I worked for Judge L. Leonard Ruben in the Montgomery County Circuit Court when I first came across the expression, '
This Too shall Pass'. The quote was framed and hung in the Judge's chambers, purposely situated on the wall just before the door that led us from the chambers to the courtroom. It stood alone so as to deny any conflicting focal point. It was the first and last thing you saw before the start of court.
Those four simple words, its origins dating back to King Soloman, and more recently to Abraham Lincoln during his inaugural address, were just enough to remind me that nothing is permanent. Somewhat subconsiously, it became my mantra.
I found myself reciting this expression with frequency to my kids whenever they would complain about their current stuations, whether it be a teacher who grades assignments
'unfairly' or having to suffer through their baseball team's losing season, or more recently, being afflicted with COVID.
'
This Too Shall Pass' offered a more gentler approach than just saying, "deal with it," to which they eventlually presumed it to mean.
But it also proved to be a constant reminder, albeit, sometimes to them a petulant reminder, that life is momentary, and that we live in a world that is constantly transitioning. What once seemed inescapable would become trivial or certainly less significant. Inevitably though, they would respond with, "
What? How does that help me now? He'll still be my teacher tomorrow and we will still suck at baseball." I got nothing in response other than, "
Deal with it."
"
This Too Shall Pass" helps me get to tomorrow as it did during the horrific destruction of the Twin Towers and the aftermath of 9/11. And again through the terrifying days surrounding the sniper attacks in our community when our oldest son was just stating pre-school, and through the emergence and scare of the AIDS crisis around the world.
Those same words helped me during those trying times of the 'terrible two's' through the obnoxious teens, and then the anxieties that seemed to accompany our kids through their college experiences, whether it was due to a bad breakup, a missed opportunity on the baseball diamond, or the unexpected school closure due to COVID, and then again when our family suffered overwhelming pain from the loss of a best friend to cancer.
So, if it's Monday, I will workout, play bridge and pay bills. Tuesdays are my set-aside days for appointments and to write. Wednesdays and Thursdays are for golf, and if it's Friday, it's pickleball. The weekends are reserved for Shabbat dinner with family and friends, Saturdays are for date nights and Sundays for family days around our pool. That's how I get to tomorrow. I will lose myself in routine.
But due to the past eighteen months and the still uncertainty of the months ahead, my routine is now with purpose. It's not just making dinner, it's preparing a meal. It's setting the table with placemats, folded napkins, and a bottle or two of wine. It's a bouquet of sunflowers adorning the room. It's about having a conversation without the interruption of cell phones or the television. It's about sharing our day or at least the best part of it. And it's about focusing on each other as if nothing else matters.
And it's not just another Sunday. It's the celebration of Sunday. It's the raucous sounds of the kids in the pool and the shared laughter of family stories that seem to never get old, just retold. It's actively engaging with each ogther and watching grandparents and great-grandparents revel in their offstpring. It's about encouraging conversation amongst the ages and savoring the cumulative interactions. It's watching my 20-year-old son give advice to his 15-year-old cousin about the appropriateness of his younger cousin's tweets. It's about my 61-year-old self dangling from my 87-year-old mom's legs while she sits poolside with me in the shallow end, reminiscent of my childhood days at our community pool.
It's making sure to have Diet Dr. Pepper on hand that only my Uncle prefers, and a vairety of food and beverage choices to accommodate a plethora of personal predilictions, be it gluten-free, carb-free, alcohol only, to sparkling beverages, bottled water or fruit juices. It's about having enough food for the masses in case they stay for diner. It's about hoping they stay for dinner.
It's about making the best during difficult times but appreciating the routine during normal times. If there's one thing that this past year and a half has taught me is that we fail to enjoy the ordinary and take for granted what's right in front of us.
My walks with our dog, Baxter are no longer just for potty purpose. It's a meet and greet. Where I use to put my headphones on and pretend to be on the phone so as to evade a neighbor's attempt to elicit conversation or engage our dogs, I am now the first to acknowledge their approach with a "
good morning/afternoon" to the walkers or a purposeful 'stop' to allow an approaching dog and Baxter a chance to smell each, which inevitably prompts a conversation with its owner.
Where I use to peruse Facebook only on my birthday to see who remembered, I now take time to comment on other's timelines without thinking it was a waste of time. And when I do a workout, it's with a challenge and not just for a 'check-off'. It might just be an extra set of sit-ups or an additional weight for my arm work-out or an added five minutes to my treadmill routine. And where I use to refuse random invitations to meet for coffee or to go for an afternoon walk for no other reason than an unsupported, "
I have no time", I know very well that I most definitely do.
It used to be that I always needed to be looking forward to something, whether it be in a month, six months or a year ahead, hastening the days to get there without ever embracing the day-to-day rituals of just living. COVID and its strict protocals unintenionally forced me to welcome the ordinary. It's all about consciously choosing to be 'all in' the day in order to resit giving into the moment.
Should all that fail, I'll put on my earpods and get engrossed in a good book because, as we all very well know,
this too shall pass...
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