Mother Stories
- Leann Shamash
- Jan 6
- 31 min read
Updated: Jan 13
The books of Breisheet and Shemot are connected by the listing the names of the sons of Jacob. After that preliminary step and necessary connection we are introduced to a new set of characters, most of whom remain unnamed for now.
Central to Parshat Shemot is the power of mothers. Both Yocheved and Bityah (the daughter of Pharaoh) are fighters and are willing to defy the system. One mother, Yocheved, is willing to risk her son’s life to save him and one directly challenged her father, Pharaoh’s orders by saving a Hebrew child and bringing him up within the leader’s household.
These heroic efforts indicate the powers of mothers. Mothers presented with problems make efforts to solve them. Mothers are multitaskers, asked to tackle multiple complicated issues many times each day.
Not all mothers are the same and not all mothers possess the skills above, but for this week we will celebrate what mothers give to their children. In modern lingo maybe they would be called super powers, but they are not solved with magic or special effects, just with guts and sweat.
I want to say (or declare!) that this week, Parshat Shemot, is Mother’s Day in January. It’s not the Hallmark, commercially driven Mother’s Day, but the real blood, sweat and tears , hard work Mother’s Day, led by the gutsy women of Parshat Shemot.
I hope you enjoy these brief vignettes about mothers as much as I do. Thank you to those of you who answered my call for Mother Stories. It is your contributions that make this post so special. Each one touched me deeply and I am so proud to honor these moms.
There are many stories that grace this page.
Take your time with them. Savor them and appreciate that each was contributed with love.
It's not too late to add your story. Please send to leannshamash@gmail.com
Shabbat shalom,
Leann
Memories of My Mom
Looking back on my life, my mom always seemed to do it all with ease. She raised five
kids and I was the middle child. In spite of the reputation of the middle child, I was
always made to feel special. She taught me valuable life skills through example. Kind,
supportive, resourceful, putting others first…She taught me the priceless lesson of
compassion for the less fortunate. I watched her volunteer throughout her life, focusing
on making sure other community members were fed. I have taken over the torch and
my focus is the same in my retirement. I try to make her proud. What a woman. Almost
superhuman!
SK
_________
I need to start this off telling you that I loved my mother.
My mother always told me (and my sisters) that the best thing she ever did was to have children. I’m the oldest of 3 sisters ,my middle sister passed unexpectedly, suddenly, 24 years ago. My mother would not go to the funeral…… saying she would not bury a child.
My mother was tough…
My mother was well liked/loved, by her friends,my friends, family, my sisters’ friends….. she was funny, creative ,great cook, an artist…. Everything… except for warm and fuzzy. She had very different relationships with each of us, I guess not unlike most mothers and their children. She was tough, and I don’t remember ever seeing her upset or sad. She survived 2 very serious accidents… on a bus that was hit by a train (long before I was born) and a car accident (including my father, myself and sisters) when I was 6. She was the most seriously injured spending the next 2 months in the hospital. She was told she would never walk again…. and she proved them (drs) wrong and eventually went back to figure skating. She was an amazing cook, a creative artist, she was always very upbeat, didn’t let anything get her down. She said ‘any day you wake up in the morning is a good day’.
She adored her grandchildren, especially enjoyed her grandson (my son)….. she always wanted a boy and got 3 girls….
She was not warm and fuzzy, (which I missed) but she was very close and loving with her grandchildren.
I miss her terribly. When something happens in our family or in our world, my sister and I always ask each other ‘what would mom do? What would mom say? She was always a voice of reason to me. I wish I could have a conversation with her now, before her dementia set in. Ask her some questions. Get some insight.
My mother died 1 hour before her 93rd birthday, 7 years ago. I’m still working through it.
JGM
_______
My mom is pure strength. She raised four kids, one with disabilities, while somehow making each of us feel seen, supported, and special. She was always involved… and i mean REALLY involved (PTO president, philanthropic, present at games, meets and events), even while juggling so much.
Some of my favorite childhood memories are my school projects we did together: an elaborate book kite for The English Roses, hundreds of dumplings made by hand for an “around the world” food day, reading and loving the book So B. It. She didn’t just help… she showed up fully, every time.
She is also the light of every room she enters: outgoing, joyful, deeply devoted to her friends… a true Leo in every sense. She taught us never to quit without seeing something through, and was the first step for all of us in finding our paths, from colleges to jobs and everything in between. Her positivity is unwavering, and BRIGHT even when things are dark. Knowing how proud she is of me, even at my lowest, has been one of the greatest gifts of my life.
Because of her, I have the deepest appreciation for motherhood. It doesn’t scare me, though I can understand and see that you are only as happy as your happiest child on any given day.
