Thresholds: How to Thrive Through Life's Transitions to Live Fearlessly and Regret-free - Couverture rigide

Hirsch, Sherre

Couverture rigide

ISBN 10 : 0307590836 ISBN 13 : 9780307590831

Editeur : Harmony Books, 2015

A propos du livre

Extrait

Chapter 1

Crossing Thresholds Is Scary, I Know

Nothing in this world is worth having or doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty. . . . I have never in my life envied a human being who led an easy life. I have envied a great many people who led difficult lives and led them well.

--Theodore Roosevelt

In my sixth month of newlywedism (is that a word?), the phone rang at 6:00 a.m. Who calls at that hour? I reached over my husband and pulled the portable phone to my ear. “Yes.” There was silence. Then I heard a voice. A voice that I recognized but that I had not heard in a long time. “Hello, Sherre?” “Dad, is that you?” Silence again. “Is anything wrong?” “Yes, something is very wrong.”

My dad and I had always had a very tough relationship. He was not an easy father. I remember as a child seeing the movie The Great Santini and walking out afterward thinking the movie was a biography of my father. He was moody, volatile, and demanding. He ruled our home with an iron fist. He liked to be in control of everyone and everything. And if we fell out of line, he was quick to let us know. But my father could also be spontaneous, charismatic, and fun. He would surprise us--taking us out of school in the middle of the day to go to Disneyland or Palm Springs. But since I never knew who he was going to be, Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde, it was hard for me to feel comfortable, let alone safe, around him most of the time. I spent most of my childhood living in fear of him.

By the time I graduated from high school, I was desperate for a different life. I moved across the country to go to college and declared myself financially independent. I did not want to be dependent on him anymore in any way--emotionally or financially. And the truth was that he seemed relieved.

By the time I graduated from college four years later, my parents were divorcing after twenty-nine years of marriage. Their separation was long overdue. And as they unraveled, I found myself divorcing my father as well. I began to speak to him less and less; I saw him more infrequently. I thought that at first I would miss him; but the truth was that I too was relieved.

As I made my way through my twenties, I heard from my brother that our father had moved to Washington, D.C.--just a few hours from where I was making a life for myself in New York City--but I did not make any grand efforts to see him, nor did he make any to see me. I had become so estranged from him over those years that I did not even invite him to my ordination from rabbinical school, as it would have felt like I was hosting a stranger. I knew he was hurt. He called. But by this point I was ambivalent about him and our relationship.

When I got engaged to my husband, Jeff, I debated whether to call my father to tell him. Never before had I thought about inserting him back into my life. But I had been serving as a congregational rabbi and I had counseled many people who had troubled relationships with one or both of their parents. I thought it was time that I faced my own head on.

He came to my wedding. He did not walk me down the aisle. That would have been silly. Afterward I thought that I would be proud of myself for taking the high road, but the truth was that I felt pretty neutral. I did not know him anymore. Even though he was my father, he was not a parent. Nor was he a friend. I was not sure what box to put him in.

So when the phone rang that morning, I was not prepared for his call, let alone the words that came out next. “Sherre, I have pancreatic cancer and I am going to die. I want to come to Los Angeles to be with you. I want you to care for me.” I thought I was going to vomit right then and there. Was he kidding? I was newly married and I had barely seen him in twelve years. Plus, my brother and he had been in much closer touch over the years. I could not figure out why he would not want to go to San Francisco, where my brother lived.

I took a deep breath. I had thought that the first words out of my mouth would be “Absolutely not.” But instead I heard myself say, “I will think about it, Dad,” and I hung up. By this point my husband was standing beside me taking in the stunned look on my face. I explained the situation and then he asked the most reasonable question ever. “What are you going to do?”

If there ever was a threshold, a liminal moment of not knowing what to do, I was standing in the middle of it. Would I agree to care for my dying father--a man whom I’d feared and resented throughout my childhood and with whom I now had virtually zero relationship? Or would I refuse? Would I beg my brother to help me? Or would I do nothing and wait for the situation to resolve itself?

At first I was so angry. My life was finally coming together. I was married to a wonderful man. I was working as a rabbi in a job I loved. My mother was happy and lived close to me. Why was my father disturbing my happiness?

