The (Now) Hilarious Thing That Happened Right Before Rosh Hashanah

Picture it: it's a couple of hours before Rosh Hashanah. My husband and I are feeling ecstatic and quite proud of ourselves. Even with an infant, half a work day for each of us, and a three hour trip to our destination, we are running early enough to stop at the bank, pick up a few items at the local grocery store, and my husband is looking forward to even having time to stop by the mikvah before yuntiv. We are cool, calm, and collected as we unpack our now slightly cranky car-seat passenger and the copious items of luggage we hauled along. We greet our lovely hosts, and I carry S up to the guest room. My husband mans the baggage. As he prepares to step out again and make his way to the mikvah, he double checks that I'm all settled.

"I'm good to go," I say. "I just need you to bring up the suitcase."
"The suitcase?"
"The suitcase. The one you said I shouldn't carry downstairs myself that has all of my clothes and S's things inside."
"The suitcase..."

It's two hours before yuntiv and the aforementioned suitcase is three hours away in our home. It took me three hours over the course of two days just to pack it! (Ever tried packing for a three day yom tov/Shabbos while entertaining a 12 week old baby, preparing seven preschoolers for Rosh Hashanah and maintaining some semblance of order and sanity in your home?) I lost it, just a little. Actually, I cried. S looks most adorable in any and everything he wears and it wouldn't be too hard to get extra diapers and wipes and probably even borrow some clothing for him from some friends in the area, but I was still in my weekday clothes from teaching preschool. Complete with some paint stains, spit up and who knows what else? This is what I had with me to wear for yom tov: A rain coat, rubber boots covered in orange and yellow flowers, pearl earrings and a pearl necklace, and my sheitel. My husband felt terribly, though it truly is no one's fault--we both worked hard, we both tried our best, and we both forgot together. Now, being the master problem solver he is, he took care of arranging for me to borrow an entire wardrobe from a good friend in the neighborhood (even better friend now that I've shopped through her unmentionables) and for S to borrow a few changes of clothing from some other friends. Another very generous friend went out in the midst of his own preparations to buy diapers and wipes for our little guy. All three of us arrived fully dressed (aside from my husband's hat, which we also left behind) and only a little worn out to our dinner hosts in time to enjoy a festive Rosh Hashanah meal. We dipped our apples in the honey and welcomed in a sweet new year, and as we did, I reflected a bit on what I could possibly learn from this situation (aside from making a list and checking it twice!)...

Everything I need, I have and everything I have, I need. Baruch HaShem, we had everything we did need with us. My husband and my son were here with me: that was most important. Also, any medications and medical equipment had made the trip successfully. The rest was really just more about comfort and sometimes we need to feel a little uncomfortable in order to make a change or remember something important. So everything I needed, I had. But on the other side of that is the lesson to be learned: everything we have, we need. This was a challenging situation and HaShem provided this challenging situation to me. If that's the case, then for sure it was meant to happen.

You can't take it with you; travel light! We're meant to enter Rosh Hashanah fresh and anew. This is when we take the time to reflect on the previous year and decide what's worth being carried forward and what should be left behind. We have those more difficult conversations with one another and ask for mechilla (forgiveness) when we've done someone wrong. We have those more difficult conversations with G-d and ask for His mercy in the areas in which we struggle spiritually. We have those even more difficult conversations with ourselves because at the end of the day, the one person who can be the quickest to anger and slowest to forgive is me. And we're meant to let go. To spend a set time in teshuva and self-reflection, but then to shrug it off, shake off the dust, and make a plan. This is not the time of year to be weighed down by old baggage; it's the time to travel light and move ahead.

The King is in the Field. It is said in the month of Elul preceding Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, that HaShem is most accessible. Throughout the year, He is, of course available, but at this time of year, He leaves His holy palace to reside with us in our mundane environment. He's ready to talk and ready to listen. We just need to be willing to start that conversation. Just as resolving a crisis of luggage left behind requires us to be humble and ask for help, so too are we called upon in the month of Tishrei to be humble and ask for help from HaShem. He is ever so willing to answer our call, we just have to be willing to dial the number.

And so with the excitement and drama of Rosh Hashanah behind us and the sweetness of that honey still fresh on my tongue, we are hours away from entering one of the holiest days of the year: Yom Kippur. While the haunting melodies of Kol Nidrei give forth a sense of somberness and severity, this is truly one of the most joyous yom tovim of the Jewish year. This is where we celebrate our deep connection to G-d and our true commitment to Torah values and mitzvot. It's the wedding anniversary, so to speak, of the Jewish people's marriage to HaShem. No longer are we weighed down by the struggles behind us. Nor should we feel burdened by the work that lies ahead. Tonight and tomorrow as we pour our hearts and souls into tefillah (prayer) and teshuva (repentance), we release the disappointments that kept us from moving forward and the expectations that hold us back. May this be a year of blessings, peace, and prosperity for all and may it also be the year of redemption. Wishing all a meaningful Yom Kippur and an easy fast. G'mar chasima tovah!