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I couldn't help but let out a little chuckle this morning. I was walking to work when I approached a zebra crossing (cross-walk). Four little people – no higher than my waist – were guarding it. I guess it amused me because I'm learning to drive here (a story all in itself), and all I see is lunatics dashing around on our roads in a free-for-all craziest-driver-gets-there-first frenzy. It's completely out of control and quite simply, a war.
But for these waist-high individuals, as Israelis will tell you when they don't have an answer to something "Ein davar cazeh" – "There's nothing like this." To them, it doesn't exist. Everything's peaceful and good. Despite the statistics of the fatalities on the road, for the little people guarding road safety, all that exists is order and tranquility on Israel's roads. They take their jobs very seriously and, because of them (they believe) everything runs smoothly; nothing bad happens.
Truth is, despite what we adults know to the contrary, how can we ignore these waist-high characters? We wait politely behind their sticks and patiently stand on the pavement until they give each other the nod and then in total sync, whole-heartedly throw out their tools of road-rage control.
How can that be? What are they seeing that we're not? How can they be totally convinced that their little bodies are all that's needed for sense and sensibility on Israel's war-infested roads? What is it?
G-d. When I was a little kid I remember vividly feeling G-d everywhere I went. One time I was eating a sugared almond and my playmate asked me if in between the almond and the sugar-coating was a layer of chocolate. When I replied in the positive she told me to promise. Hesitatingly I did so, but was so scared of defying G-d with a possible lie that from that night on I slept with my arms in the shape of the Hebrew letter 'shin,' feeling I was connecting to G-d in my sleep. No harm could come to me so long as I was "talking" to G-d and even in a semi-conscious state I wanted Him to know I hadn’t closed my dialogue with Him.
Daniel says he wants lots of kids at our wedding. He says these waist-high individuals simply see things adults completely miss. He sees it in their eyes, their actions, their smiles, their dancing and their whole body language. He sees it live and then later on, when he does the editing. It's quite impossible to pinpoint exactly what it is, but I think it's that special connection with G-d that just – as one goes into adulthood – somehow seems to wane, to be forced out by life-events and attitudes sucked up through witnessing adults who've lost their child.
But I'm not even sure everyone sees what Daniel sees. When he asked me if I wanted to put this idea into writing, I realized I didn't see it 100%. Or at least, I hadn't experienced it, lived it, no, felt it. Today, as I watched the waist-high characters guarding the lunatic-Israelis through the country's war-torn roads, I understood that it's because on some level I've lost the child within me too and I no longer infuse my whole essence with the G-d I took to bed with me as a youngster.
That's why children see what adults don't…because each morning they wake up with the knowledge of G-d tenderly beside them and each night they lie down to sleep with Him. I just hope I am zocheh to experience this first hand at my own wedding...
Emma
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