To My Dear Kallas,

A Guzinte Vinter!

No matter where we were over Yomtov, or who we were with, our regular routine was upended, and some do better with that, and for some it’s more challenging.

One of the greatest challenges for many is the intensity of being in close quarters, (or very close quarters) with relatives for an extended period, be it a night, two nights or two weeks.

And often relationships that are just fine when they are in short spurts can become complicated, frustrating, confusing and difficult when it’s longer term.

Settling back home, and into our routines, can give us time to pause, and ask ourselves, “What went right, what went wrong?” Do I like how things turned out? Do I like who I was? Would I do something different next time (Because there WILL be a next time!), do I wish the other person would do something different next time?

We might be able (in a moment of calm) to ask ourselves if we possibly were complicated, (WHAT???? ME?????) or frustrating, or confusing or difficult…., or could I possibly have judged them too harshly?

Every person you meet is living in a world we can’t fully see.

They have thoughts circling in their minds, worries that keep them up at night, and events that shaped who they are today.

Behind every face you pass is a lifetime of memories — moments of pride, pain, fear, and joy.
Some carry invisible burdens that weigh heavily but never show. Others are quietly fighting battles we don’t even know exist.

When we meet someone — whether it’s a stranger, a student, a neighbor, or a relative— remember we are stepping into their world. A world with its own logic, dreams, pressures, and fears. We might only see one tiny corner of it, and that sliver doesn’t define the whole.

What I see:

At the Chol Hamoed outing, an aunt seems irritated. She snaps at the kids for making noise and sighs loudly when someone spills, I think, “She’s always so moody, and irritable:

What I don’t see:

She’s been up every night taking care of her elderly mother, hosting guests, and trying to manage a thousand details for Yom Tov. She’s exhausted and running on empty.

Reminder to myself that sometimes what looks like irritability is just burnout.

What I see: (this by the way is a true story)
She’s holding up the line, fumbling for coupons, and the cashier has to void and re-ring her items. You roll your eyes — “Some people are so disorganized, get it together, and THEN get in line…”

What I didn’t see (at first glance and then noticed)
She’s calculating carefully because she only has a certain amount on her EBT card. She’s embarrassed, hoping no one will notice her shaking hands.

Reminder to myself that what looks like carelessness may be quiet courage.

And one more….

What I see:
While everyone clears the table, your sister-in-law scrolls on her phone. You think, “She’s so lazy! Everyone picks up her responsibility”

What I don’t see:
She’s managing quiet panic about a doctor’s call she got earlier. She’s doing her best to stay composed in the crowd.

Reminder to myself: People carry invisible loads.

We can form opinions about a world we’ve never visited.
We can read one sentence from a book that’s hundreds of pages long.

The truth is, everyone is doing the best they can with the tools and experiences they’ve been given.
And when we remind ourselves of that — when we pause before judging, and choose curiosity over criticism — we open the door to compassion, and see the people around us , as full, complex, beautiful worlds — just like us.

Have a wonderful month!