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| Family Tempo |

Profiles in Greatness

Why not profile Ruchi Steinberg, eminently average Jewish woman? Don’t we struggling non-superheroes deserve to be represented in the pages of our magazines?

At first glance, Tzirel Gutfreund looks like your ordinary mother of 17. She greets me in her tiny but immaculate home with the graciousness of one accustomed to hosting, seating me at her worn but homey dining room table. (“These are the holy scratch marks made by my husband’s and sons’ shtenders as they learn during their 2 a.m. mishmar,” she tells me as she fondly caresses the indentations.) The table is laid with a crystal platter overflowing with assorted homemade cakes.

But as I meet her eyes, at once deeply caring and piercingly shrewd, I catch a glimmer of the powerhouse behind the ordinary facade. And as we talk, Tzirel slowly opens up, overcoming her innate modesty to share with our readers the inspiring story of the woman who was the CEO of a multibillion-dollar corporation, gave it up when she realized she was sacrificing making her children home-cooked dinners, and then used all her savings to build a worldwide chesed empire from her home — but never at the expense of her husband or children, she assures me.

“I’ve always had a burning drive to help others,” she says, eyes gazing mistily in the distance. “I was eight years old when I ran my first chesed drive — I sold all my toys to raise money for a friend who needed new shoes.” She chuckles at the memory, and then lowers her head humbly. “But really, none of this is me. Everything I do, it’s all from Hashem. I’m just blessed to be His conduit.”

I ask her the question that’s surely on everyone’s minds: “Are you for real?”

I give a sardonic laugh and delete that last line. Then I head to the kitchen for a coffee break. Caffeine is essential when it’s midnight and I’m pushing deadline. But honestly, for writing profiles like these, chocolate is even more essential.

I grab a bar from my stash, and fill my mug. I used to find it inspirational, getting to meet women who’ve accomplished so much. Now, I just find it depressing. I look around my kitchen: the dirty dishes, not just from dinner but also from breakfast. There’s still spaghetti stuck to the floor where Chumi threw it and Tully smushed it this evening.

I head back to my computer, passing the couch where the telltale novel is still lying open. I’d sat and read this afternoon, while my children first climbed on top of me screaming, then eventually snuck into my office to watch three videos in a row. (They claim they asked me and I said yes. They might be right.)

I settle back down to continue writing about Superwoman.

 

 

Excerpted from Mishpacha Magazine. To view full version, SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE or LOG IN.

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