The Dream

I woke up with a start.  It was the night of Yom HaDin only 6 months ago. The dream was very vivid.  Someone said to me, there’s a tear on your cheek and it’s bleeding. I could feel something wet on my cheek, and then I woke up.  It was still dark outside and I drifted off to sleep with a vague feeling of anxiety.  Again the same dream, there’s a tear on your cheek, and it’s bleeding. I woke up for the second time; this time it was getting light outside. The first day of Rosh Hashanah.
 
I can’t tell you that I have discovered a profound meaning for this dream because I haven’t.  I tried asking, but the only response I had from a well respected rabbi was to make absolutely sure I’d heard birkat haKohen  – the priestly blessing – and, if not, to go to the nearest Sefardi synagogue asap because they say it every day, otherwise not to worry about it. Fortunately I had heard birkat haKohen and strangely enough I wasn’t actually concerned for myself but rather it seemed to me that I had been sent a message; I just didn’t know what it meant. So as this dream landed in my mental letterbox and we are supposed to look for messages contained in the events of our lives, I tried a bit of analysis [not the psychological sort], trying to recall anything I’d ever learnt in Torah about tears and blood which wasn’t a lot.  The only thing I came up with was tears relating to lack of clarity and blood/red related to din/judgement.  Since the rav concerned, who knows a thing or two, told me not to worry, I decided to take his sagely advise and put it out of my mind…sort of.
 
A month later my mother got an unexpected medical diagnosis. The bad news was it was one of those diagnoses, but the good news was they whipped the tumor out in time and there was nothing else to do but keep a check on it.  Again, the rav concerned – a doctor as well – told me not to worry about it, it’s one of those slow growing cancers.
 
Exactly 4 weeks later, my mother fell on the bus and had to have a hip replacement. It all went amazingly well, baruch Hashem.  Whilst in the hospital she developed a urinary tract infection, had some antibiotics and went home to recuperate.
 
And that’s where it all started to go downhill.  The bladders symptoms came back in a most extreme manner. More antibiotics, nothing worked. Tests came back negative. So I was on the phone to the hospital, to the specialist oncology nurse, was there anything to be concerned about?  Don’t worry, it will settle down.  OK, except that by week 6, I was getting a bit irritated with being told it would settle down. Then I started noticing a pattern.  Every time I tried to make hishtadlus [effort] on my mother’s behalf, I never seemed to get anywhere.  There always seemed to be a block, like Someone was moving the goalposts.  Even my mother thought it odd. I could relate a whole catalogue of events that took place over a period of 4 months and we seemed to be coming up against dead ends for no apparent reason. The situation should have been sorted but wasn’t.
 
Of course, I’d be lying if I said that my dream wasn’t lurking in the background of my mind.
 
At some point I realized that although this was all from Hashem, I found myself being drawn into the natural world of medicine and medics and was finding it difficult to straddle the path between making effort for my mother, which I was obligated in, and not allowing myself to forget Who in fact was sending the suffering …and I was a bit worried. It was a lot to be coping with.
 
So I put it to my mother that we should do a pidyon  nefesh.  I didn’t actually explain it to her in detail, that this could mitigate a harsh decree, but just said it was a good idea to give tzedakah to a rabbi who would pray on her behalf. She agreed – not a small miracle in itself. So off went the donation to Chut Shel Chesed. I suppose I was expecting something miraculous to happen the day after; of course, it didn’t.  So a couple more weeks went by, my mother slowly becoming more incapacitated and distressed and wondering whether she would ever be normal again.  So I decided to change the mezuzahs without her consent – which nearly started World War III.  After 3 months she had her oncology check up; the doctor informed us that it looked OK, but there seemed to be a lot of scarring and maybe that was what was causing the symptoms…and, she said more to me with one of those concerned looks, I’m a bit suspicious that maybe there’s still a bit of tumor there.  So we waited for another op, and we waited, more unusual delays, and eventually after another 2 months my mother eventually had her op. 
 
The surgeon told her afterwards that indeed he had been looking for tumors, but what he actually found was… two bladder stones, which he removed. Overnight, the symptoms disappeared.  Pidyon hanefesh?  I believe so.
 
You may read this and think, that’s great but so what?  But I will tell you I saw Hashem’s hand all the way through this ordeal. Yes, in the seemingly negative events, I experienced yad Hashem (the hand of Hashem). I think that’s what kept me going because I realized that this was what Hashem wanted and no amount of effort was going to change it. My mother had to suffer for a period of time and that was that.
 
I saw that Hashem tests us in exactly the areas we don’t want to be tested.  I can remember saying to Hashem some time ago that I could really not cope with looking after two parents, and that being a caregiver for my father was quite enough, thank You.  Hashem obviously thought differently; let’s try it, Yael, and see what happens.
 
I learnt how important it is not to utter negative statements, make negative prognoses, how our words impact on our environment and can build or destroy, literally.
 
Relatives/friends may have seen teva (nature) at work.  Why didn’t the doctors do this or that?  What took them so long?  What about a second opinion?  Yael, this must be so hard for you.  Yael, why don’t you have a good cry [because surely you must be falling apart]?  What they didn’t understand was that amidst all the intensity of looking after her, I discovered yishuv hadaat (a settled mind). For the most part, my mind was quite settled, focused on what I had to do. 
 
I discovered through hitbodedut that I could insulate myself from most of the potential anxiety and gloominess of the situation; that by speaking to Hashem and praying on my mother’s behalf, Hashem just took any fear away from me.  And consequently, I discovered that it is absolutely possible to decide to be happy simply because that is Hashem’s Will, that on occasions when I obviously did feel miserable and felt the tentacles of anxiety closing in, I could just say to Hashem, this is not how You want me to be and so I will be happy for You, Hashem.  The proof of this is that my mother on several occasions commented on how happy I always seemed to be when she felt she was such a burden to me.  This isn’t just happy clappy stuff. I believe that anyone, if they truly commit to this path, will achieve inner peace.  I don’t know what the future holds, how I will withstand future tests, who does know these things? After all, we pray not to have ordeals. All I know is what I’ve achieved now, with Hashem’s help.
 
As for the dream, I may have to wait for Mashiach to explain it.