I feel deeply connected to motherhood, and am grateful not only for the mom I was given, but for the love that I have met along the way through other moms that can feel like my own (my mother in law, my aunts, my grandmas, the moms who raised my closest friends, the babysitters who acted as my moms at times, my cousins, my friends who have turned into moms, my friends who are currently pregnant for their first time).
As I enter my next life chapter, I am so excited to (G-d willing) carry that legacy forward one day. I hope to instill the same values into my future kids one day. L’dor V’dor.
BGK
________
Raquel, my Mom.
I inherited one trait from my mom that I didn’t realize until much later. When I
argued with my husband, I didn’t just argue about the issue at hand — I’d bring up
everything from the past. Every little disagreement, every old frustration, all the way
back to our first fight. In Spanish, we call it a memorial de agravios: an inventory of
every wrong, injury, or grievance. After one of those storms, I would tell my husband,
almost apologetically, “Don’t pay too much attention to my complaints. It’s just my mom
in me.” He’d laugh and tell me, “In one ear, out the other.” Smart man.
That annoying habit is the only flaw I can remember. Almost everything else
about her seems, from this distance, touched by a quiet kind of grace.
I hope I inherited even a fragment of her selfless love for family. Nothing mattered
more to her than her grandchildren. She chose the kitchen table over cocktail parties,
patiently guiding small fingers across pages as she taught them to read and write. Their
progress was her celebration.
I hope I inherited a fraction of her brilliant mind — the one that quietly taught itself
English, Hebrew, and Yiddish. I discovered countless notebooks where she had written
each new word, its meaning, and example sentences, in her elegant handwriting. They
were tucked in her nightstand, a quiet testimony to her love of learning and discipline.
I also hope I inherited some of her sharp sense of humor. When I married, she
handed me a stack of photographs for a wedding album—this was before digital photo
books were common in Colombia. I kept postponing the task. On every phone call she
would ask, “So, when are you going to make the album?”
“Soon, Ma,” I always answered, already irritated with myself. Then one day a
letter arrived, written as if to Dear Abby, asking what to do about a daughter who
refused to finish her wedding album. It was signed, of course, “Desperate Mom.” I went
to the printer the very next day.
And I hope I’ve inherited her gift for storytelling. She could hold our children in a
spell with tales of mysterious eyes hidden deep in the forest, always watching. They
never tired of her stories; “Just one more Raque,” they pleaded, night after night.
So today, as I write, I wear her amber ring on my hand; the same one that always
reminds me she’s still here, protecting me in her quiet way.
BG
_________
I didn't grow up in a tactile family. Not into hugs or kisses or hand holding. But for a while, a few years into my mom's dementia diagnosis, she hugged everyone.
This past visit, my brother warned me that she's gotten restless and can get aggressive. My mom paces all day and all night. But on Saturday, when I visited just after breakfast, she lay in bed and reached for my hand. We held hands for an hour.
There are too many things that I miss about my mother, but in that moment, with her hand holding mine, I focused on the softness of her hand and the warmth we shared. I didn't get lost in the missing, but centered myself in her touch.
SM
Photos by Sarah Marie Aliberti Jette
____________
Mom,
If you are somewhere/ someplace right above the clouds, please know that we miss you still.
I hope that you look in on us sometime...the messy crew you created.
Filene's Basement isn't there anymore, mom, but I think Loehmann's still exists.
Your kids are grown up and growing old. We have white hair now, mom. You would laugh and say we are graying like you or maybe like dad.
We don't play Scrabble much since you left us. You would not be so happy with all of the two letter words we use and I can picture your dirty look at a word like za.
Whenever I drive in the direction of Revere and see Shirley Ave I think of you and my stomach isfilled with a hard knot. Somewhere in Revere you will always live. Marstons Mills, and West Medford, too.
The Red Sox miss you, mom. The Pats, too.
You wouldn't be so happy with the state of affairs these days. You would most certainly cuss.
There are lots of backs that miss your back tickling and lots of great grandkids who still hear about your magic circle. We loved your magic circle, ma.
The world is not quite the same place without you.
LS
________
To Our Mothers,
From my first day and even before you have been with me, and until my last day and even beyond you will not leave me.
At every step and every tumble your gentle hand and loving eyes protected me.
Hardships and tears you gladly bore, so long as they could bring me even a little smile.
My joys were your joys, magnified ten times, and my sorrows tore your heart more than mine.
In everything I have, you have a large but silent share.
At times you annoyed me and at more times I saddened you, but you quickly forgave and loved even more.
When you could no longer always be there, you sent your fervent prayers to accompany me.
I still hear your voice piercing the Heavens begging for my blessings.
Without you, Mother, just where would I be…
Anonymous
————-
When I was little, my mother z”l taught me to draw vanishing railroad tracks. When I started drawing portraits and someone would ask: “who is it?” She told me to respond: “it’s a person.”
She had no formal Jewish education. When she got married, she picked her Hebrew name. My daughter, named for her, now has that beautiful name.
