Shabbat Shalom Chaverim

A common term for a person born is Israel is a ‘sabra.’ For those unfamiliar the symbolism, a sabra is the fruit of a cactus that grows in Israel. They are very prickly, but once you manage to get past the prickles to the fruit within, you can taste their sweetness. Gilly has always been the quintessential sabra. Recently, he seems to have totally lost his prickles. They simply trickled to the ground. It happened gradually upon his most recent return from Africa. I find this fascinating. I would have imagined the total opposite reaction, considering the discomforts he has to contend with.

Gilly spent the day in one of his favourite places; his garden; his pride and joy. He watered the plants and trimmed the bushes; something he has always enjoyed with every fiber of his being, but has not engaged in until today. He sounded strong each time I called home for my barometer reading.

We held Shabbat dinner at our home with the Blauer clan, speckled with caring phone calls and visits from thoughtful friends and family. I was pleased to muster up the energy to initiate the gathering. I may not have managed to get such a delicious dinner of on the table if not for loads of help and offerings from the entire family. My heart is as full as our bellies.

The week, on the whole, passed us by without incident. I have 2 days ahead of me to spend with Gilly. We’re booked to spend Saturday night with our devoted friends. We are thankful for our support system. It’s working overtime.