We pulled up the blinds and for a second I stopped breathing. A 10’ x 10’ piece of metal looking suspiciously like our shed roof was lying on the mountain on the other side of the fence. A quick look out of the other window confirmed my suspicions. Trickles of rain gently pooled on the two remaining chunks of sheet-rock insulation before making their way down into the shed.
Looking through the window I didn’t think of the BBQ grill, the grass mower, or our Pesach dishes. Not even of our textbook g’mach. I was more worried about how my husband would take it.
A behavioral yakke, traumatized by a two-year army stint in the cold, show, and dirt of the Golan Heights, there are only two things he hates with a vengeance: rain and lack of order. And here was Divine Providence mixing the two together and offering to him first thing in the morning.
A year ago something like this would have sent him through the roof, so I was floored to see how calmly he handled it. “That’s what there is. Hashem does everything for the best,” was all he had to say before going off to shul.
Later on, we pulled whatever we could into the house, covered some stuff in plastic, and left the rest to get drenched. Thankfully, a couple of neighbors volunteered to put the roof back up under pouring rain that night.
There is so much in this story, but more than anything it illustrates our power to change ourselves and by extension our circumstances. My husband has been reading many of Rav Arush’s books lately and internalizing that whatever G-d does is the way it should be. Being in control of his surroundings is important for him, so his ability to let go of control and take the events in stride was truly inspiring.
We all know that gam zu letova, but there is a huge gap between knowing it and living it. A person is led the way he wants to go, so the damage ended up being a blessing. My husband’s new-found “lenses” didn’t just change his perspective; they transformed our whole experience.
Our flying roof reminded us that we can’t change the things that are beyond our reach. That stressing over them is just so counterproductive. That the cost of all the stuff in our shed is not worth giving up an ounce of equanimity.
Thank you Hashem for letting me see my husband’s inspiring example. It was worth (almost) losing a roof for that.
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