When Did All The Potatoes Rot?

This did not just happen, by the way, this is my life, day-to-day. Small scenarios just like this one. Today, I felt like documenting it.

It is unfair, I tell you. One minute they were fine, the next bruised and stinking up the vegetable cabinet. The house, being closed up all day, incubated that stink so that when I came home and opened the door – booyah! I was hit with the most horrific smell that I could remember. I felt like retching. I felt like running. I felt ill. Why potatoes, why? Was it my fault entirely? I thought I left you enough air. I bought you with great intentions for mash, or to fry and even bake but you turned on me so quickly.

And such is my corny life. Moms, who work, need to – no make that, MUST blame other factors when things go wrong. On the one hand, everything is our fault but on the other, if I am to blame for one.more.THING I’ll go mad. Yes, I will. Legit mad, not like, oh, I broke my nail after a manicure, *sob*. Like red-faced, dragon-breathed, holy-cow-take-cover mad. And then just like that we’re back, smiling and having found inner peace/our happy place. As a newly married woman I recall a phone conversation with my sister-in-law (Please forgive me, I love you). She was pleasant – then crazy, screaming at one of her 10 (at the time) children, then back to pleasant. I thought her behavior was absurd – so Jekyll and Hyde. Then I had children and completely related. I remember having a conversation with one of my best friends deciding whose house we were going to commiserate at since our children were small and misery loves company, when I looked over and saw my 2 yr. old poking my baby’s eyes. So I started screaming something like, “that’s naughty – stop that right now!” (Yeah, like a 2-year-old cares – negative attention is just as good as positive at that age). 3 seconds later I came back to the conversation as if nothing happened – when it was her turn, “no, no, NO – do NOT spill the milk on my carpet!!!” And then she came back to the conversation with, “Anyway, so how fast can you get here?”

I often find myself wondering when something goes wrong, (oh, and by the way? that’s like every other five minutes). Was it me? Was it something I said? Or did? Or felt? Or thought? A look I gave? I look I tried to hide? Was it my breath? Did I even brush my teeth today? I often get distracted (not that I don’t think dental hygiene is extremely important). But, as you’ll probably connect here, moms NEVER get any private time. If I had more private time I could probably be more organized and avoid having things go wrong, Alas, it’s almost inevitable, the second that bathroom door shuts? Someone is wailing or whining or crying or banging or begging to see you. They NEED you. They have to have that conversation right at THAT moment.

*Sigh*

Take 2. Children are such a blessing. They make some trouble for us entering the world and until they figure this life-outside-the-womb thing it’s a bit rocky, but then when all things have calmed down, they bring absolute joy to those lucky enough to be around them. Their cherubic angelic faces brighten the day with their toothless gummy grins and smelling like vanilla or lavender as we rub our lips over their precious fuzzy heads. They make us laugh when they try to stand and fall with a plop and slow-mo roll-over mid-air as their weight pulls them down. They lift our spirits when they make up words like “agaza” and you’re supposed to know that it means ceiling fan. Their make your chest swell with pride when they finally get down the hill on their bike without falling or getting the solo in the school concert or graduating or offering to help when no one asks.

And then, someone touched someone else. Heaven Forbid. Should THAT ever happen, here is the method I generally subscribe to and am convinced that until there is physical contact in a non-playful way – it’s a must use. It’s called conflict resolution. It’s something I learned in a particular college course, in one of the many business classes I took for Business Management that taught the topic of supervisor-subordinate mediation but works as well peer-to-peer.  (I know that sounded super smart  – sometimes I use the old noodle for more than remembering to make dentist appointments). I learned that wherever choices exist there is potential for disagreement. Throw kids in the mix, well – you’ll get sibling rivalry a lot! Knowing how to deal with a given situation when a disagreement occurs is a life lesson worth teaching. He did not HAVE to touch her – but of course he did. She did not have to have ketchup-breath, but of course she did. And this is how it begins, a he-said/she-said scenario with escalated voices and flushed cheeks leading up to an inevitable shove or push or kick or imaginary swipe of a fake light saber in the general vicinity causing tumult and wreaking havoc. (And breathe mommy, it’s almost bedtime). After giving these children an opportunity to sort out their differences in a safe and non-partisan area, using indoor voices, I promised French Fries to all who made amends. And it was quiet. Was it bribery or a reward? – Do I consult my last copy of Parenting circa 2010? All I knew is that it worked. And it was quiet…until I opened the cabinet and remembered there were no more potatoes. Dammit.

