That Chana’s Son and This Chana’s Son
This morning I was making my way through the drizzling drops to buy 3-year-old Yaakov some warm shirts when I saw something that made me stop and get out my phone to snap this photo.
The tomb of Samuel, Shmuel HaNavi, underneath a mountain of ominous lead-colored rain clouds.
Seeing Shmuel buried underneath these threatening clouds I thought of my namesake, Chana, who yearned to have this child for 19 long years. And I thought of how, at a young age, Chana sent Shmuel to serve Hashem in the Tabernacle with a miraculous coat which, as Shmuel grew– grew with him.
How much love and devotion Chana put into each stitch of that coat! How much self-sacrifice fortified by vision– of the future of her son and the central role he would play in future of the Jewish people.
A mother’s love, devotion, and vision so strong that they guard over Shmuel thousands of years later even as the storm clouds form overhead.
I put my phone back in my pocket and continued walking to the store and chose out 4 warm shirts. Not miraculous shirts. Not handmade. Not for a lifetime–maybe for a year, if I’m lucky and they don’t shrink in the dryer.
But like Chana for Shmuel, full of love and devotion aplenty for my little boy.
But vision? I’m lacking a vision beyond my small, silly dreams for today–that Yaakov should be dry at night, that his cold will clear up, that I will finally find his sweaters which I lost in the move.
So I yearn that Shmuel’s mother, Chana, should inspire this Chana with vision as well–for a little boy grown big within a small but great people.