Stop taking your body for granted!!

Avi, a middle-aged father of three from [music] Rehovot, woke up one morning and immediately knew that something was wrong. >> [music] >> He could not see properly out of one eye, and at first, he tried to ignore it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was dust. Maybe it would pass. But it didn't. And within hours, [music] panic set in, and he rushed to the hospital. And after a series of tests and consultations, the doctors finally told him the truth. A rare parasite had entered [music] his eye and was silently destroying it from within. And the prognosis was devastating. There was a very [music] high chance Avi would permanently lose vision in that eye. And the doctor [music] at the hospital looks at Avi and says, "The only doctor in the world who could attempt this [music] surgery lives in Boston." And Avi didn't think twice. He flew immediately to Boston. But by the time he arrived, [music] things had worsened. He could no longer see out of his eye at all. And now the doctor added something worse. The infection was spreading. The second eye was at risk. Blindness was no longer a possibility. It was quickly becoming a reality. The surgeon looked at him and said, "If we operate, it's got to be quickly. There's no [music] time." So he placed a bandage over his eye and left him to decide. And for a moment, Avi just broke. And he walked out of the hospital into the first shul he could find. And there, in front of the Aron Kodesh, something in him collapsed. He began to cry. And he says, "Hashem, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I went 50 years without really thanking you. I'm sorry [music] I went 50 years without really acknowledging you for eyes that see and for ears that hear and for a mouth that speaks and for legs that walk and for lungs that breathe and for a heart that beats and for a body that works for a life I was too busy to be grateful for. Hashem, I'm sorry." And for an hour, Avi just sat there in front of the Aron Kodesh. [music] He didn't ask for anything. He just said, "Thank you." for every limb in his body, thanking Hashem again and again and again. He returns [music] to the hospital, and [clears throat] he tells the doctors he's ready for the surgery. But when they examined him again, they stopped. The room went quiet. The parasite had stopped progressing completely. The infection that had been advancing towards blindness was no longer spreading. It had stabilized. Not because of medicine, not because of surgery. Before the operation even began, it [music] was already improving. It was unbelievable. So, the doctors proceeded carefully and the surgery was a success. Avi returned [music] to Eretz Yisrael with two perfectly working eyes. But the story doesn't end there. That Shabbos, he made a big kiddush in the shul. And he shared what happened in Boston. Now, thanking Hashem was what saved his eyes. A few months later, he gets a phone call. The man on the [music] other end says, "I just wanted to let you know that I was there when you spoke at that kiddush. I heard your story. I have two daughters who are single. One is 28, one is [music] 32. I've tried everything to get them married, and I mean everything. I've cried rivers of [music] tears. I flew all over the world. Nothing worked. But when I heard your story about thanking Hashem, I went home and I did something different. I told my daughters to make a list of all the things they're grateful [music] for. I called over my entire family, and my daughters publicly recited their expressions of gratitude to Hashem for all the good in their lives. And guess what? >> [music] >> The results were astonishing. Three weeks ago, my older daughter became a kallah, and yesterday, my younger daughter got engaged. And I [music] just wanted to say thank you for teaching me what gratitude can do. That is the power of Asher Yatzar. Many times every day, [music] we say Asher Yatzar. We whisper the words quickly, almost automatically. A bracha we've said so many times that it risks becoming background noise. But Asher Yatzar is one of the most radical declarations a human being can make. It is a Jew standing up in the middle of the ordinary day [music] and saying, "My body working is a miracle, and I thank you, Hashem, for it." The sad part is that most of us only notice the body when something breaks, when when when breathing [music] becomes difficult, when walking hurts, when the hands shake, when the eyes dim, when one tiny system in the body stops [music] cooperating, and suddenly our entire world changes. Only then do we realize how many silent miracles were happening [music] every second without applause. The heart beating, the lungs expanding, the nerves firing, the body healing, the eyes seeing, the legs carrying us through the world, and all of it happens quietly enough that we begin to think we're entitled to it. Until one day we realize we're not. Don't wait until it's too late to thank [music] Hashem for your body. Don't wait until the miracle becomes visible only through its absence. [music] Because every breath you take without pain, every blink, every step, every ordinary moment your body carries you through life without demanding your attention is something people around the world would give every dollar they own to have [music] back. Hash yetzer is when we train ourselves to stop in the middle of an ordinary day and whisper, "Thank you." Because this body, this [music] breath, this life is not ordinary. It is the miracle of me. >> [music]