Yesterday morning I woke up to a phone text from my daughter: two more teenagers will be sleeping over on the weekend of the wedding (next week, not this)—in addition to the others, who will already be spread out throughout the apartment, filling all floor space.

I could see it all before my very eyes: the partying late into the night before the wedding, the slamming of doors and toilet seats heard easily through my paper-thin walls.

As it is, I’m still struggling to get back to my old, bouncy, energetic self, measuring my progress day by day. It could spell disaster for me.

So I kind of lost it, and started crying—not that my daughter knew! I didn’t make that mistake!

But while acknowledging the need to take care of myself, I also felt ungenerous.

In my reaction, I was reminded of my mother, the “party pooper.” I don’t want to be that person! Why couldn’t I just let go and get excited about the excitement? It’s a rare gift to see your child get married. And it will be a gift to have all the cousins here. Just the fact that they love us so much and want to be such an integral part of this! I want to be a generous host!

In the week’s parsha, R’eih (See!), there’s a long section on generosity.

The Israelites, still getting reminders on how they should behave upon entering the Promised Land, are told how to handle the needy. They will have great abundance, and should not harden their hearts to the less fortunate among them. Rather, they should be careful to open their hands and give sufficiently to meet the needs of the needy.

They are reminded of the Shmita year, every seventh year, when slaves are freed and the land lies fallow; despite any concerns about scarcity as that year approaches, they must continue to be generous.

In fact, even thinking about holding back, Torah tells us, is a lower, “base” form of thought. And our eyes are evil (v’ra’ah eynkha/וְרָעָ֣ה עֵֽינְךָ֗) when we see our fellow person in need and close our hand. God will hear the cries of the poor, and those who withheld will stand guilty. If, on the other hand, we give with an open hand and heart, we will be rewarded.

There are even specific stipulations around slave ownership (that, unfortunately, give greater benefits for the “fellow Hebrew” slave):

1. No one should serve more than six years (a message lost on supposed-God-fearing American slaveholders, including, sadly, Jewish slaveholders)

2. The owner should not resent having to set the slave free, for they have gotten double the work they would have if paying a laborer

3. The owner should send them off with provisions (from the flock, threshing floor, and vat)

4. If they had a wife of their own when they came, they should be allowed to leave together, children included (this, from Exodus, which has more on the subject)

5. And perhaps most importantly and shockingly, if the slave refuses to go (because they love their owner and things have gone well for them), their ear must be pierced to the doorpost with an awl (a much debated subject), and they shall remain in servitude forevermore.

If we look at this last one honestly, we might to ask the question, “How many options were there out in the not-so-wide world for the newly-freed slave?” Maybe staying with a non-abusive owner would be better than…who knows what!

But the intended lesson is still about taking freedom when the opportunity presents itself.

How often do we turn away from opportunities because it’s too hard or painful, incurring some loss?

For me, the impact on my health might take me back a few weeks. That’s a painful thought for me.

But taking freedom right now might look like letting go of my worries about it for the sake of that one night—and for love in and of the family.

It might also look like redirecting my thoughts towards the joys of a once-in-a-lifetime sleepover with fun surprises. (Didn’t I just say a few weeks ago that the only thing that matters is the love in my family?)

Can I stay positive of mind, and be generous of heart? Can I take this opportunity to change old, hurtful patterns in my family? I have so many memories of hurt feelings because of lack of generosity coming from family members.

Also, the cousins are not exactly needy, but hotels in New York are astronomically expensive, and my husband’s family hardly have unlimited means.

But that’s not even what it’s about in the end. These are the moments that matter most in life, and good memories of joy keep us going.

No one should need a reward for being generous, but the rewards come from all of this.

So, let’s say Amen (and I’ll let you know how it goes…).