In rare moments of silence I would ask myself: Where is the simchah in all of this?

Many years ago before I grew too old for costumes and candies Purim was a deliriously happy day.
But one day I suddenly found myself all grown-up. The excited little girl in her kallah gown became a mature newlywed skillfully constructing mishloach manos setting a beautiful table for the seudah keeping the house presentable for the devoted visiting students … and in rare moments of silence I would ask myself: Where is the simchah in all of this?
The passing years brought small children and adorable costumes into my home. I wake up early on Purim morning long before the queen the clown the candy man and the Hatzolah medic to cram in an early morning Shacharis. But my heart is still searching for simchah. The question resonates deep within me: Why is this day different from all the other holidays Hashem gave us? And how do I truly rejoice?
All year I strive to notice what I’m lacking and where I should be headed. Every night I tell myself — in my most encouraging voice — Tomorrow! Tomorrow I’ll be calmer more in control more diligent.
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