“And they cut … a cluster of grapes … And they spread word of the land … to Bnei Yisrael saying … ‘It’s a land that consumes its inhabitants … And there we saw … giants … And we were in our eyes as grasshoppers and so we were in their eyes.’ ”

(Bamidbar 13:23–33).

What were these great luminaries the nesiim complaining about? Why was it so terrible that the fruit was large or that giants lived there? Is there any difference to Hashem if He vanquishes a giant or a mosquito?

However we understand their conflict better in the continuation of their description: “And we were in our eyes as grasshoppers.” The nesiim contrasted the greatness of the land to their own puniness. They felt incapable of elevating themselves to the supernatural status that befits inhabitants of Eretz Yisrael. (Rabbi Baruch Mordechai Ezrachi Bircas Mordechai)

I was only four years old at the time but I remember the incident clearly. My mother bought us a story tape that all my siblings enjoyed. But one day the cassette disappeared. Everyone searched for it but it had simply vanished.

I knew they’d never find it. Why? Because I’d hidden it.

After three days of listening to the cheery songs and the story I simply couldn’t stand it anymore.

I had come to detest the family featured on the tape — a model family with perfect children who always did exactly as they were told. I couldn’t handle the pressure knowing that I’d never be like the sweet girl on the tape who always answered her mother in a joyous voice “Sure Mommy! I’d love to help you!”

My own life was so far from such perfection. So I hid the tape and that was the end of my discomfort.

“The meraglim were correct in their description of the fruit and people of the land. But they miscalculated their own strengths; they didn’t realize that they were the optimal inhabitants of the land for only Bnei Yisrael can truly match Eretz Yisrael’s exalted state. The land was created for spiritual giants rather than physical giants.

There are nights when all my failings rise up and confront me. “You’re a bad mother” they hiss. “You argued with your daughter and yelled at your toddler. Your kids didn’t eat a single healthy meal today; all they did was nosh …”

They remind me that I didn’t daven well that my Bircas HaMazon was a hasty mumble and that I wasted my day reading a dumb novel.

I wish I could just hide that annoying recording that rings endlessly in my head. But this tape is not so easily disposed of as the one from long ago. This one is buried deep in my heart cackling in my ears mocking pressuring degrading and causing me endless despair.

It’s imperative to understand this vital message: That we were destined to be tremendous giants — to live a heavenly life here on earth.

“Enough!” I silence that voice in my mind.

No I’m not always perfect or successful. It’s true that the fruits of Eretz Yisrael are extra large and that I feel puny when viewing the fruits of my labor. It’s also true that we sometimes live next door to giants whose lives always seem to be perfect and ideal.

But does that make me a grasshopper?

No.

There’s no perfect home anywhere in the world. Neither mine nor yours. Being a giant doesn’t mean growing taller but drawing ever close to Hashem. This core misconception accounts for the punishment of the meraglim.

Being a good mother doesn’t always mean being calm and serene. Neither does it mean spending my afternoons baking cookies with my children.

It means striving to fulfill the Will of Hashem with the conditions and abilities that I have been granted. It means desiring to be just a little bit better today than I was yesterday and a little bit better tomorrow than I am today.

Above all being a good mother means believing that I am not a grasshopper but the very best mother that Hashem has entrusted to my children. It means appreciating that I am equipped with the most perfect circumstances and tools to fulfill my mission. It means knowing that I harbor the inner strength to be … a giant!