Crying It Out

I felt a certain confidence in my emunah, a certain reassurance that when it comes down to it, I must have some strong faith if I subconsciously accept that I can’t possibly understand why Hashem does what He does. And the truth is, I wouldn’t want to, because a G-d I could understand wouldn’t be a G-d to Whom I could submit.

But all of this self-assured confidence in my own faith went out the window on Simchas Torah this year, the day forever to be remembered as the October 7 massacre. As news trickled in and then turned to a deluge, the horrific details threatened to drown me as they pulled and tore at my heart and soul. Suddenly, I found myself questioning our all-knowing Father. How could He let such incredible atrocities happen? How could a human being or a nation be expected to survive this kind of torture?

Marinating in our collective grief, I felt connected to every single Jew, but somehow pulled further and further from He Who Knows All. Like all of us, I struggle with the fact that somehow, life has to continue. I still need to feed the kids and pack their lunches, send them off to school and put them to sleep. And, my current struggle — I still have to wake up multiple times a night with my baby-turned-toddler.

I used to be a big proponent of sleep training, reading all the books and blogs about creating schedules and eventually weaning the baby until she slept through the night. For my first bunch of kids, I tried it. I suffered through the crying and winced through the pushback, because I knew it would pay off with better sleep for all of us.