When Really Sad Things Happen

This week has been so incredibly confusing and I am literally exhausted. Emotionally spent.  Every day we are tested with life’s ups and downs and we deal with things as they hit us.

On a “normal” day, kids wake up late, the cereal gets knocked on its side spilling its contents  all over the kitchen floor, an ice pop melted brings piles of ants parading through your home. You miss a bus, your hosiery gets snagged on a zipper, you get a paper cut, you have a migraine. You catch a glimpse of someone flying a kite, a child runs back to give you that one last hug, the flowers in your garden are blooming. You reach the bottom of the laundry basket, your boss gives you a compliment, your kids make dinner, you lost a few pounds.

When something negative and unexpected happens though, you kind of get stuck in this OMG moment. It throws you and can affect the rest of your day in a way that is confusing and upsetting and even if you have other reasons to smile, the day is slightly tainted.

A couple of days ago this world lost a soul that never knew the power of evil. She was well cared for, loved from beginning to end, and the amount of lives she touched just by being born reached international proportions. Her life was not an easy one, filled with daily challenges and we all prayed that each day would bring her comfort and better health.

So I sat shocked as I read the email. I was unprepared for the final blow. How was it possible? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. What happened? Why did G-d do this? We all prayed daily for this to have a better outcome. We all waited for the miracle. I was so sure it would be okay. There was this lingering confusion as the day progressed. One one hand my friend lost her 2-year-old, but I had to prepare for another friend’s wedding, at the same time my father was en route for a medical procedure. All 3 events, the funeral, the procedure, the wedding all happening at the same time of day threw me into emotional overload. My happiness was tainted yet I never cried. Until today.  Today, nothing in particular happened. There were no parties, there were no surgeries, the dust sort of settled and I had time to process it all.

My heart is so heavy and I am terribly saddened that my friend’s baby has left this world.  I had the privilege when I was visiting the states to visit her in the ICU, to hold her hand, to sing to her. It came as no surprise that my friend offered to drive me all the way home.  I could have taken a train I told her, just drop me off at a station…but she would not have it. Ever since I have known her, she ha shad a way of giving of herself that is all about helping others. She organizes and plans and succeeds in producing amazing results. Be it money for the needy, activities for children, a night of special treatment for busy moms, all while raising her own children, all while caring for this special needs baby, and supporting her husband’s academic achievements. I am positive that no one’s life is ever completely stress free – though some live an easier life than others.  She has always been an example to me on how to spend one’s time wisely and to the fullest…but this, this is heart-wrenching. There never seems to be enough words to express sorrow to another mother suffering the loss of her baby, never having gone through the same situation. I cry for the opportunities this child never had. I cry for the parents who, even with having 2 other children who are healthy, will never see this beautiful baby thrive.

I have these picture in my mind that I cannot stop thinking about. Pictures they posted on Facebook so we, who live far away, could follow their lives, that are sort of like a slide show that keeps playing over and over again. One of daddy holding her and she was smiling. One of big brother with both baby sisters at his sides. The one of her with her birthday cake and flowered headband. There is a part of me that is relieved for the parents. There will be no more nights of worrying if she’ll stop breathing or running for emergency surgeries. They can focus 100% on healthy children that are thriving and continuing to grow steadily. While they have a horrible week of mourning ahead of them, knowing they have touched the lives of so many people there will be no shortage of visitors during this time, offering them comfort.

However, I am not there. I can not offer any hugs or hold anyone’s hand. I can sit here and cry. I can not begin to imagine how it feels to lose the life of a child. Just the thought is so overpowering, I break down and cry. I know G-d is compassionate and that this child suffers no more. I pray that of all the people going to pay their respects there is some comfort for the grieving family.  I pray that they are in a place of acceptance and are comforted by the fact they no one needs to suffer this unfairness any longer. It is evident based on the time and effort these parents took to care and love this child, that they did everything in their power to protect and get the best medical experts to monitor her life. We were updated and given the opportunity to share in their lives. We were blessed to be a part of her life. I had many friends praying for this soul and to have to share the news to them, the thought was daunting – how do I tell them? So many responded with words of shock, of sadness, of apology and never even met my friends and their baby.  The power to touch so many lives is amazing.

