Women of Valor
By: Edith Rubin
Unsung Heroes
Throughout history, we have celebrated women for their outstanding heroic deeds. Yehudis, during the Hasmonean Revolution, beheaded the Greek general while he was under the influence of wine and besotted by her beauty, thus altering the course of the war.
Lesser-known women like Gracia Mendes, a Marrano, risked her life during the Spanish Inquisition, and saved thousands of Jews.
Hannah Senesh fearlessly parachuted into Hungary, in 1944, to save Jews. She was caught, imprisoned, and ultimately executed.
Some others come to mind, who exemplified bravery, steadfastness and inner strength, traits not commonly associated with women. I am not referring only to Golda Meyer or Indira Ghandi, or even Tzipi Livni, who were able to make an impact on world events in our time.
Our Matriarchs, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah, stayed in their respective tents, out of the public eye. Through their familiar advice and counsel, reached the heights of their potential. At times Hashem intervened on their behalf, as when Sarah Imeinu, urged Avraham Avinu to make the painful decision to banish Hagar and Yishmael.
Not recorded in the annals of history, are women of noble spirit in our midst, who do not seek limelight or recognition. Their focus is centered on their homes, kvelling in their children’s achievements, using their innate wisdom to guide and teach the next generation.
Two outstanding women I know and love are paradigms of this silent heroism – Shirley and Miriam. Each of them bears a devastating illness with bravery and dignity. Shirley suffers from Parkinson’s disease, while Miriam was stricken with Lou Gehrig’s disease (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis). They both exhibit uncommon patience and emunah.
Shirley is a quiet, refined dignified lady. Her hair, makeup and nails are always perfect. Her gray-white hair, neatly frames a beautiful, unlined face belying her age. Perhaps her smile, twinkle in her clear gray eyes, and sharp comprehension compensate for the occasional slurred speech. She views her life philosophically.
Her children and grandchildren adore her as does her husband’s family, who call her “Ma,” and visit frequently.
Shirley graciously greets her many visitors and friends, comments on their attire, inquires about their families, and the places they visit. She never mentions her deteriorating condition. She enjoys life as it comes and smiles, wishing to spare her friends and family anxiety.
She remains a vivacious hostess. Her mind is clear, and absorbs and remembers details from past times. She reads constantly and is up to date on happenings around the world, especially in Israel. Lashon hara is not Shirley’s forte. She prefers to contemplate the world, resigned but not bitter.
* * * * *
My friend Miriam is only 57 years old – too young to be limited physically, by Lou Gehrig’s disease. She too is vibrant, interested in everything around her, and loves travel to exciting places. Hawaii, Spain, Israel, Budapest and Vienna, were her latest escapades, she recalls joyfully. Her husband is also an enthusiastic traveler, and I have seen many photographs, especially of Budapest, my own “alte heim” (my hometown).
Her illness caught them unawares, and their delightful lifestyle changed forever. When I visit her, she sits alone at her dinette table, arrayed with all the necessities of her impaired life. Her medicines are lined up in front of her, with applesauce to minimize the bitterness of the pills she must swallow, while awaiting patiently for her aide to arrive at noon. My friend Jeanette and I sit with her awhile.
Her telephone is in front of her along with her writing pads, her handbag on the floor. Valiantly and efficiently, Miriam manages her life.
When we ask if she needs anything before coming for a visit, she always says, “Stamps, that would be wonderful.” She writes constantly to her four children in Israel, between the frequent phone calls back and forth with them. Her home is adorned with pictures of adorable grandchildren, and mementos of her frequent travels.
Conversation with her comes easily. She is gracious, and inquires about our activities. When I hesitantly described my day of swimming, exercising in the Y, or getting ready for a granddaughter’s wedding, I think to myself how these ordinary activities seem very luxurious to me compared to her solitary life, just trying to exist and avoid unnecessary pain.
When I related a recent outing to a Broadway show, “The Producers,” under the auspices of the Y, her eyes misted over, but Miriam wanted to hear the details. “I could not do that now, in a wheelchair,” she said resignedly. “Last year, I was still able to go to a hotel over Pesach, because I was still on crutches.” She makes light of another curtailment to her mobility.
I feel these two outstanding women, Shirley and Miriam, show exceptional courage, and we should praise, honor, and look to them as examples of grace and strength of character to follow in our own lives. I also wish them “Refuah Shleima” and continued remission of their conditions.
ORIGINAL ARTICLE ME
Unsung Heroes
Throughout history, we have celebrated women for their outstanding heroic deeds. Yehudis, during the Hasmonean Revolution, beheaded the Greek general while he was under the influence of wine and besotted by her beauty, thus altering the course of the war.
