It could be that my current perspective has much to do with where I have just come from. You see, our special-needs son, Chaim Boruch, had major spinal fusion surgery almost six months ago. And while many think that surgery is the hurdle to overcome, it is a mere beginning to a very long journey of pain, faith, patience and heartache.

Chaim Boruch’s 10-hour surgery indeed left its mark. Down the length of his back and through the depths of my heart.

You see, healingThe broken pieces mend, and yet we still feel pain really hurts. It just does. The broken pieces mend, and yet we still feel pain.

The healing is indeed the struggle, the battlefield, the tears and the weak whisper, where our own body and soul can begin anew, slowly and with time.

With absolute gratitude to G‑d, I thank G‑d for the miracles we saw and for the kindness we experienced. We had just begun to emerge from a very deep fog of where storm meets survival. And then, while trying to break through my own turbulent sea, swimming against the current yet desperate to take a breath of life giving oxygen, I felt plunged underwater once again, fighting a new wave against our current COVID-19 pandemic.

Chaim Boruch’s intense care made it almost impossible to leave our home since surgery. So to some extent, quarantine was not new to me, personally, yet at the onset of this pandemic, my quarantine reached a new level—one to be shared with my immediate family of 12.

Beyond the logistics of organizing our home to work well despite our current situation of social distancing, shopping for food, masks and other necessities, our mental shift quickly formed into one of gratitude and opportunity.

While the heaviness of fear, loneliness and the devastating impact of the loss of life burdens our shoulders, we find comfort in each other, in holding hands and not letting go.

I often share that raising a large family in quarantine is allowing me to see my family “zoomed” in. While we celebrate the gift of Zoom classrooms, Zoom meetings and the like, my very own heart has been gifted the opportunity to do the same.

My very own zoom lens that takes in the scene is the very lens that nurtures, forgives, loves and nourishes our family. The woman in Judaism, known as the akeret habayit—the foundation of the home—is a role that I have embraced on an even deeper level, while slowing down the shutter speed, more than ever before.

I look around the room. We are a family of many worlds, with dreams, goals, aspirations and thoughts, each unique and with a heartbeat of its own. Yet our unity—our ability to respect one another—with a new focal point is a gift we have all received. A gift of more compassion, love and acceptance.

And for this, I have become a mother. To see with my own eyes, what I see. To hear with my ears, a symphony of character. To hold these family moments forever.

These are delicate days, where the seeds we plant will bear new fruit. In a world where the fields will be sewn anew with fresh soil.

New earth from which we have buried our fears, our sadness, our pain, where hope, belief and trust sprout, and where we find G‑d right within our very breath.

Because indeed, it hurts to heal.

And it is time.

It is time to heal as a world. It is time to take the time. This is the essence of healing. Days and weeks of reflection and introspection while opening our hearts and minds to the subtleties of life.

Taking deep breaths with our hand on our heart. Turning down the “noise” within and turning up the sound of nature. Nature and the natural healing that take place when we pause.

Healing is like trying to balance, to affix one’s gaze at new points of realization. To zoom in, to adjust the focal point and to remain still.

This is how our world can take a step back into moving forward. To balance with gentle movement, inching our way into a familiar world with a new lens.

Because indeed it hurts to heal.

And it is time.