Photo Credit: Jewish Press
I turned fifty. Didn’t plan it, just woke up one day and realized I’d been chasing money, not meaning. Deals, not dafim. I built plenty, sure – but not always the right things.
Somewhere in the noise, Torah became background music. I told myself I’d get serious “once things calm down.” They never did. And now I owe more apologies than invoices paid – to friends I ignored, to family I sidelined, to kids who watched me run after everything except quiet.
Chazal say banav hem ma’asav – our children are our deeds. Maybe that’s the only balance sheet that matters.
Don’t wait till fifty to figure that out. The dividends of Torah don’t compound on their own.