The summer retreat took place last month in a Jerusalem hotel and invited dozens of parents and their infants to enjoy several days of rest and relaxation, along with a riveting program chock-full of enriching content that imbued parents with motivation, strength and courage to continue facing the round-the-clock challenge of raising a child with disabilities. Instead of wearying you, dear readers, with our description, we’d like to share with you a letter that we received from one of the parents who participated in these unforgettable days:
Dear Rabbi Meir Quinn and the Entire Connected Staff,
Shalom u’vrachah!
It isn’t easy to sum up all that we—me, my wife, and all the parents privileged to participate in the retreat—gained from these unforgettable days. Words can’t do justice to the experience or to the sentiments of relief and gratitude that filled us throughout the retreat, yet I will try to convey my thoughts and feelings as best as I can.
This was our first time attending a Connected Retreat, and already at the main entrance to the hotel, we saw that it was going to be a unique experience. Standing at the entrance and waiting to greet us with a broad smile was Rabbi Quinn’s daughter (who’d just given birth!) With her engaging smile and words, she welcomed every family, and although I assumed that it was a one-time encounter, I swiftly discovered that her natural warmth and happiness are hereditary…
I won’t provide a blow-by-blow account of all the technical details or even the daily schedule, but from the very start of the retreat, we felt newfound strength and energy coursing through our bones and muscles. Rabbi Druk’s inspirational opening speech presented the struggle of raising a special child in a whole new light, filling us parents with koach and chizuk and reinforcing our emunah and belief in our power to carry out this sacred task in the best way possible.
One of the very first miracles that we encountered at the retreat was a man with a smile as broad as the heavens and a heart as vast as the ocean. A heart with hands and feet. A heart with a name—Rabbi Meir Quinn. It was amazing to see how even small children who are terrified of strangers warmed up instantly to R’ Meir. His genuine warmth melted their hearts, and they’d respond with a sunny smile of their own and tentative wave.
Like his name, Meir illuminates hearts and spreads joy and radiance to everyone in his environment. He’s the central axis of the retreat, the man behind the scenes and in the front lines who makes it all possible, all the while sharing his natural warmth and spreading happiness wherever he goes. He manages to make everyone feel loved, wanted and accepted, without exception. He’s an inspiration to all, and it was worth attending the retreat just to meet him and discover what it means to possess a heart of gold. It is he who engages dozens of volunteers, pumps them up, and creates such a positive, uplifting environment. I wish I could describe him better—a man whose simply an angel.
The climax of it all, of course, was the night when the fathers assembled in one hall and our wives gathered in a second hall, while our children remained under the close, devoted watch of Connected’s outstanding volunteers. The volunteers receive special training regarding the care of each and every child so that parents can participate freely in all programs and events without worrying.
Amichai Suber stood in the center of the hall, fingers poised over the keyboard. The hall lights gradually dimmed, leaving space for hearts to open. Amichai began to sing, and one by one, fathers joined in. One song followed the next; the atmosphere was electric. Hearts opened vast, eyes filled with tears…
Amichai passed the microphone to a father and invited him to share with the crowd. The speaker started off hesitantly, but the warm, compassionate eyes of the audience implored him to continue. There wasn’t a parent in the room who couldn’t relate to all he said, to his feelings, to all he experienced and endured throughout tumultuous days, months and years. There wasn’t a parent in the room unfamiliar with the ins and outs of hospitals and doctors’ offices, monitors and medical machinery. Most of the time, their eyes are red from exhaustion, but at that moment, they shone with the intense, wordless message of “We know. We’re here with you.”
One by one, we took turns sharing our medical challenges, our personal trials, and our miracles, big and small. If we’d try sharing these experiences with outsiders, they could never understand. At most, they’d nod sympathetically and murmur words of condolence. But here, we’re all one family, and as one retreat participant expressed, “We’re all one family, and our father is Meir Quinn.”
In such a family, there’s no need for secrets. We can share everything, cleanse our souls of pain and pus, learn to express gratitude for the good times, and yes, for the hard times, as well. Here, we can sit together, cry together, laugh together. Here, we can celebrate the miniscule progress of our disabled children, progress that others wouldn’t even notice. It’s impossible to truly encapsulate the experience in words, an experience where joy and sadness merge and emerge. As the microphone passed from hand to hand, time seemed to stand still. Even the toughest among us softened and wiped away moisture from his eyes. Because we’ve all been there. We’re brothers in pain, challenge, and triumph.
The event continued through the wee hours of the night, and even after it ended, many parents lingered in the lobby and continued talking in undertones until it was time for Shacharis…
It’s ironic, but specifically at this time, Meir Quinn sat silently in an unobtrusive corner of the hall. Sometimes, the greatest comfort is silence, and Meir has mastered the art of listening as well.
While fathers are busy sharing, mothers are doing the exact same thing in a separate hall. Taking turns, they unburden themselves, allow the tears to flow, and open their hearts to absorb strength and encouragement from others.
By the next afternoon, our lives have changed. Our eyes are no longer red-rimmed from exhaustion or stress. They shine with vigor, with determination. We’ve unloaded our burdens, shared it with others, and our batteries are physically, emotionally and spiritually recharged.
I almost forgot to mention all the “extras” on the retreat. Hardly an hour went by without a special treat or surprise. Whether it was pizza and fruitshakes, presents for the kids at home, nosh or chocolate, everything was distributed with warmth and bright smiles, with consideration and desire to give and give and give. Meir’s constant refrain is “Just enjoy!” and enjoy we do…
I can’t possibly conclude my account of the Connected retreat without adding sincere words of thanks to the wonderful volunteers who cared so devotedly, responsibly and lovingly for our children. Their sensitivity and desire to help gave us parents the opportunity to breathe, relax and just let go! A special shout out to all the other volunteers who arranged the logistics of the retreat, and the only thing I’m left wondering is if these guys ever sleep!
On behalf of my wife and all who attended the retreat, I want to take the opportunity to express my heartfelt thanks to Rabbi Meir Quinn and his dear family who make Connected and its retreat possible. You can’t imagine what a chessed it is, and how much strength you give to us parents of ill and disabled infants. Thank you to all the outstanding volunteers, to the production staff, to Rabbi and Mrs. Amichai Suber and to everyone else whom we know and don’t know but who made this retreat one of the most memorable experiences in our lives.
Before we left, R’ Meir stopped me and winked. “Come again! If you do, I’ll know that you really enjoyed!”
I want to close with my heartfelt brachos that you should always be zocheh to perform chessed for Klal Yisrael!
Miri’s Abba
