Wheat or barley?  That is the question!  Okay, fine maybe not the biggest question, but it was certainly on my mind while I was in the hospital this past week.  For the past few months, our family has each taken turns getting ill.  We have had more ER visits this fall than cumulatively in our entire lives.  First my husband broke his foot, then he developed, and thank G-d received (and continues to receive) treatment to limit their risks, then my son had an extreme reaction to his first taste of nuts, and then we found out that my daughter has allergies as well. 

So naturally I knew it was only time until my visit came knocking at our door.  Hey, we're a family, we go through everything together.  It wouldn't be fair if everyone had their share of medical emergencies and I was left out.  And being someone who strives to live life to the max also comes with the added component of when I have a low, I have a real low.  So when emergency strikes in my life, boy does it come in full gear.  I was admitted in the ER with complaints of a majorly swollen abdomen.  I looked like I was 5 months pregnant, which would have been awesome had I been pregnant.  But unfortunately, I couldn't attribute the bloating to that.  Or to a scrumptious steak and mushroom rice pilaf from the previous night.  Remember, we are on a special allergy elimination (read: bland) diet.  Or as I like to rename it, a special food program, as I don't want my daughter to even come close to the word diet.

The hospital ran every possible test.  I could see the concern in the doctors' and nurses' eyes.  I had the best care modern medicine could offer.  Extensive blood work and analysis, abdominal xray, ultrasound, CT scan, chest xray.  And everything came back inconclusive.  But my stomach was distended, and my WBC was elevated.  "Hmm," the doctors scratched their heads, "we're not quite sure what this is.  We see the young woman is in a lot of pain, and the symptoms are there.  But we have no idea."  And so they attempted to treat the pain, which offered limited options, given that I was still nursing my son.  Plus, I vehemently dislike taking medication (I can't remember the last time I took a Tylenol) and so the story went like this "Take some of this to ease the discomfort.  No thanks.  But you're in pain.  That's okay, I'm coping.  But we want to help you.  No worries, I'll manage."  And after about eight hours, they eventually stopped asking.

Last week, I had attended a wonderful class at my Synagogue given by the inspirational Rebbetzin Chanie Baitelman.  The class was part of the Women's Rosh Chodesh Society and discussed the various fruits of the seven species and how they reflected our inner beauty.  It was in preparation for Tu B'shvat, a holiday that celebrates the birthday of trees, and the growth of blossoms, fruits, grains, and vegetation.  In fact, although some may consider it an insignificant holiday, it is one of my favourites.  I am at outdoorsy kind of gal; I enjoy being in nature.  I love the open space, the fresh air, and lively colours.  I find tremendous satisfaction in celebrating our dear green companions, who bring many benefits to the world (just read the book Dear Tree and you'll find out all about what they offer us).

So you can imagine my sadness at how my hospital visit left me with little time to prepare for Tu B'shvat.  I wanted to organize some games, stories, and treats for my family to enjoy while celebrating.  My friend and I were planning on doing a wonderful craft with our daughters involving huge beautiful leaves that I found lying on the sidewalk on my walk last week, and we wanted to teach the girls about seeds and give them the opportunity to plant their own flowers in a uniquely decorated planter.  All of that was put on hold.  No Tu B'shvat party.  No leaf craft.  And no planters.           

I was left with the choice to moan and fret about my lonely experience in the hospital or to put a smile on my face and move forward.  I chose the latter option.  I met a wonderful nurse named Sam and when she heard me decline the morphine because I was nursing, and so she casually mentioned that she just got off maternity leave.  She had a beautiful one year son, and being a first time mom, she relished in the opportunity to vent and share her stories with a more experienced mom.  I chuckled at her compliment, being that I in no realm see myself as a motherhood expert, but I didn't want to crush her dreams.  So I listened to her share her experiences about nursing, sleep battles, teething, nap time, routines, and solid foods.  We spoke (or rather, she spoke) for fifteen minutes and I could tell she enjoyed being heard and acknowledged in one of the most difficult roles we as women face: motherhood.

So it got me thinking about the class on Tu B'shvat.  We are what we eat.  And so we eat foods that are healthy not just for our body, but for our mind, heart, and soul.  We learned about the differences between wheat and barley.  One of which is that wheat symbolizes refinement and transcendence and barley reflects necessity and vitality.  Barley may be a healthy option, but the symbolism of wheat is that we can rise above our situation and reach our potential by refining our character traits and embracing new ways of being, responding, and coping.  I wondered to myself, maybe that explains why I am very much a carbs fan.  I must have carbs, and preferably wheat, with each and every meal to keep my energy up.  Yet, I have an aversion, and possibility a food sensitivity, to barley.  While I recognize the importance of being grounded, I want to rise above my limitations and soar towards the tallest of the trees.

