Before the very first Shabbat after my divorce that my son Daniel and I spent at our home in Woodmere, I confess to being consumed with trepidation: who was my son going to stay with in shul? I was happy to keep him with me as he was only three years old then, but looking ahead, I knew that he needed to acclimate to the men’s section.
You cannot imagine the relief that washed over me as, from the moment we entered the lobby of the Young Israel of Woodmere, I was warmly greeted by many familiar faces who offered to look after Daniel during davening. And much to my delight, after shul, someone I had never met before approached me and arranged for a play date that afternoon for our children. These gestures of kindness multiplied as the weeks went by, and in hindsight I recall that it took a full two years before we finally had a meal at our own home over Shabbat; the invitations just kept pouring in and to this day they have not stopped.
Another indelible memory is of our first Simhat Torah at the Woodmere congregation of Aish Kodesh. On seeing Daniel alone in the men’s section, Rabbi Weinberger, the rabbi of the synagogue, immediately beckoned him into the circle and later danced with Daniel on his shoulders. You have never seen a happier child, and therefore, you have never seen a happier mother.
I smile now when I think back to that first Shabbat and first Simhat Torah 19 years ago, and my smile broadens when I review all that has happened during the nearly two decades that I have lived alone with my son within this Orthodox Jewish community.
“…a lot has to do with those who surround you…”
The difficulties of my situation were compounded because I was an agunah for nearly 17 years. (Smile – I am using the past tense “was”!) My reason for recounting this is not to evoke sympathy, but rather to give encouragement to any woman who thinks her situation will never improve and to once again laud those within my community who offered kindness, support, friendship, and love. Rather than feel like a pariah, I feel truly blessed at having made friendships that have endured and will endure the test of time and at having witnessed firsthand the meaning of hesed.
Although I will be the first to admit that it has not always been smooth sailing and that I did experience some difficult situations, I was able to weather the storms with the love of an amazing family (with a special mention to my Mom z’’l) and very caring friends who gave and gave and continue to give.
All too often, we hear about the novelty wearing off; we start off with great enthusiasm about something, but over time, it becomes harder and harder to muster the level of commitment that we gave at the onset. In some ways I was a novelty 19 years ago – a divorced woman moving into a neighborhood where divorces were not so common – but I can honestly say that all those who befriended me at the onset are still there for me now, and over time this wonderful circle of friends has vastly expanded, evolved, and matured. The changes that took place over the years can be seen in all their poignancy when I think back on the roles that my son and his friends played on Shabbat when Daniel was in elementary school versus what takes place in our home today, when my 22-year-old comes home for Shabbat from his dorm at Yeshiva University (YU).
It has been many, many years since I have had to worry about play dates, escorting Daniel to shul (when he was too young to walk alone), and anxiously filling Shabbat afternoons for my son. As a single parent, I knew that when my son was very young, all the teachings in the home fell solely upon my shoulders so I strove to always set a proper example and emphasize the importance of Shabbat. The older he got, the more he was able to teach me, and in fact we would often study the laws of Shabbat together. Suddenly, as opposed to my reminding him when he was little not to play the piano on Shabbat, he was now teaching me about the correct way to warm up food on the blech.
Indeed, the tables have turned. Now, rather than merely being the recipient of Shabbat invitations, Daniel has taken on the role of host, and more often than not, when he comes home for Shabbat he brings several of his friends from YU. He has even hosted Shabbatons for some of the students from his former high school where he now teaches regularly on Friday mornings.
The empty nest syndrome is not new to me. Daniel spent two years in Israel after he graduated high school and has lived at the YU dorm for the past two and a half years. I now have my “regulars” – the closest of friends with whom I spend Shabbat meals on those weeks when Daniel does not come home, and I have come to truly grasp the concept of Shabbat being a day of rest.
Over the years, I have segued from the young divorced mom who spent nearly every Shabbat as a guest at someone else’s house to someone who, along with my son, now hosts yeshiva boys on those weekends Daniel comes home and who, when not in the company of friends, is the independent woman who spends an occasional Shabbat relaxing by myself and enjoying the serenity of a day of rest.
Although I am well aware that not everyone may have had as easy a time as I have had, I believe a lot has to do with those who surround you and those with whom you surround yourself. I have truly been fortunate to reside in a community that has so many thoughtful and generous members.