Lesser-known women like Gracia Mendes, a Marrano, risked her life during the Spanish Inquisition, and saved thousands of Jews.
Hannah Senesh fearlessly parachuted into Hungary, in 1944, to save Jews. She was caught, imprisoned, and ultimately executed.
Some others come to mind, who exemplified bravery, steadfastness and inner strength, traits not commonly associated with women. I am not referring only to Golda Meyer or Indira Ghandi, or even Tzipi Livni, who were able to make an impact on world events in our time.
Our Matriarchs, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah, stayed in their respective tents, out of the public eye. Through their familiar advice and counsel, reached the heights of their potential. At times Hashem intervened on their behalf, as when Sarah Imeinu, urged Avraham Avinu to make the painful decision to banish Hagar and Yishmael.
Not recorded in the annals of history, are women of noble spirit in our midst, who do not seek limelight or recognition. Their focus is centered on their homes, kvelling in their children’s achievements, using their innate wisdom to guide and teach the next generation.
Two outstanding women I know and love are paradigms of this silent heroism – Shirley and Miriam. Each of them bears a devastating illness with bravery and dignity. Shirley suffers from Parkinson’s disease, while Miriam was stricken with Lou Gehrig’s disease (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis). They both exhibit uncommon patience and emunah.
Shirley is a quiet, refined dignified lady. Her hair, makeup and nails are always perfect. Her gray-white hair, neatly frames a beautiful, unlined face belying her age. Perhaps her smile, twinkle in her clear gray eyes, and sharp comprehension compensate for the occasional slurred speech. She views her life philosophically.
“Hashem was good to me,” she says when speaking about her second husband. “Hashem gave me two wonderful husbands.” There is no bitterness of being widowed early and starting anew. Her husband is an exceptional man, kind and caring, and a great “talmid chacham.”Meeting Shirley casually, one can hardly discern the ravaging effects of her illness. She never complains about her frequent hospitalizations or stays in Rehab facilities. She patiently endures any impairments that further reduce her physical activities.
Her children and grandchildren adore her as does her husband’s family, who call her “Ma,” and visit frequently.
Shirley graciously greets her many visitors and friends, comments on their attire, inquires about their families, and the places they visit. She never mentions her deteriorating condition. She enjoys life as it comes and smiles, wishing to spare her friends and family anxiety.
She remains a vivacious hostess. Her mind is clear, and absorbs and remembers details from past times. She reads constantly and is up to date on happenings around the world, especially in Israel. Lashon hara is not Shirley’s forte. She prefers to contemplate the world, resigned but not bitter.
* * * * *
My friend Miriam is only 57 years old – too young to be limited physically, by Lou Gehrig’s disease. She too is vibrant, interested in everything around her, and loves travel to exciting places. Hawaii, Spain, Israel, Budapest and Vienna, were her latest escapades, she recalls joyfully. Her husband is also an enthusiastic traveler, and I have seen many photographs, especially of Budapest, my own “alte heim” (my hometown).
Her illness caught them unawares, and their delightful lifestyle changed forever. When I visit her, she sits alone at her dinette table, arrayed with all the necessities of her impaired life. Her medicines are lined up in front of her, with applesauce to minimize the bitterness of the pills she must swallow, while awaiting patiently for her aide to arrive at noon. My friend Jeanette and I sit with her awhile.
Her telephone is in front of her along with her writing pads, her handbag on the floor. Valiantly and efficiently, Miriam manages her life.
When we ask if she needs anything before coming for a visit, she always says, “Stamps, that would be wonderful.” She writes constantly to her four children in Israel, between the frequent phone calls back and forth with them. Her home is adorned with pictures of adorable grandchildren, and mementos of her frequent travels.
Conversation with her comes easily. She is gracious, and inquires about our activities. When I hesitantly described my day of swimming, exercising in the Y, or getting ready for a granddaughter’s wedding, I think to myself how these ordinary activities seem very luxurious to me compared to her solitary life, just trying to exist and avoid unnecessary pain.
When I related a recent outing to a Broadway show, “The Producers,” under the auspices of the Y, her eyes misted over, but Miriam wanted to hear the details. “I could not do that now, in a wheelchair,” she said resignedly. “Last year, I was still able to go to a hotel over Pesach, because I was still on crutches.” She makes light of another curtailment to her mobility.
I feel these two outstanding women, Shirley and Miriam, show exceptional courage, and we should praise, honor, and look to them as examples of grace and strength of character to follow in our own lives. I also wish them “Refuah Shleima” and continued remission of their conditions.
ORIGINAL ARTICLE ME
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