So in the hospital, while I wasn't able to eat anything or drink any liquids until a diagnosis was made (thus ensuring that I would be read to go into surgery at any moment), the thought of wheat didn't leave me hungry.  Rather, it left me inspired and invigorated.  I wound up in the hospital this week not because of my physical ailment but for a transcendent reason.  I was present to listen to the kind nurse share with me what was on her mind, and so that I could put a smile on the faces of all the patients, nurses, doctors, and technicians I encountered.  In the end, thank G-d, my diagnosis was not serious, and a simple dose of medication was all I needed to get back in tip top shape and leave a lasting smile on my face and bounce in my step.

Wishing you and yours a transcendent Shabbos,
Ettie Shurack

Friday 4am:  My three year old daughter got up for the third time, waking her 1 year old brother in the process.  I only went to sleep two hours earlier because the little fella was having a hard time settling down and falling (and staying) asleep, plus I still had to unpack the car from our massive grocery shop and prepare a Shabbos meal for my family and guests.  Let's put it this way, it was a long night.  I wanted to yell at my daughter "just go back to bed" and scream at my son "why won't you sleep?" and just throw in the towel and have cereal for Shabbos dinner (and lunch).

But I didn't. 

Last night, I attended a beautiful class given by Rabbi Yechiel Baitelman  on the topic "Where did all the Miracles Go? Why Wonders are a Thing of the Past" (part of the Jewish Learning Institute series).  He spoke about the miracles that occurred in Parshas Beshalach, as well as the past few Torah portions, including the 10 plagues, the splitting of the Red Sea, the Jews leaving slavery in Egypt.  We discussed why miracles of "Biblical proportion" don't occur today.  I was quiet the entire class; I was there to learn, rather than share. 

But when the Rabbi presented a certain question and the class was quiet, I couldn't help but include  "We experience miracles in our day to day lives.  Some small, some big.  The smaller miracles are no less important or relevant than the bigger ones.  If anything, they may be harder to spot, yet I feel they are more often than not more meaningful and long lasting."  The Rabbi smiled, and I was quiet again for the rest of the class.

The class was filled with many insightful thoughts, Torah commentaries, and relevant and tangible ideas and notions.  We learned that Midrash Milshei states that in the Messianic times, all the festivals will be abolished, except for Purim.  I'll be honest, I enjoy Purim.  I love dressing up and seeing the smiles on my children's faces, I take pride in reading about Queen Esther's courage and strength, I like exploring unique recipes for hamentashen, and I enjoy bestowing my family and friends with mishloach manot.  But I never thought about it as a particularly deep and meaningful holiday.  I thought about it as one of the more fun and lively festivals.

Well, was I wrong!  How could it be that holidays such as Rosh Hashanah, Pesach, Shavuos, and Simchas Torah, would no longer exist, yet Purim would be the chosen one?  In the class, we discussed the difference of miracles that exist within nature and those that break out of the confines of nature.  Pesach was a miracle outside of nature.  I mean, how often do you see a huge body of water split in half?  Purim, on the other hand, occurred within seemingly natural circumstances and G-d's name isn't mentioned once in Megillat Esther. 

Speaking of everyday occurrences, take birth, for example.  Until my son was born, I never considered the miracles that went on during pregnancy, labour, and birth.  I took for granted what a tremendous miracle a healthy and safe birth is for a mother and a child.  I was naive.  I was youthful.  I was inexperienced.

And then in a split second, my world turned upside down.  My son was born not breathing, with an Apgar score of 1, and needed continuous CPR and then a breathing device, and only to be put on various monitors and machines for almost every single function of his body.  The fact that he survived, and not just survived, but is a thriving, active, curious, charming 16 month old is a miracle from G-d.  The doctors and nurses in the hospital thought so too.  Because the odds were certainly not in our favour.  Just because birth occurs daily, doesn't mean it's any less of a miracle than the splitting of the Red Sea.  It was Albert Einstein who said that there are two ways to look at life; as if everything is a miracle, or as if nothing is a miracle. 

So at 4am this morning, instead of breaking down in tears, I chose to change my lens.  I decided to look at my daughter not as a whiny and time consuming preschooler, but as a strong willed girl who doesn't want to miss a minute of action.  I decided to view my son not as a screaming baby but as a kind sensitive soul who does not yet have the words to articulate why he is having a hard time staying asleep.  And I decided to look at my Shabbos cooking not as a chore, but a blessing that we are surrounded by family and friends who I have the privilege of inviting for Shabbos. 

So while the reality of everyday life is hard, raising children is challenging, hosting guests can be hectic; I would rather that than the alternative.  Because as I experienced firsthand, the alternative is not pretty.  We can choose to see the miracles in our lives, or we can choose to see the difficulties. 