To know that I had this small impact and the message reached so many people to help in any way they could give me some small comfort. I will share these thoughts with the mourning parents and I look forward to sharing happier messages in the future.

Da Toof Fairy

I love him. In all his 5-year-old glory. With permanent markered hand art and all.

Self portrait on the left posing as…. Triangle Man.

He has a wiggly tooth and we had a conversation that went like this:

Mommy: Wow! Your tooth is loose, looks like the tooth fairy is gonna’ visit you soon!

Triangle Man: Da Toof Fairy?

Mommy: No, THe tooTH fairy

Triangle Man: Why?

Mommy: Because when a tooth falls out, we put in under our pillow, and while we are sleeping she comes to visit and takes the tooth and leaves us money.

Triangle Man: So we can buy more teef?

Mommy: No, so we can buy whatever prize we want.

Triangle Man: I want a race car prize.

Mommy: She only gives a little bit of money for a small prize.

Triangle Man: Okay, I want a small race car with a remote.

Mommy: That’s an expensive prize.

Triangle Man: But that’s what I need.

Mommy: You NEED food, you NEED to drink water,  you NEED to stop using permanent marker on your skin. You WANT the race car.

Triangle Man: Yes, that’s what I said. Can I have it now? In red? And blue? And Lightening McQueen? And wait, Mommy, look, mommy. Will she wake me up?

Mommy: No, she is very quiet. She flies in and is very gentle.

Triangle Man: Does she has pockets for da monies? I like pockets, mommy.

Mommy: I know you do. Should we pick your clothes out for tomorrow? It’s getting late.

Triangle Man: And she needs to fly here to give me da monies?

Mommy: No, not tonight, your tooth is only wiggly. She’ll come when the tooth falls out.

Triangle Man: What if I don’t catch it when it falls?

Mommy: Well, it doesn’t really fall, we’ll have to pull it out.

Triangle Man: No sanks. I don’t like dat idea. Then I’ll have bleed. I don’t like bleed, mommy.

Mommy: It would only bleed for a minute and don’t worry I’ll be there and will make it all better.

Triangle Man: I know how you can me feel better…with a race car, a blue one, a red one and a Lightening McQueen one.

Mommy: I’ll talk with the tooth fairy and see what I can do.

Triangle Man: You have her number?

Mommy: (this is getting out of hand I need to switch gears or this convo can go all night long with me making up more stories) Yeah Sure , now want to talk about what you did today?

Triangle Man: I colored me on my hand and on dis one and here and over here and even here!

Mommy: I know, that was not a good thing to do, we are supposed to ONLY color on the paper and YOU are not supposed to use my special markers.

Triangle Man: See how in dis one I’m smiling? I’m happy at you Mommy because I love you and you’re not angry at me because you love me. I’m tired now.

Mommy: Me too snuggle bunny, time to go to sleep.

With butterfly kisses, and about 5 various delaying tactics he finally settled down and talked to his soft  Buzz Light Year telling him not to shoot the toof fairy when she comes. “She is our friend”.I love him. In all his 5-year-old glory. With permanent markered hand art and all.

When The Answer Is No

I want. Gimme. It’s not fair! I hate you!

I remember saying these things at one point in my life. I also remember the responses.

You can’t have. Not now. No, it isn’t. That’s okay. 

When we want something so badly sometimes our vision gets blurred and we see that ‘no’ as a roadblock to what we feel we deserve or need or just simply really want. 

Most parents will see the above and connect. Cranky (or spoiled) children who want more candy, or to stay up late, or beg for a million unnecessary reasons to get out of their beds at night will make mom and dad super annoyed. Parents have a certain amount of patience and when it runs out, watch out kids…that is the end of the world as you know it. 

What happens though when it’s the adults that are the ones asking or begging or declaring? 

I want. Gimme. It’s not fair! I hate you.

What happens when the answers are the same? What happens when G-d answers this way?

You can’t have. Not now. No, it isn’t. That’s okay. Will there be a time when He says, enough is enough? The answer sometimes is just, no. But those who believe in G-d know that He has compassion and even if we reject Him and feel hatred towards Him, He is forgiving, just like any decent parent as long as we show remorse.

I want to be financially stable. Gimme a chance at a job that can actually support my family. It’s not fair that I need to ask for help month to month.

I want good health. Gimme a sign that this will pass. It’s not fair that I must endure this pain. 

