My name is Mor. As in, “Can I have some more?” but without the “e.”
I was born in Israel and grew up in Australia. I spent most of my youth training as a figure skater in an ice rink. I also spent a lot of my youth becoming observant. Those two didn’t really go hand in hand. Beyond the ice rink, there was the beach, parties, law school, concerts, friends and family. All scenarios where muttering the line “Oh, I don’t hug the opposite gender,” felt super awkward.
There were a lot of tears, some disappointment, much friction, but I am here to tell the tale. My favorite quote is “life doesn’t always turn out how you plan, sometimes it turns out better.”
I spent most of my childhood in an ice rink and I loved every minute of it. Today my body still aches from the strains that were placed on it and my ego hasn’t fully recovered from never becoming the best, but I don’t regret one moment. Even if I did, I wouldn’t dare voice it publicly where my parents who spent their every waking breath and dollar on the sport could see. The funny thing about figure skating is that it can be the most beautiful sport to watch, and possibly the most dramatic behind the scenes. “That girl is your enemy” I remember my coach whispering in my ear, just moments after my competitor invited me on her parent’s yacht for the weekend.
In between trying to become a world class figure skater, I was also becoming a religious Jew. I envisaged one of those huge families with perfectly dressed matching children, glorious Shabbat meals and glamorous wigs. Fast forward a few realities, and getting kids dressed, let alone matching is a lot harder than it seems. Gourmet Shabbat meals actually require a lot of hard work and surprisingly need to be cleaned up upon completion. The beauty of a wig is only matched by the pain it derives as well as the deficit it causes in your bank account. It took a while, but I learned that cementing my beliefs in the One Above, was really the only way to truly live the life I had dreamed of.
In one of those moments when you’re sure G-d is punishing you I found myself leaving Sydney, the most beautiful city in the world, to reside in what I was convinced was its polar opposite – Pittsburgh. If the change of scenery from gorgeous beaches and brand new white box homes wasn’t enough, this happened to be one of the coldest winters the city had ever seen. After months of hibernating, I finally ventured out to discover some of the nicest, most genuine people I have ever met.
Growing up in a sport where being perfect is just the first step in a long line of feats to become the best it’s hard not to get caught up in the contest that is life. But I learned that success is not measured by the letters after your name, the medals around your neck, or the dollars in your bank. Even though those are all great things that probably required a lot of hard work (or not). It is the person you are and the type of people you are bringing into this world, it’s the conversations we have and the relationships we build.
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I used to think ice-skating competitions were the scariest thing in the world. My legs would quiver while I waited for my name to be called. As I stepped on the ice my heart beat beyond fast. It made its way up my throat, leaving that horrible feeling where you struggle to swallow and it feels as if there’s no oxygen around. I still get that feeling every time I watch a tournament.
But neither that, nor anything else, compared to the fear I felt when my baby underwent surgery. This involved general anesthesia and a large incision close to her brow. Thank G-d, everything went smoothly and she was back to herself in no time. But what preceded it was sheer agony.
I’m pretty dramatic in general. However, when it comes to the important things in life, I usually manage to keep it together. Buying a house, getting married, even having a baby. Through all it, I kept my cool. But Not Today.
The doctors seemed a little taken aback when I abruptly stopped the process of them wheeling her in and pleaded, “Is this REALLY necessary?” Perhaps some parents mask their hysteria better than others. A mother seeing her child struggle is horrible. Especially when the child has no idea why today is not just any regular day filled with throwing cheerios on the floor and unrolling the paper towels.
While parents can fathom the rationale behind it all, their bodies might not follow suit. At least that’s what happened to me. We had two options: Sit in the waiting room and watch The Price is Right, or sit in the waiting and pray. Although watching contestants blindly spend money that isn’t theirs can be quite distracting, I’m glad we chose the latter. We also tried to take on new good deeds. Had G-d approached me and requested I never listen to another Chainsmokers song again, I would have gladly obliged.
The procedure went smoothly and within hours my daughter was running around the house, while everyone ran circles around her. I, on the other hand had to lie down.
Is this how G-d feels when he puts us through hardship? Does He do it unwillingly, with His eyes half closed, knowing it’s for the best, but still struggling to watch us actually go through it? Is it as painful for Him as it is for us? Does He really think it through?
The greater question might be why little kids need to face hardship in the first place. But that’s already way out of my pay grade. Besides this is not an article about fear. It’s an article about love. And how that love can burn so strong it sometimes pushes us to act out of fear. To doubt the medical advice given by professionals in a single moment of folly. To lose patience when teaching our kids to read because we’re scared they won’t get it. To shout when they near the hot water or play by the top of the stairs. To yearn to keep them home until they’re 25.
At some point, though, after the parenting books have been read, the phone put down and the Google tabs closed, comes the humbling feeling that you’ve done all you can. Now it’s up to the One Above.