Thursday, January 2, 2014

Tears at the Barber

No, the barber did not decide to cut my husband's hair with a blunt scissors, so calm down.

This is one of those "I love living here so much..." stories.

Here goes -

Two weeks ago we became grandparents again - a little boy born to our kids in Chicago.  Mazel tov!  Why thank you!

Bernie was getting ready to travel to America for the shalom zachar and bris, and decided to get a haircut.  He proudly told his barber (an older Israeli man) about the new baby.  The barber, and his buddies who hang out in the barber shop (none of them are religious, just so you know, because it makes the story even sweeter) were incredibly happy for him and asked, "Are you going to be the sandek?"

"I don't know," he replied.  "Well," they said, "if you are the sandek, you have to come back and give us a bracha!"

For those of you who, like me, never heard this before  - apparently a bracha from the sandek [the person who holds the baby while the bris is performed] is a huge, special thing. They did not teach this at Pikesville Senior High.

Sweet enough to stop there, but there's more.

Bernie returned home yesterday and went to the barber shop today to visit.  They welcomed him warmly and lowered their heads to receive their bracha.  They were so moved, almost to tears, in gratitude that this man came back and gave them a bracha.

As Bernie left, himself almost in tears, they wished him a Shabbat Shalom and Chodesh Tov.

He called me, choked up, "I can't believe we live here."  He couldn't even find the words to express his emotions.

Yup, that kind of thing happens quite often.  Your heart fills up at the little things and you know that what you are feeling you could not feel anywhere else.

We hit our two year aliyahversary this Shabbat.  Still can't believe how blessed we are to be here.