But then I realized how shortsighted I was being. My father was not doing anything to me. He had not asked for cancer. He was simply behaving in the way that he always had, thinking of what was best for him. And what was best for him was for me to care for him in Los Angeles. But that did not mean I had to be resentful of him. Nor did it mean I had to acquiesce to him. I was no longer his child living under his roof. I had choices. I could decide what I wanted to do. And there was no obviously wrong or right decision. I could decline his request, and it would make sense because he had not been a caring father to me. But I also could agree to his request because I wanted to care for him as I cared for so many other people in my congregation whom I had no real bond with. I could support his move to Los Angeles or I could not.

As I was deciding, I consulted my therapist, my rabbi, my husband, and my friends. Everyone had his or her opinions. “He was the worst father. Walk away and never look back.” “Take care of him. You take care of everyone else.” “Offer to help because you may regret not helping him later, when he dies.” “Don’t do anything yet; just wait and see what happens.”

What everyone’s advice made clear to me was that I needed to make the decision on my own, and no matter what room I chose to enter, I had no way of knowing what I would find there. If I took care of him, I might feel relieved but I might feel resentful. If I didn’t, I might feel regretful or I might feel hypocritical. Either way, I might feel like I had made the wrong decision.

I was terrified. If I cared for him, was I inviting drama back into my life? Would I be able to withstand it? But if I didn’t, would I regret it my entire life? Would I always look back and think I should have cared for him before he died? I spent a lot of time deliberating. I realized that I could not change my childhood. I could not change my father. But I could choose how I wanted to respond now. There was no “correct” answer. The outcome would not be perfect because there was no perfect. If my father suddenly became the father I dreamed of in his last months of life, then I would mourn all the years we had lost. If my father continued to be the person that he had always been, then I would continue to mourn the relationship I wished we could have had.

I decided that to cross this threshold--to make the decision--I needed to learn to live with the fact that I wouldn’t know what the outcome would be until it happened. But as long as I didn’t cling to this narrow vision of what was supposed to happen, and I was open to whatever happened, then I could go forward with faith in myself that it would be okay. That I would be okay.

I called my brother; he had decided on his own to move to Los Angeles. So I decided I would agree to help care for my father, with my brother’s help. Together we found him a small bungalow by the beach, and within a few weeks my father and his girlfriend moved within four miles of me and my husband.

I spent more time with my father in those next six months than I had since I was a teenager. And what happened? For one thing I found that with the medication he was taking, his personality intensified. What I had not liked before I now really despised, but the things that had been likable back then became more so. Except I did not respond the same way. I was not so reactive. I was not the little girl looking for his love and his approval. I was not relying on him emotionally and financially. I was just trying to be present for my father as he died so that he was not alone.

One day, as I wheeled him to the beach, he and I spoke about the past. It was not how I had imagined the conversation would go, but we talked, and for some reason that I still do not understand that conversation has continued to have meaning for me over the years. A month later he died. I was not with him. About an hour before he passed, he got very agitated and very angry and threw me out of the room. I chose how to respond. I said nothing and I left. I drove back to my office. When I got there, the phone rang and my brother told me that my father had died and to please come back.

As I drove back to Santa Monica, an incredible sense of peace came over me. I had finally crossed this threshold and entered a new room. And even though it was uncomfortable and hard, it gave me closure. It gave me peace. I had had the opportunity to say good-bye. I had had the opportunity to forgive and to be forgiven. I had had the opportunity to become the person I hoped I would be in this situation. In a strange way I felt not only lucky but blessed because I had discovered I had more faith in myself than I had previously allowed myself to believe.

It’s Time to Stop Using the F Word

Before God appeared to Moses and asked him from a burning bush to lead the people out of Egypt, Moses was living a comfortable life as a sheepherder in Midian with his wife and two sons. Then one day, with no warning, as he was leading his sheep to the far end of the wilderness, God spoke to him from a bush and asked him to free the Israelite people from Egyptian slavery and lead them into the Promised Land of Israel. (God had not spoken to anyone since the time of the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob almost three hundred years earlier, give or take a few.) The tradition teaches that Moses was so terrorized by the voice calling his name that he immediately hid his face behind his cloak, like a child hoping this was a nightmare that would end when he opened his eyes.