There are lots more examples. When frustration turns to bitter anger the downward spiral begins breeding hatred. 

No one likes to hear the answer no. Why must honest and good people be denied? Denied the opportunity to get a second interview? Denied health benefits or tax breaks? Denied a credit card? Denied a scholarship? Sometimes it seems the hurdles are so hard when they should feel easier. A hardworking individual must sometimes bear larger burdens than those that are born wealthy or healthy. 

Were misguided children, or those that were constantly indulged any better off than those that were constantly denied? No they, both breed a negative response.

There needs to be a healthy balance between receiving what we need and what we want. While its important to have goals and desires, we must also keep these in check. We must know there are limits and that sometimes there are things beyond one’s control that may determine what the end result becomes. Sure, the ‘don’t let anyone tell you your dreams are not attainable’ message is a good one. We set for ourselves time frames. When we don’t achieve the response we are looking for, in the time we allot for ourselves, we can get discouraged but need to have a good support system. Perhaps a friend or a colleague or a parent that whispers in our ear, ‘okay, that didn’t work – now let’s try something else’.

There is always a lesson to be learned. In everything. We may not like the process, in fact it may be painful and hard to understand or see the clarity until the dust settles and there is that light at the end of the tunnel…or someone wins the lottery… or gets the kidney. 

Not everyone believes in G-d. Not everyone is as deserving as they think. As upsetting as it is to hear or feel the answer ‘no, not yet’, we deal with it. Bang some tables, kick some doors, scream, cry, dwell…until we calm down. We reflect, we reorganize our thoughts, our actions, and begin again, differently. We are an ever evolving species and as smart as we get, the more we know, the harder it is for us to come to grips with the unknown.  It makes the negative reactions/responses/remarks that much harder to absorb and digest.

These are the times and the things that make us work harder, think better, and eventually succeed. Either getting the raise, winning the odds at the lottery, meeting the right doctor, asking please, being polite, waiting our turns, closing our eyes at bedtime, or just simply accepting that ‘no’ as another opportunity to work on ourselves, our behavior, our interactions with each other. Perhaps this is a time to accept that there is a higher power than ours and we must succumb to the fact that we don’t always have the answer because we are not meant to find out. 

I think it’s okay not to know everything about all things. I am curious and the older I get the more I want to know. But I also accept that I don’t deserve to know or to get everything I may want. Sometimes the things that we want so badly, a baby, a promotion, a cheese cracker, may not be good for us. Only after the fact do we most often have clarity. This is what makes it so hard. I often think, if I could just know what the end result would be whether it be for the good or the bad it would make the process of enduring it that much better.

I just reminded myself of the labor and birth of my first baby…the unknown was far worse. Not recognizing what a contraction would feel like or the amount of time it would be from beginning to end…of course these are all part of a very positive outcome, but the pain in between – that was awful. This is not meant to be a holy piece about G-d and Rebirth – or anything religious, it’s a piece on endurance and acceptance. Sometimes though we try to do things differently, the answer sometimes will still be, ‘no’. And that just needs to be okay. 

 

The Teenager: Starring The Boy

 

Once upon a time there was a baby born unto his parents. He was named The Boy. He looked like an angel with a head of blonde hair that grew long and shiny and beautiful. He had long dark lashes and bright blue eyes with the cutest button-nose.

The Boy exceeded all their expectations. He was talking before Dr. Spock said he would. He walked at 11 months and aptly learned how to take a video, place it in the VCR, watch it, rewind it and watch again before his parents woke up on an early Sunday morning, at just 2 years old.

He was sporty and funny and smiled from ear to ear almost every day. He was 15 months old when he had to share his parents with a new one. She was called The Beauty. The Beauty took after the boy, even though she sported a mullet much to her parents chagrin. She was a fair maiden with the smallest of chins and the brightest blue eyes and perfect pink lips. She too learned early on how to walk, talk and master 2 languages at a young 3 years old.

It was when The Beauty was a mere 2 and 1/2 years old and The Boy not much older that The Baby was born. Different was this child. Her hair was darker and her mother became ill. She learned early on how to fend for herself. The Boy was affectionate in the most aggressive way, so she was watched over more carefully but like her older siblings was fast on the move and ready to talk way before her peers. At ages 4, 3, and 1 they were brought to a new place to thrive. The Land Of Flowing Milk And Honey. The Baby’s hair changed to be flaxen like the others and they were smiled upon wherever they journeyed.