She took art lessons for many years with the same teacher. I also studied with her teacher. After my mother got sick with what she called the “C” word, she stopped doing art. At shiva one of her friends pointed to a portrait of her. “That’s not her,” her friend said. Then the friend pointed to one of her paintings, maybe a still life. “Now that is her!” the friend exclaimed.
Leora Wenger
D
————————
Though she lived to be eighty four, in some ways my mom never stopped being a girl. She loved to have fun and especially loved connecting with other people. So much so, she even looked forward to funerals. Afterall, isn’t a funeral a certain kind of party? Once, long before she passed, my mom told me she wished she could attend her own funeral. I’m sure if her spirit had peeked in on it, she surely would have loved it.
Bonnie Arky
_______________
A Mother’s Legacy
I recently hosted some old friends for a Shabbat meal. Afterward, I received a beautiful message from one of the guests: “You are a terrific hostess and a lovely lady… just like your mom.”
I treasure both the message and the compliment. My mother passed away suddenly when she was only 57. I recently celebrated my 69th birthday, meaning I have now lived twelve years longer than she did—twelve years during which children married and grandchildren were born. I often think about how much my mother missed, and yet I feel her presence with us constantly.
There is a well-known midrash in Talmud Ta’anit, referenced in this past week’s parsha, Vayechi: “Yaakov Avinu lo met”—Jacob our father did not die”. Of course, this does not mean that Yaakov lived forever physically, but rather that his legacy endured.
This is how my mother lives on. In gestures and words, in the way a table is set and a home is opened, and through the person I have become. In that sense she is very much present. Her legacy did not fade; it found its way forward. My mother’s life, her love, and her spirit are always here, moving through me.
DS
—————-
My mom, Irene Lisman Freedberg. was unique, as we all are. One of the most unique traits about her was that she was an identical twin. Her “twinness” meant that we were always talking and thinking about what made her special. The sameness was so very obvious. The twinkle in her eyes was also a twinkle in Aunt Adelle’s. That beautiful smile lived for 20 years after her death in the smile of my aunt. However, her unique way of listening and bringing out the best in people was just her. Friends, relatives, and strangers all opened up to her. They shared their dreams and hopes and she helped them find a way to reach them. She was a listener extraordinaire. I didn’t always appreciate that trait. As a teenager I didn’t want to tell her everything, I wanted my space. And yet, she had a way of bringing it all out. Now, I wish I could have her ear to share the challenges of the world, but more importantly, to share all the beauty that has grown from the family she created.
Margie Bogdanow
________________
My mom is the most amazing person in the world.
And I love her so so much.
She lives for her family and always put her loved ones first.
She made sure we have everything we needed even though it was very hard journey to do so.
She worked a full time job and took care of us, the house, food and everything in between. And she did it all in a happy and loving way, making it look easy even when it was not.
She is kind to people and always stays nice and respectful to them even if they don't deserve it.
I always saw her helping people and donating even when she didn't have enough.
She is inspirational.
She is the kind of person that you are happy to be around and she adds good and positivity to the world.
She takes what I believe to be the real essence of any religion which is to be a good person and kind to others.
She makes me believe in the good of this world and I wish there would be more people like her. The world would be a much better place
AB
——————-
Holding on to the Rope
They say that from the womb babies listen to what surrounds them. Some parents ponder whether to play Vivaldi or Bach so their kids can get a head start on culture.
In 1960, the year I was born, my mother published an article about her work with “Street-Corner-Girls. "Ironically, I only discovered the article a few years ago, after The Arts Incentives Program had been said and done.
My mother was a foot soldier in the battlefields of the War on Poverty. When I was in kindergarten, the President had just signed a $947.5 million anti-poverty bill into law. The following year, 1965, President Johnson enacted reforms to Social Security, and a guarantee of health insurance for the elderly and the poor through Medicare and Medicaid. We watched our mother, as she lay on the couch, watching these events as they were reported on the evening news. We snuggled into her forming one continuous, but tangled line: My older brother burrowed into the crook of her knees, my sister leaned with her back
against the couch, sitting cross legged beneath my mother’s head, and I sat in the triangle of my older sister’s lap.
1965 was also the year I told a lie. I might have just tasted the words in my mouth but never actually said them: Disneyland, The things I heard in Show and Tell were beyond my comprehension. We sat in a circle when one of my biblically-named classmates at my progressive Hebrew day school, described a trip cross-country in the family station wagon and going to Disneyland, a place I knew only by the castle that appeared at the beginning of the TV show, with sparkling magic dust winding its way around the turrets, and harp strings inviting us inside. It occurred to me that I could tell that story too, I thought, picturing
myself standing in front of the class, describing the inconceivable: My family piling into our white Volvo station wagon, abandoning the unread newspapers on the kitchen table, the ringing phone, the downtown office of The National Association of Social Workers. I pictured myself standing up for Show and Tell as if it had really happened. Who would know the difference?
