"From Slavery to Freedom": A Passover Reflection

I was born into a family whose perspectives on were very harsh and destructive towards all who encircled it.

A resident sketches a self-portrait for art therapy

My parents decided to bring many children into the world. They probably thought that they would solve their problems this way, something that evidently didn’t happen.

As a girl, I found myself in a family of seven children. I was nothing for my parents, nor to my siblings, and all who were around me. But when someone had personal need and I was able to fulfill it, I was suddenly someone – even someone important. 

I was an expert at keeping secrets. Everyone knew this and exploited it. They fought and I listened to both angry sides curse each other.

I didn't know what to do with all that I felt inside me. I was always trampled on, overlooked, and my self-confidence was destroyed. All of this went on until I turned 16 and decided that something wasn’t right and that I was not living as well as I deserved to live.

I started to send distress signals to the world, but still, nobody paid any attention. As a result of extreme distress I swallowed pills during school lessons hoping that someone would pay attention to me. But even then nobody saw. All sorts of things happened and eventually I reached a psychiatric hospital, spending half a year there. 

In the end, I was sent to Beit Ruth.  That was the best thing that happened to me in my life.

In the beginning, I was skeptical. I tried to grasp what the staff’s true intentions were, what the girls’ intentions were, and those of everyone who tried to help me.  As I began to understand that their kindness was all was pure, I suddenly felt like a human being who is worth something.

Since the beginning, everyone has tried to increase my self-confidence. They have even succeeded somewhat, and they are still continuing to build up my self-confidence which was so severely depleted. They protect me from the people and the bad things that are likely to threaten me and at last I feel good.  I am able suddenly to feel, and to to express my feelings vocally and receive a response.

I am able to dream and to try to help others who were in my position to get out of their situation.

I know now that I much more than ‘nothing’ and that I have something to offer the world – I am not just any other useless tool.

This is FREEDOM in my eyes.

Rescuing Hugo

It was a cold, rainy weekend at Beit Ruth Village. Some of us go home on weekends – we stay with extended family or friends and return back to Afula on Saturday night for school the next morning. But not all of us have somewhere else to go on weekends. For most of us, the Village is our only home and we're here seven days a week.

There's not much going on today in this rain – we've already cooked a delicious breakfast (pancakes and fresh fruit), we've given up on our game of Monopoly (does that game ever end!?), the horses are keeping dry in their stables, the garden is drinking up the rain…and we're sitting on our covered porch waiting for the storm to pass.  

Delicious Saturday morning breakfast.

But what is that noise in the distance? It sounds like an injured dog, so we grab our umbrellas and head out to investigate. It sounds like it's coming from the parking lot. We check under and behind cars, but find nothing. The crying is getting louder as we get to the gate of the Village. And then we find him – it's a puppy! He's cold and wet and alone, crying at the gate of the Village so we scoop him up and take him inside.

The staff can hear our excitement as we all run back to the house. "We found a PUPPY!!!!" News travels quickly, and soon, everyone is squealing excitedly, trying to get a hand on him.We give him a bath, dry him off, feed him and give him more cuddles, hugs, and kisses than you can imagine. When we found him, he was shaking with fear. Now, he's warm and safe and sleeping like a baby.

We wonder – what will happen to him now? He’s all alone, who will take care of him? So we ask the famous question, "Pleeeease, can we keep him!?!?". Finding it hard to resist the pleas of 37 girls with so much love in their hearts to give to a puppy with no good alternatives, one of our teachers, Dana, agrees to take him home with her.

In the end, we name him "Hugo". Dana brings Hugo to work with her every day. He comes to school with us, and like us, seems to dislike math class most.

How did he know to come here of all places, we joke later on. Beit Ruth is a magical place of healing and of hope – we all know that. So we wonder, did we find him or did he find us?

In the end, it doesn’t matter. We are all together responsible for each other, because we’re a family just like any other - now with our first family dog.

Happy, healthy, Hugo.

The Cat on the Windowsill

I’ve only been at Beit Ruth for about two months now. I’m not going to lie, my first few weeks here were rough. Adjusting to life at Beit Ruth was a little difficult for me. People here have so many expectations of you. Wake up, clean your room, make your bed, go to school, do chores, half an hour for cellphones and Facebook, do homework, garden, art…talk to each other. It’s not that these expectations are unreasonable (I can say this now) it’s just that no one has ever had expectations of me before. No one ever really cared.

Anyway… Every morning for the first few weeks I would wake up (earlier than I have had to wake up in a long time) and go downstairs for breakfast. Every morning, I see the stray black cat sitting on the windowsill watching us eat. Stupid cat. I hit the glass to make him jump off. Get lost!

Hours later I’m back to eat lunch. All of us and the staff sitting and eating together…and the cat sitting on the windowsill watching. We all sit together and don’t leave the table until everyone is finished. We’re supposed to sit and talk. At first it’s weird for me… I’m not used to this. We definitely didn't sit around the table talking to one another in my family. I still don’t have much to say, so I sit there and stare at the cat still sitting on the windowsill staring at me. Stupid cat.

Dinnertime, and we’re back at the table. And the cat is back at the window. I don’t get it.

Time for bed. Lights out. We’re getting ready to lock the doors, shut the lights, and close the blinds…and the cat is still there looking in. I hit the button to bring down the electric blinds. They move so slowly. Lower, lower, lower, and when they finally start to close over the cat’s head, he hunches down and strains his neck to see in until the very last second. Every day, morning to night, the cat is on the windowsill, looking in.

It’s been about two months and I’m getting into a routine. I have more to say at the table, I like the girls and the staff, and it’s nice to just talk to people who are interested in me. And I guess like the cat too. I realized that for him to sit there every day, wishing he was in here with us, says a lot about Beit Ruth. Beit Ruth is a place for love, support, caring, and warmth for all who come here. Even the cats.