Alas, the children grew older in harmonious synchronicity and entertained themselves in the new foreign land. A year later however their lives were altered once more. It was then that their parents had a change of heart. Witnessing each of their personal characteristics there was to be an official name change. There was another fair-headed child brought into their lives. They became, The Boy, The Brain, The Beauty and The Baby. The Boy sang solos and won the hearts of many. The Brain was poised and praised for her thoughtfulness and modest demeanor. The Beauty was fawned over wherever she went for she was breathtaking and women yearned to touch her golden coils that winded thickly down her back . The Baby had cheeks that were plump and ripe for grabbing and as she grew that was all that remained for she was petite and dainty.

The Baby was smothered with kisses by The Boy and The Beauty, while The Brain observed all the time learning responsibility and gaining more wisdom. She acted with kindness and modesty in all her endeavors. The Boy taught himself to read and was gaining respect as a future academic. The Beauty was rambunctious and adventurous and was often found needing stitches for her daring activities. The Baby watched her older siblings and was a very quiet child that was in no hurry to move, to walk or to talk. They lived this way for almost a full five years when again the parents brought new life into their home.

So was born The Brother. The Boy was ecstatic. Another just like him. He wanted to teach him to walk, to run, to play ball, to read, to eat. There was nothing that The Boy wouldn’t do to help out The Brother. Until…The Brother wanted to play with his toys. Until, The Brother wanted to hug his brown bear. Until, The Brother wanted to drive his train or build his blocks or shoot the bad guy. Until his mother gave into The Brother because he was just so cute. The Brother got away with everything and life became unfair. The Boy was asked to be more responsible. The Boy was asked to act more maturely. The Boy was begged not to act so selfishly. The Boy was tired of the noise all his sisters would make.

The Boy grew taller and broader and when his voice became deep he used it to his advantage. He shared his every thought with anyone who was around him. He slammed doors and shouted. The Boy wanted to be treated like an adult yet cried at the unfairness of being asked to help out. The Boy complained about taking out the garbage. The Boy whined when he was being forced to clean up his room. The Boy disapproved of having to set the table. The Boy objected that he needed to shower every night.

The parents were weary. The Brain was sensitive. The Beauty was indifferent. The Baby was indignant. The Brother was antagonistic.

So on August 1, 2012 the mother decided it was time for a change. The Boy was officially to become The Teenager. A party was to be had. The memory of his birth came to the forefront of her mind and appropriately purchased an angel-food cake for when he was born that is what she had seen (in her morphined state), a blurry star-burst of flourescent rays shining behind her blonde angel. A festive Italian dinner was prepared from the depths of their finest freezer. While there was chanting “pizza, pizza”, the mother prepared the dessert created by her best friends, Ben & Jerry. With absolute giddiness the lights were no longer lit. The room was aglow with assorted colorful candles and the singing began. Powdered sugar sprayed everywhere as the Teenager blew out his candles. All cheered in sacchariferous [sak-uh-rif-er-uhs] delight.

A good time was had by all, the Teenager was happy and all was right on their hilltop that evening. From ancient times throughout the history of mankind we have learned that The Teenager will yell at will and be quite temperamental. The mother, also known as the peacemaker, was pleased to enter this phase with a smiling and pleasant child *even though at 10:45 pm, said child is still awake and invading her personal space (she smiles through gritted teeth).

The End

 

I Know You, But We’ve Never Met

 

Saturday Night! Time to PARTY!! Or in my reality based lame high-school life watch Saturday Night Live whilst living in America and here in Israel really means time to fill the dishwasher. I know, I’m a wild card…

It is a strange thing to have been at a party for someone you’ve never met. I mean it’s one thing to tag along with a friend and even though you feel like a third wheel or act like a wall flower there is the possibility that you might meet someone new, or at least eavesdrop into a really cool conversation.

Because I was super popular in high school, as mentioned before, I think I went to a total of 2 parties, not including the sweet 16’s. I mean real parties; no parents, music, dancing, people pulling off into private corners for who knows what…well I really had no clue ‘what’ at the time. Now that I think about it, one was a fairly tame graduation party where the parents were present and it was still daylight. However, that ONE party that I did go to included going in a car, driven by my friends, to a really fancy house, with cool colored lights bordering the driveway. The front yard had real landscaping, not mother’s day sprouts in a 6th grade homemade earthenware pot by the front door, but real palm trees and in the backyard a patio with a pool and lights that wreaked of wealth or a really good architect. Even though I knew mostly everyone there I was truly out of my comfort zone. The hostess and I were not close friends and I don’t even think we spoke more than a few times all throughout high school but the whole class was invited and my friends dragged me along.

