One Hundred Steps

One hundred steps. Takes about a minute. Right foot, left foot, repeat. Who even counts how many steps they take?

Adam Wolf does.

Adam was born sixteen years ago with cerebral palsy and an entire laundry list of physical disorders. His doctors didn't expect him to survive. He proved them wrong. They said he’d never lift his head or walk. He lifted his head years ago, but has been confined to a wheelchair as he struggles through battle after battle, defying the odds again and again.

Adam Wolf is a warrior.

Adam’s mom Ali is determined to let him fight his fights. His dad and six siblings understand his determination. Together they balance school, doctors’ appointments and family time to give him as close to normal a life as possible.

Adam Wolf has family.

Ten years ago, an organization came into the picture. They gave the family the support and assistance they needed. For the past six years, they sent Adam to a camp for children suffering from cancer and other life threatening illnesses. There he learned that nothing can stop him from being a kid. There he learned that nothing can stop him from dreaming, from smiling, and dare I say it, from doing the impossible.

Adam Wolf has Chai Lifeline and Camp Simcha.

Chai Lifeline has a team, a team of (mostly) young men and women who want to help. Team Lifeline, now in its tenth year, raises money and awareness by running marathons. But it’s more than that. Team Lifeline’s volunteers are actively involved with the children that they help. In 2011, Adam’s camp counselors decided to push him 13.1 miles in the Miami Marathon, while raising money to make it possible. In 2012, Ali took the plunge, trained, and ran alongside them.

Adam Wolf has Team Lifeline.

Adam wanted to do more. He didn’t want to just be pushed, he wanted to push himself. He would learn to walk. He had taken a few steps here and there over the years, with someone holding him on each side, he haltingly moved one foot in front of the other, with barely enough strength to support himself. But this past summer he made the decision. He would walk the last mile of the Miami Marathon. With the help of his physical therapist, he got a walker and learned how to use it. Each step was painful. He went on. With his mom’s tireless help, he went from one step, to two, to five. He trained hard.

Eventually he was able to take one hundred steps. That’s not even close to a mile, but Adam was determined. He also had his secret weapons, his family and friends. He set off to Miami on January 22 with Ali and his older sister Samantha. (Older by a minute. They are two in a set of quadruplets.) And his friends flew in from all over the country, and beyond. Four hundred and fifty strong, Team Lifeline invaded South Florida. They were there to spread love and awareness, and to have a blast!

Adam’s personal marathon team was his mother, camp staffer Ezzi, Team Lifeline friend Zelig, and new friend SImcha. They would alternate pushing the wheelchair for the first twelve miles. That was accomplished surprisingly easily, as they cheered each other on and were constantly encouraged by the constant flow of runners passing them. They screamed, ran, jogged, walked and danced through twelve chilly miles. It was under 60 degrees at race time, freezing by Adam’s sunny California standards. Every runner from Team Lifeline shouted encouragement along the way, as well as members of other charity groups, like Team Yachad and Team Friendship.

At mile twelve the real work began. So did the fun. Waiting there was Samantha and a small group of camp staff. Adam was helped from his wheelchair to the walker. The band stepped it up and dancing erupted. Twelve miles and we were just getting started! (Yes, this writer was one of Adam’s team.)

Step after step, Adam was on his way. We sang, we danced, we screamed, we shouted. I still have the echoes of “GO! Go go go Aaadam!” ringing in my ears. We encouraged him, as he encouraged us. I walked backwards behind him most of the way, cautioning other runners to move to the left and continue to their own great personal victories. I lost count of how many high fives I got, and how many times people shouted Adam’s name as they passed. One hundred steps flew by, and Adam had already walked more than he had in his lifetime. But one hundred steps is not a mile. Strengthened by his entourage, he persevered. His knees hurt, he was cold and tired, but he kept on going. As we neared the finish line, the emcee gave us quite a shout out. The crowd saw the miracle that was happening and began cheering for Adam. A total stranger, who was finishing her half marathon, was so overwhelmed that she slowed down to walk and cheer the last 100 yards with us.

