When I try to imagine a life without Shabbos, I panic.
I see meetings and homework, tournaments and responsibilities
Crowding their way into every day of my life.
I see my calendar filled so full I write spaces for breathing each day.
I see myself collapsing from pressure, strain, and fatigue.
I see myself failing, because I have no calm and no time for me.
Shabbos is my glue, reapplied every week to the broken shards that form my chaotic world.
Shabbos is my air bubble, letting me breathe as I drown in the sea of life.
Shabbos is my light at the end of the tunnel, guiding me through the darkness of the week.
Shabbos is my peace.
I could not survive without Shabbos.
— Tamar Dimbert, Age 17
Hanna Sacks Bais Yaakov