The Angel of Dirty Socks

The Angel of Dirty Socks

When I was in America for a week for my mother’s unveiling, my husband stayed in Jerusalem with our kids.
Early one morning my husband was getting our little boys ready for school when he noticed a terrible odor emanating from our 6-year-old Yoni’s shoes. Upon closer examination, Josh realized that Yoni hadn’t changed his socks in days.
“Yoni, go get on some clean socks!”
“But Abba, I don’t know where my clean socks are…Every morning I wake up and there are clean socks inside my shoes to put on. I don’t know how they get there!”
Yoni’s dirty-sock mystery reminded me of a poignant story Knesset-member Yehuda Glick told after his beloved wife Yaffi passed away leaving him a single-father of 8 children.
I read this several years ago but think of it often:
After Yaffi died I would wake up in the morning and would be surprised to find dirty dishes in the sink and on the table. Dirty clothing in the hamper and a mess in the living room. Yaffi had been so sick towards the end of her life that she could no longer work outside the home. But when she died I realized that despite her debilitating illness the little nighttime angels that would clean while all of us were asleep had a name. And it was Yaffi.

When I was in America for a week for my mother’s unveiling, my husband stayed in Jerusalem with our kids.
Early one morning my husband was getting our little boys ready for school when he noticed a terrible odor emanating from our 6-year-old Yoni’s shoes. Upon closer examination, Josh realized that Yoni hadn’t changed his socks in days.
“Yoni, go get on some clean socks!”
“But Abba, I don’t know where my clean socks are…Every morning I wake up and there are clean socks inside my shoes to put on. I don’t know how they get there!”
Yoni’s dirty-sock mystery reminded me of a poignant story Knesset-member Yehuda Glick told after his beloved wife Yaffi passed away leaving him a single-father of 8 children.
I read this several years ago but think of it often:
After Yaffi died I would wake up in the morning and would be surprised to find dirty dishes in the sink and on the table. Dirty clothing in the hamper and a mess in the living room. Yaffi had been so sick towards the end of her life that she could no longer work outside the home. But when she died I realized that despite her debilitating illness the little nighttime angels that would clean while all of us were asleep had a name. And it was Yaffi.

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