Umbrellas, like many other useful things in life, prove to be quite versatile. Which is how I found myself in the midst of last week’s hurricane, clutching an umbrella and waiting on a very long line. Standing beside an old brick building, I ascertained that my umbrella was fully open, forcing social distancing and protecting me from the steadily falling rain. The line snaked forward, and I tensed, patiently waiting my turn.
You see, I was waiting outside an urgent care.
And, along with all the others in front of me, I was waiting for a corona test.
The umbrella worked wonders, shielding me from the storm and ascertaining that no one came within a six foot radius in any direction. Fortunate was I that four hours later I stepped out of the urgent care, declared negative of both strep and corona. Thank G-d!
The sun broke through the clouds, both literally and figuratively, and I encountered umbrellas yet again, when I returned to camp for our grand concert. Outdoors because of corona guidelines, the concert featured a well-known singer, and amidst strains of song, a camper looked at me wonderingly.
“Why does that boy have an umbrella?” he asked, slightly confused, pointing to a boy a few feet away. “It’s not raining!”
“It’s to protect him from the sun,” I explained, and I began to wonder why I hadn’t brought one too. The same boy turned to me a few minutes later, this time distraught and edgy.
“When’s that man gonna stop singing?” he asked, bouncing on his toes. “It’s boring!!”
I burst out laughing, trying to explain that singing was the only thing he was going to do because that was the point of the entire concert…
Do we sometimes totally miss the point? Think of the past, of the future, but fail to utilize the present? We see the singer in front of us, we hear the song, but we just wait for it all to be over?
Sometimes, I feel like I’m in limbo. Sort of like I’m “waiting in line” until the next thing happens. Summer, for example, is just a tenuous string bridging last year and next; it doesn’t always feel like an entity in it of itself. But… We have to remember that we’re at a concert. The best concert out there, and we have to catch the beauty in the song of our lives. The music, such nuanced and glorious music, was composed by Hashem especially for us. Every note contains potential for growth; every beat contains potential for beauty.
Because though it may seem like we’re waiting on line, we can’t forget that we have umbrellas with us. Umbrellas that are bursting with potential, umbrellas so colorful and useful and versatile. Talents and circumstances and blessings that we can utilize RIGHT NOW! We don’t have to wait for next year, next week, or even tomorrow.
Because we might not be where we were last year. And we also might not be where we will be next year. But that doesn’t mean we can’t utilize the present and open up a new diary. The interludes in our lives can be enough to write a whole new book.
As Elul creeps upon us, we can’t afford to miss the boat. We must take advantage of this opportunity, a time that Hashem is so close, that He’s waiting with open arms for us to come home. Right now, grab this very moment, and do Teshuva. As the saying goes, there’s no time like the present!
C.M.
