The father realized that his nine-year-old daughter was not robotically mimicking the motions taught to her by her morah. His daughter fully understood every word.
It was Seder night.
The youngest in the family, Chizkiyahu, had just opened the door for Shefoch Chamasecha and the fourth cup was poured. All the children were gathered around the table in their modest home, everyone was satiated from the delicious meal their mother had prepared, and now it was time to sit back and sing Hallel to Hashem.
As his children began the sweet songs of Dovid Hamelech, Reb Meir took a moment to scan the room. Seeing his children singing praises of gratitude to Hashem, he felt himself overflowing with feelings of thanks toward the One Who redeems us.
Reb Meir lovingly remembered his childhood home and the Sedorim of his youth, and the presence of his paternal grandparents and his maternal grandfather at the family Sedorim. He particularly felt the absence of his beloved paternal grandmother, lovingly referred to as Bubby.
Four decades earlier, he had become her first grandchild, and he learned the importance of family from her. Now he fondly recalled Bubby’s shining face when she reveled in her matriarchal role while basking in the joy of being surrounded by her family.
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