There’s something spectacular for me about the first blooms of spring. It’s always a favorite season of mine because of its magical burst of buds on the trees as they come to life — and it’s my daughter Elizabeth’s birthday.
Since she was my second child and Lara had been delivered by Caesarian section I was told all my children would be delivered the same way. So Elizabeth’s birth was planned and I went into the hospital the night before. I was feeling terrific, as I had with all my pregnancies, and my mom had bought me a gorgeous hot pink pegnoir. The coat featured a luscious collar of pink marabou feathers. As I walked around the delivery floor with my bulging belly I became a sensation. All the interns and residents appeared at my door. No one had seen anything like me! After all, most women come into the delivery rooms in a state of anxiety and pain.
Like clockwork Elizabeth was delivered the next morning, an energetic redhead born as beautiful as a doll without a mark because of the C section.
In those years women stayed in the hospital for eight days to recover from the surgery. When I took Elizabeth home all the trees were blooming with what I call “virgin green,” the beginning burst of the buds before they get mature and become the deep, rich color we enjoy for months. So for me the greatest beauty is in early spring when my beloved daughter was born!
Spring is also an emotional time, as somehow I think the earth’s rebirth has a draw on my emotions. Recently I was watching a detective show that Stu and I both loved to watch together. We’d sit In the bedroom, he in his chair and me on the bed reading or typing on my iPad. As the episode drew to an end, the nostalgic music played and it just struck me like lightning. I just sobbed and sobbed. It’s strange how something as simple as a song can have that power.
But the next morning brought a new day, and with it the pitter patter of my little grandchildren coming into my room calling “grandma, grandma!” How delicious they are, my little treasures. I decided to take them that morning to a local garden center to buy flowers and vegetables for planting in our garden. I wanted to surround myself with the bursting colors of spring, and with their help I did!
Life was beginning again . . .
On Sunday I had the unique experience of writing a letter in my synagogue’s new Torah, which is being inscribed by our members. The scribe, Rabbi Moshe Druin, had come from Florida to help us experience what is considered the Mitzvah 613.
As the rabbi explained it, the power of taking the quill in my hand to write a letter in the Torah is to take action. It represents a powerful mitzvah, which means good deed.
The rabbi gave us as an example the husband who spends an hour telling his wife how much he loves her. During his long list of kudos she asks him for a glass of water. But he says he’s too busy telling her how much he loves her. No water, her need is left unmet.
The basic tenet taught is that words mean little, it’s the act that has real meaning. And so for me that day, being there was more meaningful by taking action, not just talking about it. So wise, so true!
My stepchildren Jim and Mimi Broner joined me at the ceremony.