The music is blasting - the walls are vibrating and my little daughter is dancing. He walks into the room, looks at the little one, turns to me and asks, "Why is she dancing?"

"The music is playing," I inform him.

He is deaf.

He doesn't hear the music. But he trusts me as his friend. And now he comprehends why my little one is moving her body and jumping. There is sudden reason to her strange movements. Our young friend's visit to our home last week was a real eye-opener for me; it made me realize that there is depth and breadth beyond what we experience.

"I can't hear them," he replies simply with a shrugOur friend was not born deaf and is therefore, thank G‑d, able to talk. It was our responsibility to make ourselves "heard,” according to the language he comprehends. Between his lip reading, good old-fashioned writing messages with pen and paper, finger spelling and modern technology of texting, we managed. But it was an experience very different from what we are used to. I am grateful to my family for their persistence and ingenuity in finding ways to communicate.

Can you imagine not being able to hear? Not the bird’s chirp or the car's honk, the pitter-patter of the raindrops, or the baby crying? To sit at a table full of people and not hear the conversation? Think about having no use for your phone (besides texting). Think about not hearing kiddush, havdalah, the Torah Reading. Think about how isolating that can be.

I drove him to a coffee shop and waited outside. He came right back out, coffee-less, saying they were out of coffee. "Then can you ask them where the closest coffee place is?" I tell him. "I can't hear them," he replies simply with a shrug. Oh. I forgot. So we went in together and he settled for an iced cappuccino.

You'd think he would be sad or frustrated, right? Not our young man. He takes everything in stride, is chirpy, loves to talk and has a great sense of humor. He is intelligent, very independent and, generally, a happy person. He roughhoused with the kids, built a house out of blocks and read them stories. His "difficulties" were not a hindrance to living, to thriving.

At the bookstore, he shows me a book he wants to buy – stories about overcoming life struggles. I mouth to him that he can write his own book.

Watching him navigate the course of his life made me realize that I, too, am deaf, a different kind of deaf. Actually, we all are, to a certain degree. I am deaf to G‑d's "strange movements." Strange to me, that is. His actions puzzle me. I look at Him in wonderment. "G‑d, what are you doing? Why is this one so ill? Why am I so poor? Why was she born retarded? Why did you take my father so young? Why did you make me so weak? Why did he miss his plane? Why were they in an accident?" And so on.

"There is music playing," I am told.

We saw how one can transform a limitation into a lessonOh. I am deaf. I don't hear the music. But I trust Him. There is reason, there is purpose. I don't need to know what the music is and I don't need to hear the lyrics. Music is defined as “any sweet, pleasing, or harmonious sounds or sound. " That is enough for me. The music is blasting. G‑d is "dancing." Unfortunately though, most of us, most of the time, are deaf. We cannot hear it. Nonetheless, it's comforting for me to know that there is music.

This past week we practiced patience and sensitivity. We learned that there are many ways to communicate. Our friend showed us that being joyful does not depend on outside elements. We saw how one can transform a limitation into a lesson, make lemonade if G‑d gives you lemons, and enjoy every sip.

The main eye opener for me was just that - to have my eyes opened and see how real deafness is experienced. To live with this for a week and internalize the lessons. When I experience hardships or difficulties, I should not allow it to destroy me and pull me down. I have to remember there is a purpose in them, and that should give me the strength to overcome obstacles and continue to live, to thrive, and to flourish - joyfully.

My world may be "vibrating." I must trust, though, that there is good reason for it. May the day come, very soon, when I will hear the sweet, pleasant harmonious sounds with the lyrics, too, and comprehend the reasoning behind our challenges. For now though - it's enough for me to know that there is music playing.