We had a black and white square box of a TV with long silver antennas that needed to be adjusted from time to time. As soon as the news shifted to sports, and weather, my mother would leave the couch, go upstairs, where we’d hear her on the phone carefully orchestrating the delicate strategy of translating laws into policies, and policies into practice. We could hear her occasionally, when we lowered the volume during commercial breaks from The Wonderful World of Disney: “Uhuh, that’s right. Ok then…”
On days when it seemed as though her team was winning, she’d inaugurate bedtime by throwing an imaginary rope to us down the stairs.
“But Mom, I’m too tired to climb the stairs. Can’t I just sleep downstairs tonight?”
“Come on, you can do it. Just hold on to the rope.” Her voice so commanding, with a lilt of humor and eyes glistening, we had no choice but to grab on to the rope, clutching the stairs with our own measure of drama. My mother would pull, she would strain: my bare feet roughly sliding over the deep red-rough surface of the carpeted stairs. Tucked in and my eyes fluttering shut, I would try to remember how it all happened. How did I get there? The rope wasn’t even real but somehow it got me to the top.
Lisa Fliegel
_________
My mom took care of my father during his fifteen-year Alzheimer decline and when he finally died, I figured she wouldn’t live long without the tenacious pull of caring for him that seemed the focus of her life. After all, she was in her late 80s. I was reasonably certain that she would be gone within a year.
Boy was I wrong! She had another seven or eight years of active engagement with her knitting, her reading, her walking, and talking by phone with her New York friends of 70 or 80 years. Yes, there was much she wasn’t able to do, especially after her 100th birthday. But she was able – perhaps even determined – to have a few years doing the things she loved. She earned it.
MG
_________
In 2021 my mom turned 95. That year I retired from my job of 35 years and my husband and I welcomed our second grandchild. Our three children were grown, married and well along in their lives and careers; and I found myself thinking a lot about who I was in my mid-60s and how I want to age. That inquiry is partially about what I will do with my skills and time and partially about how I will interact with the people I love and respond as life inevitably changes in ways over which I have less and less control.
Every time I see my mom she is smaller, literally shrinking before my eyes. She’s lost a lot of mobility, her bones are brittle and her muscles are weak. She needs help with the most basic daily functions. Her physical vulnerability seems to have triggered an emotional vulnerability that was always there but is now on full display as she retells her list of regrets. It is hard to hear a 95+ year old woman rehash regrets going back three quarters of a century, but that is what vulnerability looks like.
At the same time her increasing vulnerability has magnified and reframed her significant strengths. Mom has a terrific sense of humor, she is open-minded and hungry for new experiences, she is grateful even though she has suffered significant loss, she loves learning and there are no bounds to the joy she takes in everything having to do with her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
I used to think I was more unlike than like my mom but now I look to her as a model—hoping that I age with some measure of her strength and grace.
FS
_______
My mother is a rare combination of immense strength and an incredibly huge heart. Coming from a traditional Persian background where women were not always encouraged to be independent or dominant, she refused to accept the status quo. Instead of conforming to an environment that didn't fully empower women, she challenged every boundary and shattered conventions. Her determination was so strong that she made the bold move to Israel to truly self-actualize and define her own destiny, proving she is a woman who plays by her own rules. Here at home, she is the engine that drives us and the glue that holds our entire family together. Whether it is the bond between us siblings or our connection with Dad, everything rests on her shoulders, and she carries it with grace. She wraps us all in warmth and endless support, yet she also knows exactly how to stand her ground when necessary. She is the most wonderful mother a child could ever hope for, a true role model and an inspiration to us all.
IR
________
Mi Mama
I always have memories of mama, but especially this past holiday season I realized how important the connection with my mom was when I was cooking for visitors at home. My mom used to cook for everybody, and the cleaning was a party around the house. Cleaning and listening to music at the same time made the chores easier and happier which is probably why I like to keep home organized.
My mom used to move the furniture all the time. One time the sofa was in one place, then we moved to another, so the house always looked different, especially during holidays, and birthday parties. Lights and colors were around the house during holidays, my mom changed the color of the walls for the holidays every other year and the decoration of the house was beautiful, and well done.
My mom's legacy gave me a spirit of enthusiasm, energy, and joy.
Cooking for my brother who recently visited from Venezuela brought me the spirit of joy. The physical absence of my mom is broken by the happy moments that I can spend with my family and friends.
I remember moments with my mom, eating, dancing, swimming, together, playing and even studying. Now as I study I can recall those happy moments which have inspired me to keep trying; imagining how happy my mom would be knowing that I am preparing to be a better professional while bringing honesty and justice to my work.
