My Misinterpretation of Healthy
I never considered myself to be a religious person. Still, somewhere in the depths of my soul a small part of me did want to believe in a higher power but spending time with clergymen was not one of my pastimes. Yet four months ago I had an encounter with my Rabbi that had a profound effect on me. Even more surprising however was the impact a major setback in his life would have on mine.
Last spring I became emotionally paralyzed in my life. I surprised myself by searching out a holy man for help, my Rabbi. Over the years my dealings with this man had never scratched beyond the surface. My Synagogue attendance record was not at an all time high and my life had always been too busy to make time for religion or community.
On the day I went looking for guidance and support, the fog inside my head was so debilitating that I am still amazed I ever even made it to the Rabbi’s office. Unannounced I waited over an hour for the man to arrive. Desperate for answers, I entrusted him to provide me with assistance and lead me down the right path.
The Rabbi listened attentively and dealt with me with the utmost kindness. I explained to him that over time my life had morphed into something I knew I didn’t want. I had become a stray balloon drifting in the sky and it was only a matter of time before I was going to explode into thin air.
The Rabbi and I talked for a very long time and his words helped me move forward. He reminded me that there were four people in this world, my husband and three children, who depended on my emotional health to facilitate theirs and it was only I who had the power to change my situation. He concluded our meeting on the note that God was testing my strength and with some patience I could overcome my life’s challenge. Little did we both know that within a few weeks this Rabbi would also be served a grandiose test of strength that would make my problems seem like a drop of water in a vast sea.
About two weeks after our visit, someone mentioned to me that he had overheard that my Rabbi had fallen gravely ill and was infirmed in hospital. He could not provide details.
The news hit me hard. Only a few weeks before the Rabbi had been full of energy and overnight a twist of fate had changed his life forever. I began dialing the phone searching out information on his condition. I quickly learnt that he had suffered a severe stroke in his brain stem cell and although his cognitive abilities were in tact he was suffering from “Locked In” syndrome. Completely paralyzed his only way of communication was through blinking. Disappointingly, I realized his potential recovery was unlikely. Prayer seemed to be his only hope.
At first I was slightly perplexed by my own urgent desire for this man to recover. The connection I had for him was strong. I quickly rationalized it. His own words resonated in my ears. Many people depended on him for support, his family, his congregation and now me.
The news around town was that the Rabbi’s attitude was extremely positive despite his condition. Apparently he felt that this experience was somehow going to elevate him to a better place. His faith remained intact despite his challenges. Through blinking he began composing inspiring sermons, the Synogogue e-mailed to congregants. According to him, emotional paralysis was far worse than physical paralysis. The Rabbi felt totally healthy inside his frozen body and therefore was certain he would be able to fight his affliction.
At first the Rabbi’s family requested privacy refusing to accept visitors. I sent a card and kept vigil. Six weeks after his stroke good news arrived regarding his condition. Some miniscule progression had allowed him to now mouth words and regain a little movement in his extremities. Although he could not eat and was still confined to a respirator, it seemed like more than anyone could have hoped for. When word spread that he was well enough to receive company, I knew I had to go. Astounded by how well and happy he appeared, I realized as I left that this was not a healthy woman visiting a sick man but perhaps the other way around.
Like a billboard flashing before my eyes, it became clear why I had felt such a strong bond with this man beyond the fact that he had been a source of reassurance. We were two people who had both been exposed to trauma. Although it was on a very different scale there were parallels that could be applied to anyone working to end their personal suffering. Both of us found ourselves on a journey in which we would need to relearn how to live our lives in very different ways.
Great spiritual leaders do lead by example and the Rabbi has definitely become one of my role models. Through his own patience he has been able defy the odds and overcome some of his challenges. Every week I am informed of another tiny improvement he has made, each one of them bringing him another millimeter closer to preaching on his pulpit.
I too feel a little happier every day, piecing my life back together inch by inch. Through his help and by observing how the Rabbi copes, I have been able to let go of my mother and the pain I have been nurturing all these years. My own struggle has brought me to a new place in my life, somewhere I never imagined I would go.
