Subtle sweetness in the process

This past friday, I woke with a full 7 hours of sleep (not bad for a mom with a new born who keeps vampires hours).   Friday morning offered promise; kids all making it on the bus without a lunch misplaced, challah dough rising, and enough sleep to power my brain through the errands any mom faces on a daily basis.

All-in-all Friday was an obedient pet...who knew Fluffy could become a drewling Kugo so quickly.

Before launching full throttle into a line up of to-do's, I penned the words  "Subtle  sweetness in the process".  I figured with so much sleep for the first time in almost 3 months, I was ready to get my blog on.  I wasn't sure what I had wrote but told myself at the time it had everything to do with the ease of the morning.

I happened to be loading my car full of groceries when I got a call from David (my husband).  My voice oozed cheer, after all I was one of those people who slept through the night!!!   I was glowing!  And as David spoke my glow quickly became gloom.  His voice didn't sound right.  An elderly patient had almost fallen and he went to catch her and he thought his bicep tore...he heard a pop.  Nothing in his voice sounded hopeful.  David, the unstoppable force, the rock of Gibraltar to myself and my kids, the man who can tackle anything and always come out shining, the guy that legends are made from (yes, I'm that much a fan of my husband when I'm not ready to kill him for leaving a trail of sweaty running clothes to our bed);  had a hint of horror in his typically sweet tone.

Crisis Jess stepped in; I hadn't seen her since 9/11 and before I could blink we were in an orthopedic surgeons office.  Then an MRI facility in hackensack.  Then emailing, texting, and forming every damn plan I could think of to keep his business and our family running.  All the while chanting
, "we will get through this". This all sounds very dramatic, and it is, because David is a physical therapist with his own clinic that needs that arm to treat his patients.  My family of 4 children rely on that arm.  And every indication, even prior to the MRI, was he tore the bicep from the bone and needed surgery.  (which is the verdict from the MRI reports now)

After our hours of drs and an MRI, I headed home in a complete fog determined to make my challah before Shabbat.  I lifted the dough out of the bowl and for the first time I  felt like chucking it across the kitchen, where was the subtle sweetness in the process?????  My early morning challah dough epiphany that was so frigin insightful I had to write down.

Then it hit me...It all made sense but I hated the damn words, I hated the damn process.  Every day, hour, minute, second a choice is made that can easily alter us.  What may seem to break us, Gd willing, will be what makes us.  It all comes down to what we choose to make out of the obstacles thrown our way.  Do we go belly up? Scream bloody murder? Or face it head on with the kind of confidence in Gd only our 4 fathers could muster up in chapters 1-5 in the Torah.

As David and I face this new twist in the plot, our heads are high, our fists are up, and we're ready to go 10 more rounds to beat the ever loving crap out of this new obstacle.  There's hope on the horizon. The subtle sweetness in the process is the victory of the fight.

 "shake off the dust and arise". (to quote king David and a psalm I just can't remember the exact number of)

Now to actually buy into every last word I wrote and throw on a smile when I just don't feel like it.