Usually, the most peaceful moment of the week comes immediately after I light my Shabbat candles. What’s done is done, and I let go of the stress of the week to enter the presence of Shabbat. I was in a high-rise condo on busy Collins Avenue in Sunny Isles, Fla., where my Shabbat lights sat upon a small glass table set against panoramic windows facing the street. I stepped towards the table, and as I was about to strike the match, I noticed my friend Katy, who lives on the floor below, standing on her balcony facing Collins. It was then that I turned my gaze to the street below and was stunned by what I saw. I didn’t hear the screech of braking tires, the thud of impact or sirens screaming to the scene. Nothing alerted me to the shocking scene of 11 police cars and two fire trucks that had blocked off traffic and were diverting cars, and what looked like a felled motorcycle straddling two lanes across the now-empty road.

I had a pair of binoculars nearby, but with the approach of Shabbat, I decided not to look more closely, and then, choosing not to be a voyeur, not to look at all. It was not my business, after all, and certainly not in the reality of Shabbat. But as I lit my candles, I prayed that G‑d heal or help anyone who may have been involved in the accident, and strengthen and comfort anyone who may be suffering.

In the morning, I looked out the window again. Except for one police car parked on a side street, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Traffic, as usual. Pedestrians, as usual. Bike riders and motorcyclists, as usual. No roadside markers, vigil, flowers or breaking news. Later, I found out from Katy, who had seen the whole thing from her balcony, that the motorcyclist had, in fact, died at the scene, literally in front of our building. I searched the Internet down to local county Facebook posts, but I couldn’t find anything—it was as if it had never even happened!

A Community Horror

What a contrast to the shocking building collapse in Surfside a few miles down Collins Avenue. The news was all-consuming. Hour by hour, multiple stories hit the national news feed. As victims were identified, their pictures posted, their stories told: the shattered responder who retrieved his 7-year-old daughter, carrying her small draped body out between two lines of firefighters, police officers and responders; the 12-year-old girl sitting day after day at the rubble reciting Psalms for her missing father; the children mourning their elderly parents who had always teased about each wanting to die first so as not to have to live without the other; the newlyweds; the woman who finally left New York City to live her dream life ...

The community sprang into action. Unlike the anonymous motorcyclist, their business became our business. We donated bags of clothes, contributed to an online fund and closely followed the news. Their deaths seemed to issue a personal summons to me to be grateful for the privilege of my “dream life” by the ocean, for the gift of growing old with the love of my life, for the blessings of seeing my children grow up. And while I have struggled with reciting Psalms, how can I not after hearing about this young girl? How can I witness what happened and not change in some way? As Tzvi Freeman says, “If you see what needs to be repaired and how to repair it, then you have found a piece of the world that G‑d has left you to complete.”

But how to feel about the anonymous motorcyclist? Can I forget about it? Should I? If I hadn’t looked down at that moment, I would never have known. But if I saw it, wasn’t I meant to? What is the lesson, the call to action on my part?

Maybe it is not the tale of two tragedies, but the same tragedy. While one situation is shockingly newsworthy (and apparently, one is not), death is death. And when death comes crashing down in a sudden unforeseen moment, it should be shocking. Just because G‑d granted you the blessing of waking up this morning is no guarantee that you will live to sleep in your bed tonight. At a bare minimum, this is a call to be present, aware and appreciative.

Sweating the Small Stuff

A few years ago, my husband had a catastrophic medical event and nearly died in front of me, and for weeks my nerves were on edge. I was coaching a couple who was engaged in a power struggle over the following issue: the wife complained how on a Sunday when the husband played soccer, he had no trouble waking up early on his own and getting out the door. On the other hand, if Sunday was a day to be spent with her, the husband was sluggish in the morning and needed an alarm to wake up. They were arguing about what that meant and whose responsibility it was to set the alarm. All logical solutions were rejected, as people engaged in power struggles often resist simple resolutions because of the underlying meanings they attach to behavior. In this case, the wife felt she was “unloved” while the husband felt he was being “controlled.”

Eventually, I had reached my end of patience over their bickering, and I challenged them with these questions: “Suppose you went home tonight and crawled into bed, but the bed was empty. Your spouse wasn’t there—and never will be—because this afternoon, your spouse was killed [G‑d forbid] in an accident. And the last conversation you had was full of anger over this issue. What makes you think you have forever with each other? You don’t know what this day will bring. And if you merit to sleep peacefully in your bed tonight, how did you spend this day?”

I would never propose sweeping problems under the rug. On the other hand, how many relationships blow up over what we magnify and focus on faults to the exclusion of everything else?

Here are three things I suggest to increase our awareness and appreciation:

1. Journal Exercise

Try keeping a daily journal with this prompt: “What do I appreciate about living in this moment?” But then take it a step further. Why is it good? How is it good? What does that good bring and add to my life? What are the benefits, joys, blessings and gifts, even if they sometimes feel like a challenge?

2. The Appreciation Jar

Develop a daily awareness of the many acts of kindness that the important people in your life extend to you (parents, children, spouse, or close friends). Every day, jot down some “appreciation notes” and put them in a jar. Once a week, read them to each other. And then amplify them. Tell this individual why this act of kindness touched you, was important to you or stood out. He or she may be unaware which behaviors have the most significant impact.

But don’t make it a contest or feel hurt if you think some of your efforts were unnoticed or appreciated. It will come. The point is to create greater awareness. When you know you need to find something to write about in your journal or the jar will be empty, you will be on the lookout for the positive things in your life throughout your day, and that alone will boost positivity.

Tal Ben-Shahar, one of the thought leaders of the Positive Psychology movement, coined the phrase: “Appreciate the good, and the good will appreciate.” The Rebbe often quoted the famous teaching of the third Lubavitcher Rebbe: Tracht gut vet zein gut, “Think good and it will be good.” That is, the mere exercise of thinking positively produces positive results.

3. Mine the Gold

Find moments to appreciate; these moments are gold. Savor them, treasure them and be on guard. Make a habit to mention them on Shabbat. Appreciate your life and the people in it, and act from that awareness. For it can be unbearably gone in the blink of an eye.