Elul!

Even though the hot temperatures are lingering, the frivolity of summer is behind us. The kids have been back in school for three weeks. Life is regimented. Our family had lots of fun. We swam and saw family. We did not miss Shakespeare in the Park nor sleeping in the tent. Plenty of meals were enjoyed on the back deck (and still are). Our toes were painted and marshmallows were toasted in the chiminea. Summer, I can confidentially  say, was a success.


Even though it was filled with such happiness, my work took me to some not-so-happy places. I deployed to both the Joplin Tornado at the end of May and more recently, Hurricane Irene. Fortunately my children are spared from my experiences - even though they do see some of it portrayed in the media (and then worry about me the entire time I am gone). During an event I get very little time to reflect on what is unfolding in front of me. Fourteen hour shifts (if I am lucky) and the adrenalin rush, make it hard to even eat or sleep, let alone think.


But my last week deployed I got an email from a very dear friend that snapped me out of my 'responder' mode. He and his family survived a very scary MVC (motor vehicular crash). Suddenly I found myself with tears in my eyes as I read his email. Elul, Teshuva, 'the meaning of life' all came crashing down upon me. I spent the night reflecting on life, my friendships, my family, and Hakadosh Baruch Hu. Summer was over.


With that I will share a short excerpt. I apologize if it is a little choppy, as I have left out some lines in the middle. I wish everyone a contemplative, introspective Elul that elevates your Teshuva and self-growth. I know deploying and speaking with my friend has firmly set me on my way.



 ........there is a comfort when our whole family is together - especially if we are on a long drive; heading for an adventure, kids singing to Ray Charles, everyone nestled in with their pillows and books. Then suddenly I realize everything,  the ONLY thing, that is important in my world is in one place, hurling down the road in a tin can at 70mph. And as much as we like to think we are 'in control' of our micro environment, there is very little we can do to influence control over anything.

I work in this odd world of medicine and disaster, and I see a lot of sad unfortunate stuff. To function, I put a mechitza between my work world and my threshold. I do the science. I do the command and control. But I do not want to know the stories.

I do not want to hear of the two-year old who was ripped from his father's arms or the 18 year old who just graduated from high school 30 minutes ago was sucked out of the sun roof while his father was only 12 inches away. I turn off the television so I do not know. I don't read the news until enough time has passed so the body I am seeing in the morgue can remain a blank profile because it would just hurt me too much, and I would not be able to continue to do what it is I do.

When President Obama came to visit us in Joplin, I listened to his speech because everything was broken around me. I needed some structure and to feel part of something more whole and complete. His speech was excellent - like MLK or JFK. Succinct and purposeful.

Then it veered toward pathos as he told the stories. Stories I was not yet ready to hear since I was still responding, and we still had bodies at the morgue. The stories were of those people - who had lives and spouses and children and parents. They were no longer just numbered human remains. I got very angry suddenly because I did not want him bringing me so close to that which was so raw.

When I allow myself to think about it I realize, even in a world where we can contact anyone-anytime that in no way makes up for living in the moment with the ones we love. Our time is so finite. Our relationships fleeting. Our moments now. Because at the end of most of deployments I walk away saying, "There but for the grace of G-d go I." And why it all happens the way it does, when it does, nobody knows. I have learned I must live every day and moment to its fullest. Waiting until I 'retire' or 'when we have enough money', is just a pathetic excuse for choosing not to live.

The older we get, the more complex life becomes. Our experiences change us in ways we may have never expected. What we do with our experiences is for us to determine. 


From my home to yours.....L'shanah tovah tikatev v'taihatem