I had spent the past ten days at home with my sick son who was very cranky (and rightfully so). My baby was crying and I myself didn't feel well. My son started to cry and whine and have a tantrum – about what, I don't even know. I burst out screaming, "Will you stop crying? What is it that you want from me?" I lifted my head from his startled gaze and my eyes rested upon the open windows. Probably everyone in my apartment building had heard me scream. I instantly lowered my voice and told him in a near whisper, "Let's make a deal. Avraham Nissim will stop whining and Mommy will stop screaming." He nodded his head in agreement.

Shhh, the neighbors are listening, what will they think?

I would awake to the sounds of people screaming below usI grew up in a large house, oblivious to what was going on around me. Every scream, shout or negative comment stayed within the four walls of our home or trapped within my heart. We never worried about what the neighbors would think. When I was first married, we rented an apartment in a large apartment building in the heart of Mexico City. At two o'clock in the morning, I would awake to the sounds of people screaming below us. After two months, I told my husband I couldn't take it anymore and we moved to a different apartment, leaving behind a big deposit. It was worth it. I wonder to myself how many homes would be saved if only the occupants had thought to themselves, "Shhh, the neighbors are listening, what will they think?"

On occasion, by the time Thursday or Friday rolls around I'm so exhausted from the week, I can't even think about preparing for Shabbat. I have thoughts of serving peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or store-bought cold cuts instead of my usual home-cooked meals that are infused with love and holiness. Just then, the phone will ring, as it does almost every week, and it's someone asking to come over for a meal on Shabbat. I tell the caller "yes" and breathe a sigh of relief. Thanks to the Shabbat guest, my home will radiate, sparkle and shine and the smell of good food will fill it… after all, what would the Shabbat guest think?

Even when the windows are closed shut in the middle of the winter or during the week when we don't have a single caller, I say to myself, "The windows are open, what will the neighbors think. You might have an unexpected guest, what will he/she think?"

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to get upset with your family and how difficult it is to display the same anger for a stranger? How your home looks impeccable when you know that visitors are coming, and if not, it would look like a disaster? You might ask, why do you need the neighbors or a Shabbat guest to do what you should be doing anyways? Isn't it like living a lie or putting on a show? One might call it pretend or make-believe to always be thinking that someone is listening or that someone is visiting, but, in fact, it is reality. The first law in the famous compilation of codified Jewish law, the Shulchan Aruch, states, "shiviti Hashem linegdi tamid" – I am always dwelling in front of G‑d.

We always have Someone listening and observing our actionsThe Talmud (Tractate Brachot 28:b) relates that when Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai was on his deathbed, his students asked him to give them a blessing. He told them, "Have the same fear of Heaven as you have of man."

"That's it, Rabbi? [Only the same, not more?]"

"If only it would be the same as it is for man!" he answered.

We seem to forget that we are never alone; we always have Someone listening and observing each and every one of our actions. I always tell the brides I counsel to speak in a tone with their husbands as they would if the neighbors were listening, to treat their spouses and future children with the same patience as they would a guest.

Once again my son taught me a valuable lesson and reminded me that everything I do does make a difference, because, after all, "Shhh, the neighbors are listening, what will they think?"

"Shiviti Hashem linegdi tamid"— I am always dwelling before G‑d.