The finish line was a scene that will remain etched in my mind forever. Unfortunately, I will not share it with you. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t. The words won’t come. The joy, the tears, the emotions, there are no words large enough.

Adam had walked 1.1 miles. Because of Ali. Because of Samantha and the rest of his family. Because of Chai Lifeline. Because of Team Lifeline. But mostly because…

Adam Wolf is a hero.

Adam Wolf is my hero.

The finish line

Questions...

Here's my first foray into the world of blogging. Please share your thoughts. Respectfully. Thank you.


Questions...

So much has been written in the past ten days or so about the mass gatherings in Jerusalem and New York against the new Israeli draft law. Should full time Torah students be forced to join the army? Is their study more important? Does it accomplish the same purpose as the military by enlisting HaShem's protection of the Jewish State? I've read very strong and passionate arguments on both sides.

What about the rallies themselves? Are they a great kiddush HaShem (sanctification of G-d's name), or the opposite? Does it destroy the message of the importance of learning by pulling all of those students away from yeshiva for a day?

This article does not attempt to answer these questions. Most people on both sides already know the answers, and are 100% certain that their perspective is correct. The religious ones on either end will argue with certainty that G-d Himself agrees with them.

To me the questions are deep, difficult and significant. I am totally unqualified to attempt an answer, and certainly not a solution. From both a religious and a secular standpoint there is much to ponder.

Every advanced modern society has exemptions from military service. Conscientious objectors, women, ministry students, and many government officials, among others are often not required to enlist. Historically, in Israel, yeshiva students were included among those numbers. Families settled there and raised children with that understanding. It is no simple matter to change course on what, for many, is a foundation of their lifestyle.

But aren't there many people that take advantage of the system and enroll in yeshiva just for the exemption? Oh yes, there sure are! Are there people in America who take advantage of the welfare system and other government handouts? I've been told on good authority that such people do exist. But nobody is suggesting to stop government subsidies for the poor just because of those cheaters.

As far as the religious questions involved, if the great rabbis of the generation can't agree on an answer, who am I to shove my foot in the door? It will just get stepped on anyway.

I read a very emotional post by an old friend, Paula Stern, who made Aliyah with her family 20 or so years ago, and sent two sons through the army. How can I tell her to her face that my studying in yeshiva was more important than her flesh and blood putting their lives on the line for me? Or that my wife waiting for me to come home from kollel parallels a woman praying that her husband or son come home safely, alive?

With all these questions, only one thing seems clear to me. It pains me that I've only seen it mentioned by those that oppose the yeshiva exemption. Yes, there are valid arguments to support the exemption. Most reasonable people will agree to that, even if they feel that other factors override those positions. However, and I know I'm risking my reputation as an 'Ultra Orthodox Jew in Good Standing' card holding member with this, I strongly disagree with one point. Yes, you feel that you should not be in the Israeli military. You feel you are exempt from serving your country as your brothers do (and as my brother did). Fine, stay in yeshiva and kollel. I strongly support your right to make that decision. But tell me, why do you expect those brothers to financially support you? Why should they write the checks because YOU decided to follow this path? You deserve to be treated as every other citizen. Pay your fair share of taxes and receive the same benefits as all of your countrymen. Nothing more. Don't make unreasonable demands that only cause animosity. You may ask, "How will I survive?" Simple. The same way full time Torah students have survived throughout the centuries. Find a willing partner who WANTS to support you. Yissachar and Zevulun relationships work for both of you. Is there enough money to go around? Let's put it thus way. You believe (as I do) in the greatness of HaShem and his Torah. Believe also that He can take care of those who commit themselves to the difficult life of full time learning. And, oh, keep that life simple, but that's another article.

In closing, what is my opinion in this debate? I don't know, I'll leave it to people bigger than me. Am I going to the rally, or the counter rally? Probably not. I think I'll stay home. Maybe I'll even open my gemora.