I grew up in a warm and loving Jewish home, though our family wasn't observant. My brother Lou and I went to Hebrew school, but we were both out the door after the last “Amen” at our Bar Mitzvas. It’s really only eight years since Chabad Rabbi Choni Vogel in Delaware started me on my Jewish spiritual journey.

My parents visit us often, and have watched as I’ve learned to put on tefillin, say Kiddush Friday night and walk, rather than drive, to shul on Shabbat.

At first, they were a bit concerned about my lifestyle changes. No more lobster bisque, or tee times on Saturday mornings. But they saw that I laughed more, was less stressed when I came home from work, and was a more loving husband and dad. Observance made me more relaxed and happy.

Over time, Mom and Dad moved from watching passively from the sidelines to asking questions about what I was doing and why. My parents became more comfortable with the changes, and now support the observant lifestyle I've adopted.

Now that we’ve moved to Nevada, my parents came to visit. We picked them up at the airport and promptly went off to Lake Tahoe, and after several days at the lake we came home for Shabbat.
When I reminded Linda before sunset that it was soon time to light the candles, she said, “Don't worry, Mom and I have them all set.”

My Mom had watched Linda light the candles on numerous occasions. Sometimes she also lit the candles and read the blessing in English. So I was stunned when I walked into the kitchen and saw Mom chant the blessing in Hebrew!

That might not be a big deal to many, but to me it was almost a miracle. Mom, who’d never been to Hebrew school, had taught herself the blessing in Hebrew and had actually been lighting candles every Friday for the past year. When I asked her how she did it, she just smiled and said, “What's the big deal? It's a piece of kugel!”

The light emanating from those Shabbat candles that night illuminated every corner of our house. It was the first time I ever heard Mom speak the language of Sara, Rebecca and Miriam. I thanked G-d for allowing me to share this precious moment with my Mom.

As I walked to shul next morning, I recalled that Rabbi Vogel once told me that one candle can light another; we never know who is being inspired by our fulfilling a mitzvah. At shul I excitedly told my friends about Mom's Shabbat Candles, and they all felt that it was wonderful. A few moments later, Rabbi Cunin called our Minyan together and we prayed.

After Shul, I began my walk back home up the mountain road. At the half-way point, the beautiful blue sky suddenly clouded up, and the rain poured down in violent sheets from every direction. Soaked to the bone, I was wet, freezing and miserable and wanted home ASAP. Each step was a struggle.

A non-Jewish neighbor drove by and turned around to pick me up. My misery made me contemplate accepting the ride. “Who'd know?” I asked myself. “Just this once,” I rationalized.

Just then a huge truck emblazoned with an enormous sign “Vogel Floors” drove by. My eyes locked on the words Vogel, reminding me of my dear Rabbi Vogel back in Delaware.

My neighbor pulled up and said, “Steve, hop in and get out of the rain.” I thanked him for his kindness but declined the offer. “I'll walk,” I said. “It's only another mile.”

He shrugged and drove off. The big “Vogel” truck fired up its engine and disappeared into a blinding sheet of rain. I was almost floored! “Vogel Floors,” I said to myself as I walked through the rain. This was an incredible coincidence or a Divine message, as my spiritual mentor’s name helped my decision. Buoyed, I literally danced up the hill.

Within 18 hours I had experienced two moments, one positive and one negative, in honoring the Shabbat. We are often faced with difficult decisions. At the end of the day we also have to live with the consequences of our decisions. Getting into the car out of the rain would have provided momentary relief. But the warmth and joy generated from making a difficult, at times uncomfortable, decision can illuminate and refresh one's life.