Attitude plays a great role in personal healing whether physical or spiritual. Positivity breeds more positivity. Although the doctor’s prognosis seemed hopeless, the Rabbi’s decision to continue to push forward with his recovery proved worthwhile. When I visited the Rabbi in his office before he fell ill, I remember he told me that I had the power to change my life. I suppose we often do.
Last spring I became emotionally paralyzed in my life. I surprised myself by searching out a holy man for help, my Rabbi. Over the years my dealings with this man had never scratched beyond the surface. My Synagogue attendance record was not at an all time high and my life had always been too busy to make time for religion or community.
On the day I went looking for guidance and support, the fog inside my head was so debilitating that I am still amazed I ever even made it to the Rabbi’s office. Unannounced I waited over an hour for the man to arrive. Desperate for answers, I entrusted him to provide me with assistance and lead me down the right path.
The Rabbi listened attentively and dealt with me with the utmost kindness. I explained to him that over time my life had morphed into something I knew I didn’t want. I had become a stray balloon drifting in the sky and it was only a matter of time before I was going to explode into thin air.
The Rabbi and I talked for a very long time and his words helped me move forward. He reminded me that there were four people in this world, my husband and three children, who depended on my emotional health to facilitate theirs and it was only I who had the power to change my situation. He concluded our meeting on the note that God was testing my strength and with some patience I could overcome my life’s challenge. Little did we both know that within a few weeks this Rabbi would also be served a grandiose test of strength that would make my problems seem like a drop of water in a vast sea.
About two weeks after our visit, someone mentioned to me that he had overheard that my Rabbi had fallen gravely ill and was infirmed in hospital. He could not provide details.
The news hit me hard. Only a few weeks before the Rabbi had been full of energy and overnight a twist of fate had changed his life forever. I began dialing the phone searching out information on his condition. I quickly learnt that he had suffered a severe stroke in his brain stem cell and although his cognitive abilities were in tact he was suffering from “Locked In” syndrome. Completely paralyzed his only way of communication was through blinking. Disappointingly, I realized his potential recovery was unlikely. Prayer seemed to be his only hope.
At first I was slightly perplexed by my own urgent desire for this man to recover. The connection I had for him was strong. I quickly rationalized it. His own words resonated in my ears. Many people depended on him for support, his family, his congregation and now me.
The news around town was that the Rabbi’s attitude was extremely positive despite his condition. Apparently he felt that this experience was somehow going to elevate him to a better place. His faith remained intact despite his challenges. Through blinking he began composing inspiring sermons, the Synogogue e-mailed to congregants. According to him, emotional paralysis was far worse than physical paralysis. The Rabbi felt totally healthy inside his frozen body and therefore was certain he would be able to fight his affliction.
At first the Rabbi’s family requested privacy refusing to accept visitors. I sent a card and kept vigil. Six weeks after his stroke good news arrived regarding his condition. Some miniscule progression had allowed him to now mouth words and regain a little movement in his extremities. Although he could not eat and was still confined to a respirator, it seemed like more than anyone could have hoped for. When word spread that he was well enough to receive company, I knew I had to go. Astounded by how well and happy he appeared, I realized as I left that this was not a healthy woman visiting a sick man but perhaps the other way around.
Like a billboard flashing before my eyes, it became clear why I had felt such a strong bond with this man beyond the fact that he had been a source of reassurance. We were two people who had both been exposed to trauma. Although it was on a very different scale there were parallels that could be applied to anyone working to end their personal suffering. Both of us found ourselves on a journey in which we would need to relearn how to live our lives in very different ways.
Great spiritual leaders do lead by example and the Rabbi has definitely become one of my role models. Through his own patience he has been able defy the odds and overcome some of his challenges. Every week I am informed of another tiny improvement he has made, each one of them bringing him another millimeter closer to preaching on his pulpit.
I too feel a little happier every day, piecing my life back together inch by inch. Through his help and by observing how the Rabbi copes, I have been able to let go of my mother and the pain I have been nurturing all these years. My own struggle has brought me to a new place in my life, somewhere I never imagined I would go.
Attitude plays a great role in personal healing whether physical or spiritual. Positivity breeds more positivity. Although the doctor’s prognosis seemed hopeless, the Rabbi’s decision to continue to push forward with his recovery proved worthwhile. When I visited the Rabbi in his office before he fell ill, I remember he told me that I had the power to change my life. I suppose we often do.
