It was a good trip…


pr trainIt’s been a long journey. One I hadn’t planned to take. But now that I did, I’m really happy to have arrived. It’s a place that not too many people travel to. They’re a bit frightened of it. I was, too. But that was before I actually got here. It has a scary name. Many people don’t even want to say its name. I wasn’t the one who bought my ticket. It was purchased by the One who knows us all, who knows exactly where we have to go to achieve what is best for our soul. He put me on the train with a suitcase packed with strength. “You can do this,” He whispered to me. I wanted to argue. I didn’t think I was capable of this trip at all but the train was already rolling along its tracks. It was too late.
So I opened the suitcase. Sure enough, I found the strength I needed. There was pain. There was fear. There was confusion. But the strength He had packed for me supported me. And I began to notice how He watched over the details of my trip. “He loves me, I thought to myself. “He cares.” It felt good to be loved. It made me think that maybe, just maybe, He had been caring for me always. Amid the frenzy of searching for the perfect sash to match the living room curtains, I just hadn’t noticed. To think I had traded the fleeting satisfaction of finding a shade of teal for the all-encompassing feeling of being nurtured by my Father who cherishes me.
I was beginning to enjoy this trip. I began to collect souvenirs, not to give as gifts but for myself. I wanted to remember this trip after it was long over. I wanted to be able to take out a souvenir and recall my Father, knowing that He is guiding my life. It would feel good to know that it wasn’t me that is in charge but He who oversees every detail only so I would grow spiritually closer to Him.
I wasn’t alone on the train. I met many of His messengers. An entire army of people who seem to have been created just for me! It was truly an army with Rav Chananya Chollak at its head as General. Each Ezer Mizion division had many soldiers, each one imbued with Rav Chollak’s special brand of sensitivity and caring. The Ezer Mizion Food Division brought meals to whoever was spending hours at the hospital with me plus to my home since preparing meals was beyond what I was able to cope with at the time. Each meal was so attractively packed with all the extras that said, “We care!” The Ezer Mizion Transportation Division brought me and my visitors to and from the hospital. Each driver remembered what we had talked about on the last trip and asked me how things were going. Then there was the Ezer Mizion Guest Home, a place to stay near the treatment center, psychological support, fun days and trips to keep up my spirits, volunteers to do homework with the kids, more volunteers to do housework for me, more volunteers to take the kids shopping for shoes. Not one soldier ever went AWOL. They were all so happy to help, as if I were doing them a favor for letting them.
It wasn’t easy to accept from others. I was used to being the giver. But I knew that that, too, was part of His plan.
My trip is over. I’ve reached my destination. The sign at the last stop read Remission. As I unpack, I see that the strength in the suitcase was used up but somehow I have accumulated new strength. All my souvenirs of understanding, of sensitivity, of growth will be prominently displayed in my home enabling me to live a more spiritual life. It was a good trip.
For further info: http://www.ezermizion.org

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