No Time for Perfection, Only What Is

I’m warning you; this post is not going to be perfect. I have given myself 30 minutes to get some words down about how I am feeling right now, and if I meet my deadline, I get my vanilla matcha latte.

I even set a timer.

So here goes.

Yesterday, I went to visit my parents in the valley. I was fully cognizant of the fact that I was parked in a 2-hour parking zone. No problem. Under 2 hours later, Mom and I took her dog Mayling out for a walk, and I moved the car. I had an additional 2+ hours until 6 pm, when the zone became permit-only parking. No problem. I planned to take my car to the car wash around 5, then come back and pick up my parents for our family dinner.

Ha.

The sultry afternoon passed quickly. The combination of the weather, the constant WhatsApps showing the latest missile strikes in Israel and settled in “my seat” at the heavy wooden table — where I had munched for my entire childhood — lulled me into a state of inertia.

When I went to take Mayling out awhile later, I saw the red and white envelope tucked neatly underneath my windshield wiper.

$68 for forgetting.

Funny thing is, I hadn’t gotten a ticket in years. However, just a week prior, on the morning my husband was leaving for Israel, he’d moved my car to the no-parking (street-cleaning) side, and we’d gotten a $73 ticket (much cheaper to live in the valley😊).

I hadn’t been happy about it, but had said, ‘it’s a kappara’ and let it go. He’d made a mistake.

Yet when I did the same thing yesterday, and said the words, “it’s a kappara,” I thought: What is wrong with you? What a silly and costly mistake.  

I am supposed to be more on top of things.

I don’t expect myself to be perfect…well, not quite.

Yes, a lot has been on my mind, and all our minds…including, as I said, the fact that, as of a few days ago, Israel is at war with Iran, and the entire country is in danger.

My husband was ‘supposed’ to come home yesterday. He’d gone to visit our son for about 9 days. Ironically, when we booked the ticket, I’d felt bad that he couldn’t stay longer.

Now, we don’t know when he’ll be back. We don’t know when anyone ‘stuck in Israel’ will return. (In quotes because I don’t believe any Jew is stuck there, but that those of us in the Diaspora are the stuck ones.)

It’s weird that I don’t know when he will return. The not knowing – that’s the weird part.

Before the war, I knew he’d be back on Wednesday, June 18. I should say, I thought I knew.

But no one knows anything. And we don’t like that.

We like to know when things will happen. We like the sense of control that comes with knowledge.

We make our plans for travel, for attending or making simchos, for this camp, that school, this type of marriage…to be married…this life…

Yet, can we be certain what we’re planning will happen?

Of course not.

All we can be sure of is what is, right now.

Right now, I am breathing, writing, drinking coffee, hearing the garbage cans being collected, and wondering if I’ll finish this first draft in the 12 remaining minutes.

We want assurances. We want to know what will be. We want to feel secure. We want to know that our loved ones in Israel will be fine, that the war will end with good news for the Jewish People and the World, that Iran will be defeated and their nuclear capability dismantled.

We want so much.

But here’s the thing – G-d has set things up differently. He doesn’t want us to have the knowledge, the comfort and assurances we’re looking for.

No matter what area you think about – making a living, shidduchim, safety, health, struggling children – we aren’t given promises that things will turn out a certain way – just as we planned.

Our minds are so small. But G-d is so big. There are infinite possibilities – infinite ways He can create peace in the Middle East. Infinite ways people can recover, find their marriage partner, make money, live life.

Perhaps that life will look nothing like what we have planned.

As I learned this week again – and I will have to learn it again and again – my efforts are necessary (which I do because I’m commanded to do so) however it’s G-d Who is taking care of everything, Who has planned and is planning — all for our benefit.

I don’t have to work so hard. And I don’t have to worry about doing the wrong thing. Because I will. I will get parking tickets. I will yell at my kids or my husband. I will make a mistake with a client, and I will mumble my blessings after telling myself a zillion times to focus better.

That’s OK. I’m imperfect.

G-d is the only perfection. Perfectly guiding the IDF, Bibi, Trump, and Khomeini.

And perfectly allowing the first flight of Israelis to return home today, singing and dancing with their flight attendant, wanting nothing more to be back home, to be with family and friends, to be where we are hurting and suffering most, perfectly waiting for the ultimate redemption.

They are not stuck.

No one ever is, when we open our minds to the possibilities and move a little bit away from what we believe must be.

And this is perfectly imperfect– but done. It is what is for me, right now. And what I want to share with you, my friend.

29 minutes, 13 seconds. Vanilla matcha latte, here I come