Three doses of inspiration to lift the spirit and soul

(Not) Supposed To In Real Time

Esther Kurtz

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ong story short, my cleaning lady left me high and dry after showing up, cleaning for five minutes, and then bailing with an emergency with her kid.

I needed someone else — I was hosting two married sisters-in-law for Shabbos. After putting out an SOS, an acquaintance messaged that her cleaning help had a few hours available on Friday — huzzah. I messaged her lady, using Google Translate, and arranged for her to come for four hours the next day.

Next day, she arrived at 9:15, was sweet and pleasant, and quickly got to work. I cooked while she worked, and I wondered how her pacing would be — it’s a new home. She seemed a bit slow, and in my head, I wondered what jobs to cut down on. Also, I didn’t want her staying overtime as I only had exact cash for her — my previous cleaning lady had accepted Zelle.

When it started creeping toward 12:15, my brain went, she needs to leave now. She finished scrubbing my stovetop, I tapped my hand and said, “It’s late.” I made motions for her to leave, and she made motions to wash the floor, and I pointed at myself — I would do it. I paid her, and she left.

Was everything done? No. But the most important things were.

I told my husband I was running to the keilim mikeh and he made a face. “Isn’t the cleaning lady here?”

“No, she left.”

“Why?”

“’Cuz, she finished — it was 12:15.”

My husband looked at me.

“What time did she come?”

“9:15.”

“How many hours was she supposed to be here?”

“Four.”

And he let me connect the dots myself. I burst out laughing.

“I paid her for four hours! I rushed her out. What was I thinking?” It was hysterical, I was hysterical. How did I botch up like that?

But I shrugged it off and looked at it as a funny way for Hashem to make me lose $17 I wasn’t supposed to have.

Of course, I could have chosen to beat myself up over my ditzy spell, but I prefer to choose bitachon.

Esther Kurtz is the creator of Emunah for Non-Rebbetzins, an audio series teaching Shaar Habitachon in two-minute clips.

Bring Me Back

Around the Campfire

Mindel Kassorla

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fter two years in Eretz Yisrael, it was finally time to go “home.” I was fortunate to have not just a shanah alef seminary year, but a shanah bet as well. And now, with a wheelie suitcase stuffed with seforim, I boarded the plane and waved goodbye to the place where I’d truly grown up.

Eretz Yisrael is where I blossomed from a clueless high school senior into a responsible, laundry-doing, choice-making, shidduch-seeking adult. It was the land not only of my forefathers, but of my friends, mentors, and most foundational memories.

Back in New York that summer, it hit me harder than I expected. Though I’d already taken everything of mine back to America, I longed to return to the cobblestone streets, the crowded corners of Geula, the holy hills — and the Kosel.

You see, I’d never been an avid Kosel-goer. No 40-day segulos for me, no extended curfews for Kosel runs, and very few passionate prayers in the shadow of “The Wall.” But now, I ached for one more visit.

I knew I wanted to return, but I didn’t know how I would. No one was offering me a madrichah job, and I knew that going back without structure wouldn’t be good for my ruchniyus. So I made a commitment which was part resolve, part request. I decided two things, in hopes that Hashem would see to it that I merited a swift return:

I wouldn’t let a single word of complaint leave my lips about Israel — not about the land, the government, the weather, or the bus system. Nada.

Every time I mentioned Eretz Yisrael in my davening, I’d focus extra on my longing to go back.

In this way, it was specifically my bentshing that transformed from avodah to anchor (so much for bentshophobia!). Especially the words of Racheim: Hashem, I begged, we don’t want to be in exile anymore. Have mercy on Yerushalayim and restore its glory. Have mercy on the Beis Hamikdash, have mercy on us — and bring us home.

Well, the “happy ending” to the story is that, through Hashem’s master choreography, I made it back to Israel as a madrichah and a student (and I met my husband that year, too!). But the real reward of that summer lay in the sensitivity I built — and still try to access — through the words of Racheim.

Mindel Kassorla lives in Orlando, Florida, with her husband and children, where she’s the Judaic Studies Co-ordinator at Meoros Highschool for Girls.

Not a Mere Excuse

When in Pain: Guidance from Piaseczna

Rabbi Meir Kahane

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student told me she’d been advised to use more self-compassion while working on herself. She was concerned about how to distinguish healthy self-compassion from counterproductive excuse making.

In Aish Kodesh (Shemini Atzeres 5702), the Piaseczner Rebbe addressed the disappointment many felt in the Warsaw Ghetto after the Yamim Noraim, comparing their wartime self-development to what they had achieved in better times. He taught that our behavior shouldn’t be seen as isolated acts, but in context — shaped by our struggles, circumstances, strengths, and weaknesses. Just as a cyclist’s muscle gain can’t be judged by speed alone, but must account for the steepness of the climb, our growth must be measured against the difficulty of our personal terrain. What builds strength isn’t the size of the step but the effort it takes to make it. With this perspective, even small gains in dire circumstances may be greater than earlier successes, and what seems like failure may, in context, be no failure at all.

Essentially, the Rebbe is advocating self-compassion. It is clear from his tone that he’s not excusing stagnation or suggesting we simply accept our development as is — growth is nonnegotiable. His point is to encourage an accurate appreciation of the challenges that make progress difficult. Seeing things in context enables a more fine-tuned assessment of one’s growth and more effective plan for improvement. Harsh criticism ignores the struggle’s complexity, while excuses dismiss the value of the challenge. True self-compassion fosters long-term growth — if it doesn’t, it’s just an excuse.

Healthy self-compassion also provides a clearer self-view that drives development. If we judge ourselves only by whether we hit or miss, we may wrongly see ourselves as failures. Given the size of our challenges, even small steps can be real acts of growth. This mindset helps prevent the downward spiral that comes from being harshly critical and feeling like a failure. Seeing real progress fuels motivation. Recognizing struggle as natural reminds us that it doesn’t make us bad — on the contrary, effort despite challenge is what makes us great.

Rabbi Kahane is the menahel of Chedvas Bais Yaakov and a world-renowned educator and lecturer. He is the author of A Fire in the Darkness: Guidance for Growth When Life Hurts.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 969)