There’s No Use Crying Over Spilt Soup
I start working on my blog every day at 12:30 in the afternoon. So today, at 12:25, I went down to my kitchen to quickly heat up some soup to eat before I started writing for an hour before my boys’ pick-up time.
But when I was returning the box of soup to the fridge, it slipped out of my klutzy hands, spilling soup all over.
So, using a squigee and an entire role of paper towels, I proceeded for the next quarter of an hour to clean it up–from the bottom of the fridge, and the door of the freezer, and underneath the fridge, and all over the floor.
The weird thing was that, even though I would have preferred to be blogging and not cleaning up that slipped soup right then, I didn’t feel upset. I actually felt quite content. And here’s why…
A few months ago I read an article, I think in Ami, written by a daughter about her late mother.
I don’t exactly remember the details, but the story went something like this. This woman had been a poor widow with a bunch of small children. But she was always smiling. Always calm. Always on top of the house and the kids and helping out many needy people in the community.
And then, one year, the night before the Seder, this holy mother was putting away a pan of fish into her toothpicked-toothbrushed fridge, and the pan of fish slipped out of her hands, spilling fish sauce fell all over the fridge.
And this woman, who was always smiling and always calm and always on top of everything, sat down, put her head in her hands, and began to cry.
Decades have passed since that holy mother cried the night before Passover over that fish sauce, but it was her tears that kept me calm this morning as I squigeed soup out from under my vegetable drawers.
Her tears reminded me that I’m not the only Jewish mother who has a hard time, from time to time. They reminded me, standing by that puddle of soup, that I’m not alone.
I love this post, except for one thing
I”m sure you wouldn’t call your child clumsy; don’t call yourself derogatory names either
a. people fulfill what they’re called
b. accidents happen, period.
thank you
Chana,once again you have managed to uncover the sublime within the mundane!
What a powerful message,, you passed that test with flying colors 🙂
🙂