nurtured.
The week flies by with dentists, PTA meetings, shopping,
cooking, and laundry.
And it's Tuesday again.
Half the time that I call Ruth, I don't even say `Hello' when
she answers. This was one of those halves.
"If life is a mirror, that would mean that when I see the
shade of a tree, I have leafy shade too?" I felt triumphant
thinking up that one.
"Well," she answered, "you do have your shadow side, don't
you? Your darker side?"
"Yeah, it's called my yetzer hora and you are totally
exasperating!" I can practically hear her smile over the
phone.
Why does the mirror metaphor bother me so much? Because it is
true.
The next time a friend says something hurtful or a relative
snaps at me, I take an emotional step backwards. Have I been
speaking sharply lately? Have I been less-than-empathetic?
The statement that so bothered me becomes a stepping stone
for me — stepping in an upward motion.
My brother criticizes me. Instead of defending myself with
lots of excuses, I humbly admit the mistake and apologize.
He's speechless.
Those around me begin to see and feel the difference.
I get together with a few friends, including Ruth, for my
mother's yahrtzeit. We write about loss. I write and I
cry. And it's okay.
When we're done writing, we share. Complimenting as well as
critiquing each other's work. And that's alright too.
The feeling of 'okayness' within me is palpable. I wish that
I had known 'then' what I know now, since I used to feel so
incredibly self-conscious, so insecure, so filled with self-
doubt but — that's okay too. Life is exactly what
Hashem wants it to be for each one of us. And we're given the
opportunities to grow when we're capable of growth.
It's Tuesday. Ruth and I speak for a while and then she makes
another statement that I'm not anticipating: "You've become
so much more solid, Shira."
Me? Solid? I'm speechless.
"Don't tell me that compliments are part of the mirror
too!"
Ruth tells me, "I once had a Rebbetzin that I admired so very
much. I went to every class that she gave and I would meet
with her privately as well. One time, my adoration came
tumbling out and she looked at me softly and asked, `Are you
willing to own all the qualities that you value so highly in
me?' I shook my head, no. I should have all of her wonderful
qualities? But then again, if life is a mirror, it reflects
the good as well as the not-so-good.
"I suppose I've had an awful lot of mirrors in my life.
Sometimes I feel that I'm in a carnival with a room of
distorted mirrors, but after a while, I realize that I'm
causing the distortions; I'm the one who stepped into the
room."
I think about what she's telling me. "So, what if someone's
just had a bad day and they lash out at me? That's not being
a mirror of who I am."
"The mirror part is how you take that lashing out at you.
Hashem sends us what He wants us to see, to learn from, which
often means digging deeper into ourselves and to, yes, see
that aspect of ourselves and fix it."
The next time I accidentally complain and Ruth answers her
standard, "Life is a mirror, Shira," it no longer bothers me.
It simply reminds me that it's time for me to grow.