Wishing you and yours a wonderful (and miraculous) Shabbos,
Ettie Shurack

Exactly three years ago, I wrote an article titled "Snow Day" (Volume 2, Issue 6) about a beautiful snowfall that overtook Vancouver and how much fun our family had.  For the one precious day when snow graced our city, my family enjoyed a lovely walk through the trails near our home, took our sled to the hills overlooking a lovely lake just a few blocks away, and built a Jewish Snow Family par excellance.  And when I say a snow family, you should know, we Shuracks take our snow families very seriously.  The Snow Tatty was decked out with a pair of tzitzis and a black hat, the Snow Mommy wore a shaitel and a stylish scarf, and the Snow Baby Girl wore a winter cap and even had a toy to keep her busy.  There were other accessories like pebbles for eyes, tomatoes for the noses, and spatulas for the arms.

So three years later, when we were blessed with another substantial snowfall (read 10cm), we experienced some nostalgia as we enjoyed a family fun day in the snow.  We weren't quite prepared for the snowfall this year, so we had to improvise.  Being that we moved to our new home a month ago, our winter gear was still packed up in boxes.  So my three year old got to enjoy wearing adult sized snow pants held up with elastic bands, and my son wore his fleecy one piece with a garbage bag tied around his waist.  In fact, wearing "Mama's snowpants" was one of the highlights for my daughter; she felt so big and proud and talked about it for days.  We couldn't find our toboggans, so we pulled our children around in boxes.    

In addition to "sledding" down some nearby hills, my children had fun building our traditional Snow family.  However, this year the Snow family welcomed an additional member.  We still had the Snow Tatty, the Snow Mommy, and the Snow Girl, but Snow Baby Boy made his appearance.  Our Snow family donned some of the same apparel this year, yet with different accessories, such as leaves for eyes, carrots for noses, and apple peels for their smiles.  My one year old son truly loved experiencing snow for the very first time.  He kept taking off his gloves only to start shivering after putting his hands in the snow.  My preschooler tried to explain to her younger brother why the snow is cold, but even her best scientific reasoning couldn't stop him from putting his hands in the snow and trying to eat it.

Three years ago, our city's snowfall reaffirmed for me the importance of establishing family traditions through our customary "snow day meal" of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (just like my mother-in-law made for my husband and sister-in-law when they were a child).  This year, the snow fall solidified a new lesson for me.  It would have been so easy to tell the kids "sorry, we can't go play in the snow today" when they woke up to see the streets covered in snow.  After all, it was Friday and we were having many Shabbat guests for both the night and day meals.  So a simple, "Mommy has to cook for Shabbos" would have sufficed.  Or, "sorry, Mommy has a headache, you can play in the snow when Tatty is done work."  True and to the point.  Or, "We just moved, and I can't find the box of snow gear, so we'll be too cold without it."  I had every excuse in the book.

I'll be honest with you, I don't love the snow.  Not only do I not love it, I don't even like it.  If I could, I would live in Florida, California, Australia, or better yet the Bahamas.  So I would have much rather stayed indoors on such a chilly day dreaming of white sandy beaches.  But the excitement on my kids' faces as they were glued to their bedroom window from 6:30am onwards was palpable.  Over breakfast, we discussed the games we would play in the snow, what we would build, and what type of attire we would creatively concoct.  My daughter even insisted, "We need to do a mitzvah and rake our neighbour's driveway" (I think she meant shovel).  How could I say no to that?        

So I put on my brave face, we bundled up, and enjoyed playing in the snow for several hours.  We came home and gobbled up our traditional snow day lunch (read more about that in the original Snow Day article).  We were left with a brief 90 minutes to get ready for Shabbat.  Thank G-d for my routine of doing the majority of the cooking Thursday evening, so it was just some finishing touches and setting the table that needed to be done.

In this week’s Torah portion, Parshas Bo, Hashem gives the Jewish people the very first mitzvah: establishing a calendar.  Having a calendar is a very important aspect of life (in fact, one of my favourite aspects, I love to-do lists).  It allows us to keep track of appointments, bookings, holidays, the holy Shabbat, and is an integral part of planning our days (and lives).  Where would we be without our day timers, planners, agendas, and these days iPhone apps, to help us navigate our busy lives?  There are certain slots or appointments that can't be changed, and only under extreme circumstances would one postpone them.  But there are also parts of our day that can (and should) be changed so that we can truly live in the moment. 

These are the times where all the planning and scheduling in the world cannot amount to the majestic smile of my children who just spent their time playing together and laughing in glee.  When my daughter and I lit candles and welcomed Shabbos, we sat down on the couch together and reflected on our wonderful day.  We talked about how much fun we had playing in the snow for a full four hours and how fast we managed to complete all our last minute Shabbos preparations.  We reminisced how cool it was to use leaves as eyes for our Snow family.  We discussed what a mitzvah it was to shovel our senior neighbour's driveway. 

And then my dear daughter's face lit up in a huge smile, "Mama, next time it snows, can we spend all day outside together again?"  So while planning is great and to-do lists are important, nothing can possibly beat living in the moment with our fun-loving adventurous children.   Just as much as I dislike cold weather, soggy boots, and freezing hands, I love to see my children's vibrant smiles as they enjoy nature and building and exploring. 

Wishing you a wonderful Rosh Chodesh Shevat,
Ettie Shurack