This happened during the Rosh Hashanah prayer.
I sat in the synagogue with the help of the women and listened to the melodious and moving prayer, and then, the door creaked and they started to enter one by one.
""Mom, I don't have a lollipop in my bag, but Dad does.".
The girl followed him: "Mom, my blessing is moving away, I can't watch over him.".
Then another child: "Mom, you promised to take us to the garden later.".
And finally, the eldest of the group: "Mom, show me what they say during menstruation.".
Mother and mother and mother, and every call of "mother" distracts from the prayer and is disruptive, makes it impossible to hear - and annoying.
Honestly, the word "annoying" is more appropriate than anything I mentioned before.
Every mother who stands in prayer thinks to herself: "I left the children with my husband who went to the Vatican, just so I could hear the prayer, and here, without shame, mother and mother and mother, this is simply impudent!"
At this point, the women began to whisper: "Sh..sh..sh..""
And when that didn't help, someone approached and asked in a quiet voice: "Quiet!""
And when that didn't help either, the surprised and angry faces started, and the children didn't understand, and the children's mother just, f-f
As the prayer continued, I felt how difficult it was for me to pray and concentrate, because even though this mother had already left the scene with her group of annoying people, I still reflected on this maternal impudence and said to myself:
""It's good that my grandchildren play in the nearby garden, the 8-year-old with the 4-year-old, they play in peace and quiet and know that they won't disturb grandma for anything in the world, because grandma is praying, and the other praying women want to concentrate. And even if my grandchildren were to come in, I told myself, they would already know how to behave.".
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Then, in a moment of heavy silence and a choking sensation in the throat, the door to the women's aid opens, and this time not with a creak but with a bang, and the head of an 8-year-old girl sticks out, and then the cry is heard: "Grandma, Jonathan fell off the swing, he's bleeding!""
And the call is addressed to me, yes, unbelievably, to their grandmother.
No woman from the Women's Aid could miss this call. I picked up my feet and hurried to the garden, worried and irritated, looking at the swing - and it was gone.
""Where is he?" I direct my question to the 8-year-old. "Where did he go? Why did you leave him alone?""
The girl searches and suddenly discovers:
""Here he is!""
Now I see it too. He's on the slide.
""Here I am," Jonathan cheers from above. "Grandma, look at me!""
No blood, no blow, not even a cry or a slight sigh.
I returned to the Women's Aid, promising myself that during the Yom Kippur prayer, even if 50 children came and attacked my prayer together, I would not let the bad thoughts take over me.
No mother is a bad mother. No grandmother is a grandmother who does it on purpose.
Right, that shouldn't happen. What's the question?
People come to the synagogue to pray and not for any other reason.
But if something happens and she suddenly hears a cry of "Mom!" in the middle of prayer, I will not condemn that mother to duty.
I promise.
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