Sometimes, you just have to move on and trust that everything Hashem does is for the good.
I lost some stuff in the move that was really important to me. Irreplaceable stuff. Not the least of which, almost my entire collection of jewelry. There’s still a chance that I will get it back, but I don’t know what those chances are, and I’m trying to stay positive, but with every passing day it seems less and less hopeful.
Part of me knows that Hashem wants me to have complete trust that my things will be returned to me. But at the same time, I wonder whether I should just let go and start coping with the fact that I will never again see these things that are so dear to me. And just try to learn something from this experience.
I keep telling myself, as frustrating as it is to lose stuff, at the end of the day, it’s stuff. Thank G-d, I have all of the things that matter in life– amazing family and friends, health, sustenance, an incredible, loving husband, G-d willing a baby on the way soon. When I get into a rut thinking about my lost stuff, I just tell myself over and over again how fortunate I am to have the important “non-stuff” in life.
How many people can say they have all of that? I’m truly blessed.
But it still hurts. It’s still frustrating. It still sucks. And it’s tempting to obsess over things I really have no control over. But so pointless. There are more important things to think about, more productive ways to use my time and brain-power.
Yet I wonder about that feeling I’ve been having about losing my stuff, that sick, hollow feeling, lingering just beneath the surface, teetering between helpless and hopeful. Why don’t I feel this feeling about more important “non-stuff” in life? Why don’t I feel that feeling at the same level of intensity for other people, my fellow Jews, friends going through a really tough time–much, much worse than losing stuff. Why don’t I feel that hollow feeling about the fact that Moshiach is not here yet?
It makes me feel a bit silly, a bit petty.
It’s a wake-up call. A shofar blast.
As it is Elul, and Rosh Hashana is approaching, I’m thinking a lot about the meaning of teshuvah. Returning. Returning to God. Not to humanize Him, G-d forbid, but… If I feel this way about some lost stuff, how does Hashem feel about all of the precious souls that are lost to Him, that are wandering around without understanding how much G-d wants them, needs them, how important they are to Him? It’s like that hollow, sick, longing feeling, that feeling of unrequited love, times infinity.
Because if G-d is infinitely powerful, infinitely knowing, and infinitely wise, then He is also infinitely vulnerable.
Maybe this is G-d giving me a teeny, tiny glimpse, a little alarm clock, waking me up to that feeling that He feels. For me and for all of His people.
He wants us back. He wants us to come home.