These words are coming from my heart.
B’H, over the past while, there has been an awakening to the fact that our singles out there need a support network.
Several initiatives have been established to give them a place to turn to for chizzuk. I know of Ohel Sarala who made that beautiful gathering last week, as well as LinkUp Nook from Penimi. I am sure there are inroads being made into that issue that I am unaware of. That is wonderful and much needed.
However, I feel that there is a demographic of people whose pain is overlooked, or perhaps not fully appreciated, and that is the mothers of our wonderful singles. Primarily girls, as single boys who struggle to find their bashert, most often do have shidduchim redt to them. Sometimes it takes a very long time until the right girl comes along, but this sense of being completely invisible to the world exists largely for our young ladies.
I feel very alone in this journey and have written this poem to express my feelings. I would be honored if you would print it, to spread chizzuk to the thousands of mothers who feel the same way I do.
Ode to the mothers:
Here’s to you mothers, you know who you are-
Who hold it together from near and from far.
The moms of a daughter, or two, perhaps 3
That watch as their girls think ‘Why can’t it be me?’
‘When will it be my turn?’ They think with a sigh ,
As their life and the world seems to just rush on by
With nary a glance to be coming their way,
Their heart rips to shreds as they wait day by day.
And we, as the moms of this wonderful gem,
Well, all we can do is to turn to Hashem.
We plead and beseech, and we try to hold tight
To emunah, bitachon with all of our might.
We daven, say nishmas, give tzedaka and more,
Waiting for the one guy to walk through the door.
But how will he come, how can it be?
When it seems like my daughter the world does not see…
We mothers, we just want to take to the street,
And holler and scream, out loud on repeat
‘Please see her. Please notice my gem’ we would shout.
‘Her middos, her beauty, within and without.
Please let her be told that she isn’t to blame,
She’s precious and perfect A piece in this game’
This game called shidduchim where sweet precious souls
Are ignored for so long as they sit near the phone.
As they wait day by day, month by month year by year,
As they wait to be seen, as their hopes disappear.
And we as the mother, we silently cry
But we paste on a smile and hold back that sigh.
We go to each simcha, rejoice and take part,
With a thousand sharp knives digging holes in our heart.
We need to feel noticed, to feel less alone
On this challenging path we traverse on our own.
So please, the next time you pass by an old friend,
Or sister, or cousin go over and then-
Tell them you’re thinking, you do all the time,
They aren’t forgotten, they are on your mind.
‘Your daughter is special’ it’s ok to say
They are seen, they are thought of by you every day.
And those words will give hope to us mothers who wait,
Till the right one will come speedily in our days!
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