Recently, I was thinking about an extremely moving night of my life.
It wasn't some big party. Or some huge moment that involved a confession.
It was a particular motzei Shabbat.
I stayed by a really beautiful, holy family for Shabbat.
I didn't grow up in a frum household, and since I became religious, one of the aspects I long for the most is my own kosher kadosh, religious household. Torah, tzniut, simcha, etc.
This family embodied that ideal. Sheer holiness.
I entered the house on Erev Shabbat; their home smelled of freshly baked challah and Shabbat food.
There was no television; the pride and joy was the huge sefarim shelf. The wife saw me admiring it and looking through the books. She smiled and told me "I tell my husband that sefarim are more valuable to me than jewelry. If he wants to buy me a gift, I tell him that I'd much rather he buy a sefer rather than a jewelry!"
I fell in love with their whole family, but particularly, their son.
He was 5 years old and very well-mannered and funny. He's the one who wanted to marry me.
On Motzei Shabbat, he was already in pjamas, but he clearly wanted to stay awake. He agreed to go to bed if I would put him to sleep.
So, I walked into his room, expecting it to take the usual 2 minutes. I told him we'll say "shema" together.
"okay, but we're saying the long version!" he replied enthusiastically.
Being that he was 5 years old, I expected him to know the first line or two. The first paragraph being the MAX.
He knew the ENTIRE shema. After the shema, he procceeded to perfectly recite several perakim of Tehillim. Perakim that took me quite some time to recite by heart.
I watched with astonishment. I was amazed. I was so inspired by this 5 year old.
I felt like I was looking at the most beautiful neshama.
And I hoped (hope) that I will raise such holy children, too.