We're sure our perception is truth — but is it?
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ineteen-year-old Slovi, an in-town gal, has just become a kallah. She’s flying to her chassan’s home out-of-town for the first time. She’s excited to get to know her prospective in-laws. Her chassan’s easygoing, and she’s curious to see if his home is different from her tension-filled one.
It’s an interesting Shabbos, and on Sunday, at the engagement party, she gets a taste of out of town, which seems so quaint to her. Family friends come the day of the simchah bearing various dishes for the party. Mrs. Kaplinsky brings cream cheese balls shaped like roses, and Mrs. Perlstein brings her signature tuna fish salad molded into the shape of a fish.
Slovi takes it all in with a smile. On Monday morning, as she’s eating breakfast with her future mother-in-law, Slovi thanks her for a wonderful stay, commenting how much she enjoyed being in their relaxed home. Her mother-in-law responds, “Honey, you’re looking at the world through rose-colored lenses because you’re a kallah.”
We all have a set of lenses through which we filter sensory input. It’s those lenses that determine the meaning we ascribe to our experiences. The lenses can be positive, as in Slovi’s case, or they can be negative.
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