Faigy Neumann

Spring is my favorite season.

I love the fact that there’s color blooming all around me, that there are little buds peeking out on the branches of the trees and bushes, that things are alive! When I’m out driving, I can’t help but look around and marvel at all the beautiful blossoming trees and plants that were so lifelessly bare during the winter and are now starting to show their true colors (thanks to the neck-to-neck constant traffic, I’m lucky enough to get a long close look!).

The whole world seems to be blossoming, singing and chirping, and happily climbing out from under their dark and cold wintery blankets.

Even my itchy red eyes and the fact that I use up around a box of tissues a day due to seasonal allergies caused by all the pollen outdoors doesn’t take away from my fascination and excitement of this time of year.

All the noticing I’m doing reminds me of something so basic that’s often forgotten or glossed over even though it’s such a vital point to remember—the fact that none of this growth happened overnight. There was a lot of preparation and effort going on underground when the trees were void of their greenery and the grass was buried under the snow. Even though we couldn’t see it, the whole long, dreary winter was a prerequisite for this glorious spring revival. In order to have the beautiful flowers and shrubbery I’m now thoroughly enjoying, we needed to first have those short, cold days in January (when all I wanted to do was stay in a sweater and cozy slippers), and only then was spring able to arrive in all its gorgeous glory.

This concept is true in all areas of life, be it at any location or in any situation that requires effort on our part. It’s a process to progress from point A to point B. And many times, it’s a painstaking process that requires lots of patience and endurance. Sometimes, we’re so stuck in the heat of the moment when experiencing hardships and pain that we forget we’re working toward a goal, that we’re pushing ourselves for a purpose, and that all this sweat and toil is what is enabling us to succeed at reaching our goal.

This brings to mind an incident I experienced one afternoon. I was taking care of my rambunctious toddler, when she opened her mouth, and surprise—the two cutest little teeth were sticking out of her gums! So that explained the constant midnight awakenings and never-ending ear infections the past few weeks!

It was so reassuring to me when I realized the reason behind the recent aches and pains—even just that there was a reason behind them. During the moments of agony and lack of sleep (for me and for her), I completely forgot that there may be something beneficial—like teeth!—coming out from all this hardship. I guess sleep deprivation can do that to me; I mean, shouldn’t it have been obvious that she’s teething?

It would be prudent to remind myself of all those lessons I was taught back when I was in school (my kids always ask me if I lived in the olden days, so I guess it must have been a while ago) that the more exertion I put into a project, the more thrilling and rewarding the feeling of satisfaction will be when I reach my goal.

In other words: no pain, no gain.

Take Pesach, for example, from which we’re all still adjusting back to our regular routines. Lots and lots of time, effort, energy, and elbow grease went into this magnificent Yom Tov (I’m sure I don’t need to remind anyone!), and the result was a most beautiful Pesach. I would imagine that I’m not the only Yiddishe mother who, besides breathing a sigh of relief (the first in a really long time), actually sheps true nachas when the beautiful Seder table is set, crowned with the sparkling ke’arah at the head. There’s just no word that can describe that feeling of accomplishment of having reached the top of your mountain that at one point seemed insurmountable, which was only possible to achieve after an investment of many weeks, days, nights, and hours of work.

***

As a busy mommy of a cute bunch of little girls baruch Hashem, I’m grateful to be reminded of the concept of patience—that it takes time for things to sprout, especially the things that are most worthwhile. Truthfully, it’s so easy for me to forget all this in the hecticness of the everyday jobs and tasks I’m constantly doing. It’s so easy for me to get stuck in the moment and stress Why can’t they ever listen to me? Will they ever be a help? and Oh my goodness, what will be with them when they grow up? How will they ever turn out to be caring or giving if this is the way they’re acting now?

Like the times I call and call their name to come help me with something, and there’s no response, but I know it can’t be their hearing that’s the culprit, because they just begged me for ice cream after hearing the truck down the block.

Or when the name calling and sibling rivalry with the accompanying bickering seems to have no reprieve and my mind starts going down the road of Will they ever get along and love each other as true sisters do, despite their differences?

Or when their briefcases are banged down on the floor instead of being placed on the hooks (where they belong), after I calmly ask them day after day to hang it up right when they walk in. I sometimes catch myself wondering and worrying along the lines of Will they ever learn to be responsible and take care of their things or will they always remain slobs and leave things around?

All these incidents can cause me stress if I think about the immediate action and its accompanying result. But if I try and keep in mind this lesson from the beautiful spring season: that things, and people too, take a long— very long—time to grow. And we don’t get to see the results right away. Just like all those gorgeous blooms outdoors needed the rain, snow, and cold weather to provide them with nutrients so they could grow into the beautiful greenery they are today, so too my dear children will become the beautiful, mature girls I hope and daven for. Just not yet.

I can’t see the results of all my hard efforts bearing fruit yet, but I know that one day I’ll look back and shep much well-deserved nachas from all the hard work I put in during these years.

In the meantime, I’ll try to remember this lesson and focus on the positive steps and actions they do take, even if they are tiny. I’ll celebrate all their small victories and try to help them weed out their negative traits, and ultimately, I’ll shine with pride when I’ll look up and see what tall, beautiful blossoms they’ve grown into.

Until then, I’ll stock up on more tissues.