Storm watch

Despite my resemblance (or hopefully lack thereof) to Al Roker, I am not an expert on the weather, even though my children think I am. Every morning, they ask what the forecast for the day is. Let's be candid: for about 6 months, the answer is HOT. Yes, you should wear short sleeves, sweetie, whether it's 95, 90, or a mere 80 degrees. But the sky is grey today, and precipitation is threatening. Temperatures are supposed to drop perceptibly - still not New Jersey weather, but a drop for those of us still in sandals. In fact, one of the newspapers is prophesying that winter will start with a bang - and a storm - today. We began mentioning rain in our daily tefilot on Shmini Atzeret, and on Motzaei Shabbat, we starting asking for it in earnest. (For those in Chu"l who don't know, in Israel we start saying "V'ten tal u'matar l'vracha" on the 7th day of Cheshvan, which would have been enough time for people from far reaches to get home from Aliyah l'regel. I am unsure - not remembering what I learned - as to the reason December 4 was chosen as the date for saying it out of Israel. I mean, you daven for rain in God's country, not elsewhere, right? I even attended a shiur about tefillat geshem last year, and the teacher, a born and bred Israeli, was unaware that the dates were different outside of the Land.) We could definitely use the rain; the reservoirs are desperately low. Even with a rainy year, scientists say we are in deep trouble. There is nothing like the connection between man and nature that exists in Israel to make you feel small and dependent on Hashem. Guess that is the point.

So I am scurrying to find everything that the kids will need for Shabbat, and hoping for the rain to come - rain that will be a bracha. That's the trick, after all; getting what you want in the way you actually need it. Guess I will run my errands quickly, so I can get home before the chance of getting all wet increases. We can hope for everything, can't we?

Dvora