I hope my relationship with my brothers and sisters brings me the spirit of happiness that I feel from her, because having peace, harmony, and enjoyment is her legacy. This is how I honor my mother; living in a way where the relationship with my siblings plays an important role in my life, and I am sure that it was her wish for all of us.
AG
_________
My mom taught second grade, knitted afghans, modeled in local fashion shows, played bridge, completed The NY Times crossword puzzle daily (in pen), read voraciously, and was a self proclaimed “news junkie.” She kept her mind busy and her thinking was sharp and cogent. I admire how she made a life for herself after her divorce from my father after 27 years of marriage. She loved the town she lived in, and the friends she made through her school connections as well as old friends from the Jewish community.
My mom always welcomed my family’s visits. Sometimes she would come to the ocean with us - but, whether she came or not, she always made sure we had tuna fish sandwiches and iced tea to take along. In the late afternoon when we returned from our escapades at the beach, we would all go to the local library and pick out a movie to watch at home while dinner was prepared- BBQ chicken, Nana’s yellow rice, broccoli or corn on the cob, and a raw vegetable plate which my boys called “chop chop.” I also loved playing the piano for her- showtunes and old time hits. Occasionally the boys would entertain her with their own favorites.
These are the beautiful memories of her I treasure.
NL
_________
When I think about my mother, I imagine her at a beach in North Carolina. She's peacefully looking at the ocean with the wind in her face, enjoying the beach with each of her senses.
I am spending time at the beach this winter. When I walk the beach I allow my mind to wander. I listen to the waves and try to find my mother there. I hope I find her peacefully observing the ocean with all of her senses, as I do now.
ND
_________
When I think of my mother, I remember her wanting always to feed me in my younger years, because I was a very bad eater like my children. Going on errands with my mom, involved a sandwich for me in her pocket book! She knew I would need it before we went back home!
She used to sit next to my bed, while I was reading, begging me to take one more bite!
I can see her busy in the kitchen, stuffing grape leaves, frying fish, making a Tagin in the oven! Her life was about hosting relatives! So, food for her was how she expressed love!
Anonymous
________
My sister and I were always taught to stay curious, try everything once and to stay honest and true to ourselves. Our mom started a daycare to be able to stay with us when we were young and became our girl scout leader to spend more time with us when we were older. She drove me to ballet and cooked all of our dinners. Only after moving out of the house did I realize she didn't like cooking all that much but did it, every night, for us. I am grateful to resemble her so closely, both in appearance and personality. I love her for her strengths but also her weaknesses, knowing she wouldn’t be the mom that I admire so much without them.
JM
________
My mother worked for Brown university as a census and survey taker whereby she was provided with people's contact information to call, explain the purpose of the survey, make an appointment and go to their home to interview them in person. I often went with her in the evening so she wouldn't be walking into strangers' homes alone.One survey was about the "Pill" when it became available in the early 1960s. I sat there quietly as my mother seriously asked the 80 year old woman the questionnaires intimate questions about her thoughts and needs of this new product. While mom stayed serious and professional, I muffled my giggles. It was such a special time accompanying her into my teens.
Over the years, with marriage and children, we spent a lot of time with my parents especially on Shabbatot. They were so excited when we came for a visit to Florida. What they didn't know was that we waited for this visit to tell them that we were making Aliya in 6 months. They were devastated. Mom stopped talking to me for a year.
A year later when she got email, she wrote to me. I asked her how she could not communicate with me or her 3 grandkids. She said she was heartbroken. I had broken her heart.She had always been the most devoted mother and I had broken her heart. There is no easy way to cut the ties and pack up the family and leave but once we made the decision to make our home in Israel we couldn't look right or left, only straight ahead. In time we made peace.
I had been tough on her, not understanding how she preferred to deal with our Aliya with total silence {even though that was the way my family dealt with difficult situations}. Now as a mother and grandmother who feels so blessed with our frequent visits with the kids and grands, I thank GD that my mother was able to overcome her hard feelings and make lots of loving memories with us for the rest of her life.
An Addendum-
for the first time since she died she came to my shabbos nap in a very very calm and sweet encounter with me and my sister for a consult on what color to paint her walls. She had dozens of colors on the walls. Most predominant was her favorite- turquoise. I awoke and knew she had visited.It made me happy.
SI
_________________
When I was little, I would watch my mom write letters and thank you cards - her handwriting and script lettering amazed me. I was happy just to sit next to her when she ate - feeling special to be her table buddy. She always made me something different than what she was eating (something more kid friendly) - little did she know I would have gladly eaten whatever she was having just to be like her. She never criticized how I looked or dressed or ate - something I wish all my girl friends had experienced, and which I know almost none of them did. I always felt supported and championed by her. She is the reason I have the independence and confidence I do. She made me feel like I was capable of anything and everything. Almost to a fault actually! And when she calls me perfect, which she does out of love, it's one of the things that is hardest for me to hear - but with her, I try to understand where it's coming from. It is not lack of recognition of effort and grit, but wonder at her own creation. And that is a beautiful thing. We are oh so different she and I - which sometimes makes connecting hard - but I hope she knows how much joy I get in celebrating milestones and moments with her. Of sharing special days with her and my children. I hope she knows how much thought I put into making her feel special and seen. The same way she made me feel in my most wonderful childhood with her.
