Something I Want to Remember

I love the feeling I get after a Yachad shabbaton: the high from the singing and dancing, the inspiration.  Before this weekend, I was always involved in Yachad, because I enjoyed it.  Being involved in Yachad never seemed like chesed to me, but rather it was just a fun way to spend my time.

But this Friday, I wasn't feeling well and didn't want to come on this week's shabbaton.  I guess that's why I realized, for the first time, that helping Yachad members is chesed.  I was soon reminded, though, that doing chesed is not a one-way relationship.

Late Friday afternoon before going to shul, as I bundled my Yachad member into her winter coat, she put two challah rolls in her pockets.  As far as I was told, she didn't have any allergies, so I couldn't understand why she was bringing with her own food; since she isn't verbal, she couldn't explain it to me either.  At shul, another Yachad member filled me in: they bake their own challah every week at day hab.  After washing for bread and making hamotzi on the shul's challah rolls, I was surprised when my Yachad member put a piece of her challah roll in my hand and then cut pieces of her special challah for everyone at the table.  

It's simple, profound moments like this one that remind me that I'm really not the one who is doing chesed, who is helping the other.  I learn and gain so much from the "beneficiaries" of my chesed.