But it didn’t. Soon Moses realized that God was recruiting him to become the leader of the people. God was asking him to give up his peaceful life in Midian and go back to Egypt where he was wanted for killing an Egyptian (read Exodus, Chapter 2, for the whole story), make what was sure to be an unwelcome request that Pharaoh free the Israelite people from slavery, and traverse the desert with 600,000 people to eventually enter Canaan, the land of milk and honey.

Moses answered the way I think most of us would. He told God no.

I imagine Moses thinking, Why would I leave my routine, comfort, and security for this unpredictable, uncomfortable journey? I don’t need this tsuris in my life. Moses could have walked away and pretended this conversation never happened. But instead he began to rattle off reasons why he was not the right man for this charge.

First he told God that he was not qualified: Who am I? I am eighty years old [biblical time], a fugitive from the law, a mere shepherder. What makes me capable? But God disagreed and continued trying to convince Moses. I will be with you, Moses. You will bring the people out of Egypt and together you will all worship me from this very mountain.

At this point I imagine Moses thinking God was out of his mind. As if. This simple plan is not feasible. At this point God sensed Moses’s total apprehension, so He suggested an alternate strategy. Go to Pharaoh and tell him that the Israelites need three days off to pray in the wilderness and when they are done praying, you will bring them back to Pharaoh. But in truth, you will never return.

Moses is still skeptical. Really? You think Pharaoh is gullible enough to believe an outright lie? Finally, having exhausted almost all of his excuses, Moses blurted out in frustration that his stutter would prevent him from being a charismatic orator and leader. God still wasn’t buying it.

Moses argued with God back and forth, finding excuses and rationalizations for not going. His life was fine. In fact it was better than fine; it was good. Flaming bush or no flaming bush, God or no God, why leave this life for one that he intuitively knew would be so much harder and scarier? He would have to deal with the wrath of Pharaoh. He would have to live a nomadic life in the wilderness. There might not be enough food and water. People might die along the way. He might die trying.

Moses wasn’t totally wrong. There was a high likelihood that many of his worst fears would become a reality. (Many people did die en route.) And there were no promises he would succeed. (In fact, he himself never made it to the Promised Land, even though his people did.) So it makes complete sense that Moses would be hesitant to answer God’s call.

Revue de presse

Thresholds is a book that will change lives.  Rabbi Sherre Hirsch, in a voice of wisdom and encouragement, leads us through life's transitions.  She teaches us how to move past fear and uncover faith and courage and our true strength.  We learn to expand our awareness and transform scary times of change into times of possibility and new opportunity.  Hirsch reaches out to us with her warmth and empathy, she takes our hands and guides us toward new hope and new blessings.  - Rabbi Naomi Levy, author of To Begin Again and Hope Will Find You      
 
 
“In a world in which we are consumed with 24/7 hour news cycles, graphic displays of suffering from around the world and incivility is the norm, rather than an exception, Sherre Hirsch helps us find comfort. With each passage of Thresholds, you are inspired, encouraged and made more confident about your ability to navigate life's transitions and find our own little piece of heaven here on earth.” -Arvea Martin, Attorney, author, and President and Founder of Special Needs Network
 
“There are lots of books about dealing with difficult situations, but Sherre Hirsch has written a most useful guide to those “liminal” moments between the known and the unknown, when we are fearful because we don’t know what we might be getting into.”- Rabbi Harold Kushner, author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People

“A powerful book that helps you positively shift your perspective on how to look at your life, your obstacles and your regrets. Hirsch offers her wisdom, her insights and her humor in such a compelling way that you walk away looking at your life differently and your challenges differently. Anyone who has ever struggled or had questions about their lives (which is everyone!) should read Thresholds. – Jane Buckingham,  Founder and President of Trendera, and author of The Modern Girls Guide to Life.

À propos de cette édition

• Éditeur: Harmony Books
• Date d'édition: 2015
• ISBN 10: 0307590836
• ISBN 13: 9780307590831
• Reliure: Relié
• Nombre de pages: 192