A Lesson from the Bottom of the Stairs

by Jennifer Saber

“Socks! AirPods! Deodorant!”

I yell up the stairs.

Every.

Single.

Morning.

Welcome to my least favorite five minutes of the day.

One child is already sitting in the driver’s seat, ready to leave for high school. Meanwhile, her brother is racing back upstairs because he forgot something. They’re headed to the same place–but rarely at the same pace. Almost every day, it’s one of the same three things: socks, his AirPods, or deodorant. So I’ve developed a verbal morning ritual of my own.

“Socks! AirPods! Deodorant!”

If I time it just right, he’ll grab all three before he comes downstairs. More often than not, though, I’m too late. He’s back up the stairs while his increasingly impatient sister waits in the driveway, glancing at the clock.

Needless to say, these mornings have become a daily lesson in patience. 

Reflecting on the middah of savlanut (patience), I’ve come to realize that these hectic mornings have been teaching me something all along.  Patience isn’t the same thing as passivity. As a parent, I’m not called to throw up my hands and say, “Oh well.” But neither am I called to respond with frustration. Somewhere between giving up and losing my temper is the kind of patience that Jewish tradition asks us to cultivate.

Somewhere between giving up and losing my temper is the kind of patience
that Jewish tradition asks us to cultivate.

Rabbi Zelig Pliskin explains in “Patience: Formulas, Stories, and Insights”  that the modern Hebrew word for patience, savlanut, shares its root with words meaning “to bear a burden.” A sabal is a porter–someone who carries a heavy load. A savlan is someone who has cultivated the ability to carry burdens, both their own and those of others, without giving in to frustration. 

As parents, we bear countless burdens alongside our children. Sometimes those burdens are small: delivering a forgotten water bottle to school, calming nerves before a Spanish presentation, or consoling them after a tough loss on the tennis court. Sometimes they are much heavier. We carry their worries, disappointments, and growing pains in ways they may never fully realize. We do these things not because they’re convenient, but because that’s what love looks like. 

Bearing another person’s burden isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it looks like standing at the bottom of the stairs, calling out the same three words every morning. 

Parenting has proven to be one long lesson in savlanut. Not because our children test our patience, but because they teach us that love often looks like bearing another person’s burden–again and again–with grace. 

While my morning routine happens with teenagers, the lesson extends far beyond parenting. Every day, we’re given opportunities to help carry someone else’s burden…a spouse, a friend, a colleague, an aging parent, or a neighbor. Savlanut invites us to meet those moments with patience, compassion, and a willingness to shoulder a little of someone else’s load. 

Tomorrow morning, I’ll once again take my place at the bottom of the stairs. I’ll call out, “Socks! AirPods! Deodorant!” and silently pray that this is the day he remembers all three before coming downstairs.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

And if not, I’ll be there again the next morning.

Because savlanut isn’t about waiting for someone to change. It’s about choosing, day after day, to meet the people we love with patience instead of frustration, and to help carry their burdens with compassion and grace.

Whose burden are you being called to help carry this week? And how might practicing savlanut help you do so with greater patience, compassion, and grace?

Jennifer Saber is the Manager of Community Engagement and Partnerships for Chai Mitzvah. To continue the conversation about the themes of savlanut (patience), join Chai Mitzvah’s virtual session on Monday, July 20 at 7:30 pm Eastern Time for “Virtual Mussar – Topic: Patience/Savlanut/Erekh Apayim”. Register here.