MB
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אמא שלי גדלה ללא אמא בבית.היתה לה אמא חורגת שלא נתנה לה בכלל אהבה וגם ניסתה להפריד בין אמא שלי ואבא שלה-סבא שלי שהוא היה בן אדם טוב. אחרי שאמא שלי התחתנה ויצאה מבית של אבא היתה עם חמה -סבתא שלי שלא ידעה לתת אהבה .סבתא שלי עבדה קשה ופרנסה את המשפחה וזה לא היה פשוט.אנחנו מאד אהבנו את הסבתא. אמא שלי עטפה את הילדים שלה ואת כל המשפחה של אבא שלי באהבה.דודות ודודים שלי תמיד סיפרו ועדיין מספרים שקיבלו חיבוק אמאהי ויחס מאמא שלי ,הרבה יותר מאמא שלהם-סבתא שלי. איך נערה שלא חיבקו ולא פינקו אותה ושלא היתה לה חיים פשוטים,רק פיזרה טוב ואהבה ללא לרצות משהו בתמורה.היתה אחת ויחידה.מאד מתגעגעת אליה.יהיה זכרה ברוך
My mother grew up without a mother at home. She had a stepmother who gave her no love at all and also tried to separate my mother and her father, my grandfather, who was a good person. After my mother got married and left my father's house, she had a mother-in-law-(my grandmother) who did not know how to give love. My grandmother worked hard and provided for the family, and it was not easy. We loved my grandmother very much.
My mother enveloped her children and my father's entire family with love. My aunts and uncles always said and still say that they received a motherly hug and care from my mother, much more than from their mother, my grandmother.
How could a girl who was not hugged or pampered and who did not have an easy life, only spread goodness and love without wanting anything in return? She was one and only. I miss her very much. May her memory be a blessing.
MB
__________
My Mother and the Synagogue
I want to tell you a story about my mother Sarah. My mother was an amazing,
extraordinary woman and and I have so many stories about her and my father
and their 9 children. And my name is Elisheva because I was number 7. But today
I want to tell you about my mother and the synagogue and the joy of reading.
My parents grew up in Yemen, where they lived in a small village and their life
was very simple. They did not have running water or electricity. There was no
school for children the way we have here. The boys went to a Heder to learn how
to read the Torah but the girls could not go. My understanding is that it was
against the rules to teach girls how to read. And so my mother Sarah could not
read.
But my mother wanted to learn, so when her father was preparing for the
Shabbat reading she listened secretly and memorized everything she could –
psukim (verses) from the Torah and sayings from the Mishna and from the
Talmud.
In 1949, only a year or so after Israel was founded, my parents and grandparents
and aunts and uncles all came to Israel from Yemen, as part of “Operation Magic
Carpet”. When my parents first came to Israel, the orthodox synagogue my father
went to didn’t have a space for the women. Only males went to pray. My mother
really wanted to hear the prayers so she decided, even before I was born, we
would build a new synagogue and it would be in our own yard, with a room for
the women. This was a community efforts and family and friends donated money
and their work skill and my parents donated half of our yard for this project.
Every Shabat the prayers started at 6:00 AM, and it was so close to our house that
my mother herself did not even need to go to the room in the synagogue. She
would sit on the balcony and my sisters and I would still be in our beds, and the
prayers and readings filled the whole house.
My brothers needed to study every week for that week’s parasha, and it was my
father’s responsibility to prepare my brothers every day of the week so that they
would be ready to read on Shabat. But my mother would listen and correct my
brothers to, because she had learned so much of the Tora
My sisters and I did not study the parasha, but my mother wanted all here
children to have an education, so all the boys and girls were expected to study
hard and all my sisters and brothers went to university and became doctors and
engineers.
And finally when my mother was 60 years old and her children were grown up,
she attended a special government program called “tehila” and she learned to
read, and her greatest pleasure was to be able to read the siddur and pray every
morning.
E.H.
__________
.אני זוכרת את אמא כ"אידישע מאמא", אמא דואגת שמחכה לשובי בעומדה במרפסת. אמא מסורה, בישלה נהדר. אפילו הגיס הפרסי שלי אהב את הגפילטע פיש שהכינה. אמא הסתפקה במועט. אני זוכרת את הנסיעות שלנו לנצרת לקנות בדים ונעליים..תודה ליאן שבזכותך אני נזכרת בתכונות של אמא האהובה שלנו.
