When life snows you

There was something quite magical in watching snowflakes fall in Johannesburg. It wasn’t a blizzard, so we could see each individual snowflake falling. It felt like a truly magical gift to all of us. Something so beautiful to behold in my own backyard – and yours (if you are Johannesburg-based, that is).

There was something unique in watching my neighbour’s thatched-roof lapa turning white, not for long mind you, but it was indicative of how snow in Africa is a fascinating anomaly. It went away as quickly as it came, but left behind a sense of magic and endless possibility.

Did it have that effect on you, or was it just a nuisance, getting in the way of the things you needed to get done? It’s always a case of how we choose to see it.

To be honest, that was a tiny part of a week in which, as with the snow, I had no control of the outcome. I got a virus, and it took me out of action in every way. From late Thursday afternoon, I was woman down battling a temperature, terrible headache, and weakness.

I was witness to how a Friday and then a wonderful weekend I had planned and was looking forward to disintegrated in front of me. I guess some might say it was magic. Every time I had to send a message to cancel or postpone something, the wind left my sails even further. I was flattened, and there was little I could do about it.

Had I been about to get on a plane to the best holiday in the world, I wouldn’t have been able to. I couldn’t do much except think a lot in between sleeping.

I did wonder where I might have picked this up, how and when I was going to get over it. The problem was, I had no clue. I knew that come Monday, I had to get back to working on the SA Jewish Report because that was a non-negotiable. I do have a wonderful team, which I knew would do all it could to make it easier for me, but I had to be involved. We all have our commitments. But as we so often say, “Man – or woman in my case – makes plans, and G-d laughs!” and He was laughing. Me? Not so much.

And as we saw with the snow, when things are taken out of our hands, we have numerous ways of dealing with it. Two of the main ones are to accept it and enjoy it, or at least do your best not to let it drag you down. You also have the option of letting it make you furious so that the world doesn’t look magical, it looks horrible.

I believe it’s a choice. The snow, for me, was an easy one, as are the many occasions in which we get stuck in traffic on our way to something. We can either enjoy some good music, listen to an audiobook or a podcast or two that might teach us something or is just fun, or even catch up on the calls we needed to make. Lots of things. The alternative is to seethe, get anxious, and waste all our time finding reasons why we have the worst luck, life hates us, and everything always goes wrong. We could even add that we don’t believe that we deserve this, and life is just cruel.

Either way, it’s a choice. For the most part, I accepted my situation and tried my best not to let it get me down. Did I get grumpy at times when we were putting this newspaper together this week because I was feeling horrid? I sure did. Apologies to my colleagues!

Life is as it is. However, when you see the horror wrought on a family who lost their beloved mother when she fell into the sea in Sea Point and ultimately drowned, leaving two pre-teen sons behind, it seems impossible to find the ability to accept it (page 1). It’s difficult not to ask, “Why? How do you move on from there?”

Suffice to say, the number of people who did everything they possibly could to save Laureen Rubin Leps was quite astonishing, as was the support from family, friends, and community.

This weekend, an adorable King David Grade 8 boy died, devastating the community. This isn’t the nature of things. Parents shouldn’t have to bury their children. The hearts of every one of us as parents reaches out to the family in support. The SA Jewish Report spent time working on this story of the community support of this family, but then pulled back this week when we got the sense we needed to wait. The last thing we want to do is to add to the family’s pain. We’re part of the community, and we wish them and the Leps family strength and to be surrounded by love.

Once again, not being on a spiritual higher plane, I simply cannot see why this needed to happen. I cannot find those answers.

All I can say or do is be there for these people and do all I can to make tomorrow a better day, however trite that may sound. We cannot bring anyone back, but we can live our own lives to the best of our ability. We can also do whatever we can for the many others in need (See page 17).

We can choose to see magic in the snow and a short time-out in the middle of traffic. We can even choose to find acceptance in having a virus.

So many people have been struck down with far worse that isn’t simple to cure. Their paths aren’t easy, but as bad as their situations are, they have a choice in how they see them. And the rest of us can give a hand to help them wherever they need it, showing them the goodness in this world.

Shabbat shalom!

Peta Krost

Editor