“And Avraham returned… they rose and went together to Be’er Sheva.” (Bereishis 22:19)

When Avraham Avinu returned from the Akeidah, he was distressed. He’d wanted so badly to merit the zechus of the Akeidah and to offer his son as a korban to Hashem, yet the angel had prevented him from doing so.

Hashem said, “You feel disappointed that your task wasn’t done, but to Me, it’s as if Yitzchak was actually slaughtered and burnt. The merit of this will stand for the Jewish People forever.” (Rav Shimshon Pincus, Tiferes Shimshon)

Standing alongside my dining room breakfront is a dignified-looking grandfather clock. It’s not the real McCoy — it was bought on a whim — but it does its part to look as stately as its genuine counterparts. Yet when it begins to toll the hour, the facade is stripped away as the clock peals a tinny, battery-operated sound, nothing near the deep tolling of a genuine grandfather clock. Then it’s simply a nice decoration, masquerading as a grandfather clock, trying its best to tell time.

The Torah is giving us a true perspective for our actions. We try to serve Hashem, but as with Avraham, a force from Above may stop us from completing our mission, and we’re left disappointed. Yet Hashem considers a good intention to be like an actual deed: The effort itself is invaluable.

During the day, the noise level of my house drowns the tiny tolls of the clock. But late at night when I’m alone, the tolling of the hour penetrates my consciousness. Despite its lack of deep, rich sounds, the bells seem to speak to me, their rhythm conveying a sing-song message: “Never DONE! Never DONE!” The battery voice is raspy, yet persistent.

At midnight, its message rolls 12 times, testament to the 12 hours I’ve been running around doing errands, laundry, dishes, and more. Yet still, it tolls, “Never DONE! Never DONE!”

I didn’t need Hemingway to tell me for whom this bell tolls. It’s my message of midnight. Time to become a pumpkin — a clumsy, heavy pumpkin, full of tear-shaped seeds just waiting to spill.

I’m exhausted. I worked so hard today. Yet the clock tolls again: “Never DONE!”

Chazal tell us that if a person planned to do a mitzvah and didn’t do it, it’s considered as if he did it (Berachos 6a).

Our lives are full of efforts and it’s those very efforts that give us life. We get frustrated by our failure to achieve, but Shlomo Hamelech teaches us in Mishlei (24:16): “A tzaddik can fall seven times and get up.” Hashem only wants our continued efforts —  get up and try again.

Today was a particularly harrowing day. My freezer broke — gone were my frozen suppers. Driving on the highway I discovered I had six miles to empty, and the closest gas station wouldn’t take my American credit card.

Supper was scrambled eggs. There was simply no other food in the house. Then I dashed out for a meeting with the principal and one of my son’s teachers. It turned into a firing squad.

When I dragged my exhausted body into my house at 11:45, I was beyond thought or feeling. My glazed eyes barely saw the dirty dishes, overflowing garbage, and the full hamper. I almost made it to oblivion. Then began the tolling of the clock: “Never DONE! Never DONE!”

I sank into the couch, tears spilling over. It’s never going to be done. No matter how hard I work or how fast I move, there will always be more laundry, more dishes, more dirt. I didn’t want to fight with them anymore.

“I’m done,” I whimpered to the clock, “I’m finished. I quit.” I leaned my head back against the pillows and closed my eyes.

Then the tinny bell switched its song: “Now you’re Done! Now you’re Done!”

It didn’t matter that all my tasks were still incomplete. I was finished for the day. I had tried my hardest, worked my fastest, and accomplished as much as I could in one set of 24 hours.

And now I’m finished. I get credit for all the things done and all those undone as well. Tomorrow’s another day, where again I won’t be able to finish all the tasks thrown my way. But come midnight, I won’t revert to a pumpkin — I’ll still be a princess in my imperfect palace. I won’t ever finish my tasks. But I’ll have done my job. (Originally featured in Family First, Issue 614)