I remember my mother as a "Yiddish mother", a caring mother who waited for my return standing on the porch. A devoted mother, she cooked wonderfully. Even my Persian brother-in-law loved the gefilte fish she made. Mother was content with little. I remember our trips to Nazareth to buy fabrics and shoes.
PR
___________________
My Mother, Lillian Ruth (she chose this name for herself) Biskin Pogoda was the third child of Pauline and Nathan Biskin’s six children. Being in the middle, of course she was the family mediator. She was, however, so much more. My Mother was surely a woman before her time.
Born in 1915, she was the only one of her siblings to put herself through college even though it was during an emotionally difficult time in her family. She taught school from the time I was sixteen months old so I never questioned that having a career mother was highly unusual for that time. While my friends mom’s would be baking cookies and playing mah jong, after having taught a full school day, mine was mowing the lawn or was in our basement mitreing lumber so my sister and I could have a room in which to entertain our friends. She was extremely pragmatic and she and my Dad did whatever it took to make our lives work.
My parents had not only a great love and devotion to each other, they also had the utmost respect. Even though my Dad was an immigrant from Poland who had to stop his education in the 9th grade in order to help support the family, my Mother was smart enough to appreciate his innate intelligence, his extraordinary ethics, and his exceptional personality. I was an adult when I realized that my Mom always earned more money than my Dad. It was never mentioned.
My Mother knew how to be happy. In fact, both parents possessed this gift. The four of us lived in a very small home and when they would return home from an evening at friends’ more lavish residences, she would always say, “I just love my little house.”
Although I had my dear mother in my life for only thirty years, I appreciate just how extraordinary those thirty years were and I will cherish them for ever.
LF
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My mother Gloria was an independent woman ahead of her time. She was creative and chose not to go to college as the only two avenues available to her were nursing or teaching. She worked for her father during WWII making glass figurines in his factory. She then went to work as an Art Therapist at Bellevue Hospital in NYC. She loved living in NYC and much to her chagrin ended up in living in the suburbs of NJ. She found the life of a housewife very unfulfilling and when my brother was nine and I was five years old she went to work at a local department store. She was so good at putting together outfits for the customers that she was promoted to being the main floor woman's clothing buyer. Of course, that meant she had to work full time and she received a lot of criticism from our neighbors regarding how my brother and I would turn out! She was happy and productive and a great role model. She loved to arrange flowers and was so good at it that the local garden club asked her to be the judge so that other people had a chance to win! My mother's other big love was her dogs. She used to say that our dog was her third child. And we would say that her four legged child was her favorite! My mother was street smart, feisty, cultured, and loyal to her friends and family.
BF
————
Amy Solomon
This piece is called Brooklyn Beauty.
These days I often find myself thinking: What would Edith do?
Mama que no jode es tia
There is a saying in Spanish that translates in English to : “A mother who doesn’t annoy her child is called an aunt." But I want to talk about how special my mom is, and give a shoutout to all my tías out there.
My mom is the strongest person I know. Losing one of her children yet finding the strength and will to keep going for her other two sons—that's what I admire most about her.
I also want to shout out my aunts and grandmothers, who are like second mothers to me. They want to see their nieces and nephews flourish in life as if we were their own kids.
G.G.
————
הניה שניידר ז"ל שהיתה אשה "פשוטה" וצנועה אך בעלת יכולות וכישרון בתחומים מגוונים. את היצירתיות שלי אני חבה לאמא. אמא היתה תופרת ובעת המלחמה הארורה באירופה ניצלו היא ואחיותיה בזכות יכולתה לבצע תיקוני בגדים. עבור עבודתה קיבלה מהאוקראינים קליפות תפוח אדמה ושאריות מזון. בזכות אלו הן שרדו! כל השנים אני יוצרת תופרת רוקמת סורגת ויוצרת קישוטים. בבית בעפולה בו גדלתי עמדה מכונת תפירה שתמיד היתה פתוחה ועמוסה בפיסות בד שמיועדות לתפירה. שום בגד לא נזרק לפח. תמיד אפשר היה לעשות שימוש חוזר ברוכסן ובפס דנטל שמקשט אותו...שימלת השיפון בגוונים של ורוד פוקסיה סגול ואדום שתפרה לי לכבוד אירוע החתונה של פנינה ושמעון ז"ל עדיין שמורה אצלי. בערוב ימיה אמא התגוררה בסמוך לבית שלנו בפרדסיה. נהגתי להכין לה בכל יום את כוס הקפה שאהבה. מה שהיה אירוע מבדח כי אף פעם לא הצלחתי לדייק את מידת החום של הקפה. אמא אהבה אותו ממש רותח אמא מצידה צחקה שהכוס שהרגשתי לה מלאה מדי והיא תמיד שופכת קפה על השולחן . תודה ליאן שחיברת אותי לזיכרון מחמם לב
Translation:
Hania Schneider, who was a "simple" and modest woman, but who had abilities and talent in various fields.
