Priceless Gifts

A rabbi from Israel came over to me the other day and shared the following beautiful thought. When a person goes to speak with a great rabbi, he naturally feels excitement. He prepares what he wants to say, treasures every moment of the conversation, and leaves feeling privileged that he was granted such an opportunity. Yet three times a day, we are invited to stand before the Melech Malchei HaMelachim and speak directly to Hashem. Why don't we feel that same excitement? Why don't we enter shul overflowing with anticipation? The rabbi explained with the following mashal. Imagine someone tells you that a man has left you a gift. You open the envelope and find one hundred dollars. You would certainly appreciate it. You might even ask who it was so you could go over and thank him. But imagine opening the envelope and finding a check for one hundred million dollars. Would you simply say, "Oh wow, thank you. Who was it?" Of course not. You would be overwhelmed with gratitude. You would rush to find the person who gave you such an unimaginable gift. You would praise him, thank him, and never feel that your words could adequately express your appreciation. The reason we don't feel that way when we approach Hashem is because we don't fully appreciate the gifts He has already given us. Every morning we wake up with treasures that are worth infinitely more than one hundred million dollars. What price could a person put on his eyesight? If someone who had just lost his vision was told that for one hundred million dollars he could once again see his spouse, watch his children grow, or learn Torah from a sefer, who wouldn't give every penny he owned if he could? What is the value of hearing? What is it worth to hear the laughter of a child, the voice of a loved one, or the sweet sound of Torah learning? There was a little boy named Avi who was born without the ability to hear. For six years, he never heard a single sound. He never heard birds chirping, rain falling, music playing, or even his mother's voice. After years of tefillot and doctor's visits, the long-awaited day finally arrived. A hearing specialist was able to activate a hearing device that worked for him. His mother leaned over and softly whispered, "Avi." He froze. Slowly, he turned toward her. She said his name again, "Avi." His eyes widened, and tears immediately filled them. For the first time in his life, he heard his mother's voice. His mother burst into tears. His father could barely contain his emotions. The specialist quietly stepped out of the room, allowing the family to cherish a moment they had dreamed about for years. His mother kept speaking, not because she had anything new to say, but simply because after waiting six years, she wanted her son to hear her voice. For Avi, hearing a voice was a miracle. For most of us, it is just another day. We hear thousands of sounds every day and rarely stop to think about them. Yet, lo aleinu, if a person were told that he was about to lose his hearing, he would gladly exchange every possession he owned to keep it. The same is true of every gift that Hashem has given us. Our hearts beat approximately one hundred thousand times every day, pumping thousands of gallons of blood through a network of blood vessels stretching tens of thousands of miles throughout our bodies. If a person's heart skipped just a few beats, he would panic. With every breath, our lungs absorb life-giving oxygen through hundreds of millions of tiny air sacs. If a person could not take even one breath, nothing else in the world would matter. Our eyes distinguish millions of colors. Our brains process billions of signals every moment. Thousands of incredible processes are taking place inside our bodies every second, all because Hashem lovingly keeps them running. These are gifts beyond any price. No amount of praise could ever repay Hashem for the priceless gifts He gives us every second of every day. When we walk into shul, we are not coming before Someone Who gave us one hundred dollars or even one hundred million dollars. We are standing before t