This was not my only experience participating in someone’s get together where I really did not know the main person the party was being held for. When I was 18, I along with my other 4 shana bet (2nd yr studying in Israel) classmates were invited to our rebbe’s son’s bris, at a yeshiva, FULL of guys, and I probably do not need to express how uncomfortable we were. We stuck out like a vegetarian at a steakhouse (not that there is anything wrong with that). We must have spent hours with our curling irons, hair dryers, diffusers, bottles of mousse, gel, de-frizzer, lip gloss, what have you…and WE DID NOT EVEN KNOW ANYONE! (Besides the new dad). What’s even more weird – or not so much because it did happen to me – was that I was at this same little boy’s bar mitzvah 13 yrs later, after I made aliyah with my husband, and 3 children. I listened at both of these smachot (happy occasions) to others praise the little boy and all he was about to accomplish, how he was destined for greatness and how the contributions he was about to make to the Jewish world were magnanimous! No pressure, kid, good luck with all that!

In the last year I have had the privilege yet again to be at 2 gatherings for someone I never even met, but walked away truly knowing. There was a new neighbor, someone who created small amounts of fame by sharing her story with others and while I had heard of this women a few times she was new to my block and I was eager to meet her. We had happened to have met randomly in the supermarket and talked about banal things and shared a quick laugh. I had heard a short while later that her husband had died from an illness, leaving her alone with 3 children. In my amazing community we all banded together as we always do, pitching in during the good times and the bad. I decided to participate in the funeral. I cried and cried which may seem strange for I did not know this woman, I did not know this man, I did not know these children. But I am a friend, I am a wife and I am a mother. I cried for all these reasons. Her pain was tangible and as I listened to the loved ones talk about this wonderful man it became personal. So an unspoken connection began. I went to visit her that week and was greeted by one of her daughters outside the house who looked up at me, a complete stranger, and asked me simply, “are you here to see my mom?”, I responded yes obviously, and her response just blew me away. “That’s good, because she is really sad, and you have a nice face, you’ll make her feel better.” I entered the house and just sat. I don’t even think I spoke more than a sentence. I just listened. Listened to more stories about what a great father he was. What a great brother-in-law/husband/friend he was. I was connected and wanted to get to know them better.

I had a chance to host the children and mother once for a shabbos meal and my life was made richer for it. Tonight, one year later there was an azkara (memorial ceremony) for this gentleman. I cried and cried. It was personal. I listened to his mother-in-law speak about him (and generally these relationships aint the greatest) but she felt she had gained a son when he married her daughter. I cried along with her. Since tissues were kept close to the immediate family, I was so thankful when someone finally passed around the napkins. Those napkins, taken from the beautiful table decked with all sorts of delicious food and candles. The ambiance on the porch with a string of lights above and all our neighborhood friends seemed to be a gathering of festivities. The mother spoke to her children in their father’s words, praising them, encouraging them, sending love through their very wise and sensitive mother. With kindness she spoke and with humor. And I cried. Now, that’s no great surprise since I cry at almost EVERYTHING (even kleenex commercials). I connect easily. This was personal. I left as someone was playing a soulful song on a guitar wishing all those I passed a good week. I cried all the way home. It seemed like it took forever to make it up the hill. After a year there is supposed to be a sense of closure. I felt raw because though we had never met, I knew him, and it was painful.

I thought a while before putting my thoughts down. Why would I cry so much for someone I never actually met? This shabbos I heard a great rav speak about the power we have just by smiling at someone and greeting them. Even if you do not know the person, by taking but a few seconds to acknowledge another person’s existence, one has the ability to affect how that day will continue. I could have very easily never made a point to meet this new neighbor. No one would have chastised me if I had chosen not to attend the funeral. Our lives are busy and it would not have seemed unfriendly if I had never invited her family for a meal. But I took the time, and it was never a lot of actual time, a minute here, 30 there, 1-2 hours tops. Sometimes that smile or simple hello will help the other person, but I can guarantee it will always make you feel good. How many people will you have the ability to affect daily? How many will I? Challenge extended…