I owe my creativity to my mother. My mother was a seamstress, and during the bloody war in Europe, she and her sisters were saved thanks to her ability to repair clothes. For her work, she received potato peelings and leftover food from the Ukrainians. Thanks to these, they survived! All these years, I have been a seamstress, embroiderer, knitter, and maker of decorations. In the house in Afula where I grew up, there was a sewing machine that was always open and loaded with pieces of fabric intended for sewing. No garment was thrown away. It was always possible to reuse the zipper and the dental strip that decorates it... The chiffon dress in shades of pink, fuchsia, purple, and red that she sewed for me in honor of the wedding of Pnina and the late Shimon, is still in my possession.
* In her later years, my mother lived near our house in Pardesiya. I used to make her the cup of coffee she loved every day. Which was a funny event because I could never get the coffee to be exactly hot. Mom liked it really hot🙂 Mom laughed that the cup I brought was too full for her and she always spilled coffee on the table.
DSR
________
My Mom implanted within the three of us, the emotional intelligence to know how to say כי טוב as did Moshe’s mother, echoing God’s sentiments in response to creation. It was my mother’s influence that raised me in a traditional Jewish setting. This enabled me to learn how to praise Hodu L’Adonai כי טוב Ki l’Olam Hasdo.
WH
__________
My mother Rose was a strong willed, “tell it like it is”person. She did not mince words, nor did she refrain from giving her opinion, especially if she thought that she might be helping someone by her ideas of what they could be doing better. Despite her proclivity for giving advice, I admire the fact that she refrained from giving me advice about how to raise our own children. I never realized how much will power that took! She had a very good sense of humor, and was a great conversationalist! She did the NY times crossword puzzle every day, and re-invented herself as her children grew older. She received a masters degree in Special Ed and worked in that field well into her 60s. She did not hesitate to invite her 7 grandchildren and their parents for many a Shabbat or Holiday dinner. (I didn’t appreciate it then, but I do now)! Family was everything to her!
My mother was the youngest of 5 in an orthodox family. Her siblings called her “Bubby” all her life. Her mother ruled the family and favored the boys. Lucky for my mother, her elder sister (also very strong willed) made sure that she got what she needed.
She missed my Dad so much after he died, and she said that she always felt a bit on edge for many years after he died.
My mother wasn’t an affectionate mother, and never said “I love you.” However, we did talk on the phone everyday, and she kept me informed of how she was feeling and the challenges that she faced as she got older. She was a loving grandmother and mother in law!!!!! She always told me “You will miss me when I am gone”, and she was correct. I miss her a lot.
No one loves you or has your best interests in mind like a mother, and I felt that!
RE
__________________
My mother, an identical twin, who stood only 4 feet 10 inches short, was a powerhouse. There was nothing that she could not do. She was a career woman who moved away from her Boston family as a young woman to work in Lowell in the late 1920's to help her family financially. However, she kept in touch with her loved ones by writing letters to them on a daily basis. She was the office manager of 26 people in Lowell. In those days, moving out of the house for a single woman was a major move.
My mom was very progressive. She used one of the first hair dryers. It was made of steel with a picture of a young woman on the side of it. Growing up I watched my mom use an electric mangler console to iron the sheets, my dad's shirts and all other items that needed ironing. In addition to all the housework that she performed, she went out to work as the bookkeeper and office manager at the Diamond Parlor Furniture company in the North End. She was one of the first women to dress in pant suits. During the winter instead of wearing dresses, she thought it was better to wear slacks since they would keep you warmer while waiting for the streetcar.
Yes my mom was a hard working, smart woman who was devoted to her immediate family as well as being the matriarch of the extended family.
FP
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GZ
__________
I still remember Mom's laughter.
She was loud, silly, and had a powerful exhale. Her Mom, Mimie, would often laugh in the late afternoon. Taking in a deep breath, slowly letting out little sounds. They were like little ah ha ha ha ha's going down the steps of a musical scale.
Remembering the laugh takes me to a deeper place. Smothered in quiet hours both emitted deep sighs and profound sadness.
Every morning, tasting the shadow of my mother's grief, I am grateful for Moses's gifts of courage and curiosity.
NST
Other posts in Words Have Wings on Parshat Shemot:
https://www.wordshavewings.net/post/that-hand-upon-your-shoulder THAT HAND UPONE YOUR SHOULDER
https://www.wordshavewings.net/post/names-are-like-sweaters NAMES ARE LIKE SWEATERS
https://www.wordshavewings.net/post/five-women-and-a-girl FIVE WOMEN AND A GIRL
WHO CHANGED THE WORLD
https://www.wordshavewings.net/post/anywhere-anytime ANYWHERE, ANYTIME
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