The first time I had heard that there is an eye, an ear, and a writing hand in heaven, I couldn’t speak yet. Every side of my family knew this, and I had many questions. This idea of an eye and ear somewhat made sense, but the writing hand was absolutely mind boggling to me as a child. What kind of actions and steps was this hand writing? How was it even possible to collect a data of all people’s steps?
Every year after the Passover, my parents would take us to my dad’s parents’ home where everyone would gather in remembrance of the deceased. This was my favorite time of the year because Spring was going on in full force and power. Mom was happy that the long snowy, muddy winter is behind and dad was simply content.
One year when we went the same as years prior, I found myself wondering around. It was a beautiful sunny but not a hot day. There was no rain that would have caused muddy roads. The wind was absent and only a little breeze caused my dress flow. I wanted to wonder off to the neighborhood down the hill to see and smell the aroma coming from the lilacs. On my way there, I admired the nature in all its beauty and had abundance of gratitude to Almighty for everything. I stopped and smelled all the flowers and roses beginning with my grandparents’ petite rose garden.
Before I got to the end of the street of my dad’s childhood home, I came across a person who admired my enthusiasm for the nature and said, “There is an eye, an ear and a writing hand of our actions in heaven”. I listened, nodded my head in agreement and continued on.
As I turned right to go down the hill, another individual stopped me, and repeated the same to which I responded, “I know!”. Everyone seemed to be on the same wavelength I thought. “Do they read each other’s mind.” Before I got to the lilacs, I wandered further than I wanted and heard a group of people discussing the same eye, ear and a writing hand. I asked them questions and joined their discussion.
After some time, I turned back towards the lilacs. I was amazed! How could everyone talk about the same thing! On my final steps towards lilacs, I repeated the same to everyone whom I had come across.
Then I came to the lilacs, and under it I admired the beauty of people sharing their thoughts. The smell of the lilacs was a brief paradise. As I recall, I questioned my extended family of this same statement trying to understand it from every angle.
In my third decade of life, I am yet to understand the physical world.
Lana Curdoglo 