I’m going to ask you a question.

Don’t think about it, just say the very first thing that comes into your mind.

“Who is the most important person in your life?”

Next, imagine that this “most important person” is telling you something or asking you something, or just enjoying spending some time with you.  Think about how much it means to him or her, and how much this time with them means to you.  How often have you said to yourself, “I wish I had more time for the people I care about the most, but I am so busy, so pressured, I just have so much that I have to do.” 

Now, take a minute to list the people you would allow to take you away from this “most important person” if they wanted your attention.  Think about this carefully.   Write down the names of the people you would allow to distract you from this very special person, to commandeer your precious time.

I wouldn’t let anyone commandeer my time.  When I am spending time with my wife, and believe me it’s all too rare, I don’t let anyone distract me from her.  We’ve made it clear to our children that when we are talking, or even just spending our four seconds together, they are expected to wait until we are available, and they have become very good about it.

I told Pinny that I was impressed with his zerizus.  He looked puzzled.

I don’t rush through my time with Zahava just because our kids may be waiting for us to be available.  What zerizus are you referring to?

I explained that zerizus has nothing to do with rushing.  The Orchos Tzadikim, in shaar ha-zerizus, explains that zerizus means to put every thought out of your mind except one.  One thought, one intention at a time.  That is zerizus.  The common English translation for zerizus is “alacrity.”  Alacrity is not haste.  Alacrity means to be eager and prompt.  A more precise translation of the word zerizus, based on Orchos Tzadikim, would be focus.

I explained to Pinny that I admire his ability to focus on his wife during their conversations and during their four seconds together, to refuse to allow anyone or anything to distract him.  He told me it hadn’t come easily.

I hadn’t realized what a difference it made until early in our work with you. You had asked me, “what happens when you and your wife talk over your concerns about each of your children?”  I remember telling you that invariably our conversations would be interrupted by a phone call on our home phone, or her cell phone would ring or my cell phone would ring or one of us would get a text notification.  I remember how surprised I was when you asked, “and what do you do when the phone rings or when you get a notification?”  It just seemed so obvious to me that when the phone rings you answer it; why would you even ask me that?  What you said to me then was such a paradigm shift it was amazing.

What I had said to Pinny then was, “what’s it like for your wife to be put on hold in favor of the person on the other end of the phone when you don’t even know who that person might be?  What does Zahava say to you when the phone rings during your conversation with her, and you ask her if it’s okay with her to wait while you answer the phone?”

I still remember when you asked me that.  I had never asked Zahava if it’s okay with her, I would just answer the phone.  You said, “Zahava is sitting right next to you, Pinny, you could ask her right now what she would prefer.”  So I did, and she said she wished I would let the caller, whoever it may be, leave a message or call back.  She wishes I would make them wait instead of making her wait.  I had never realized what it was like for her to be put on hold.  But it wasn’t easy to let the phone ring and let it go to voice mail or risk that they wouldn’t leave a message and who knows what I had missed.  You had asked me, “really? What could you possibly have missed?”  I had no answer for that.  I sat there and thought about how Pavlovian I’d been become, reacting instinctively to the phone the way his dogs salivated when his bell rang.  And I decided to put Zahava, and each of my children, ahead of anyone who might call on the phone.  I began to postpone callers when I was focused on my family instead of postponing my family every time the phone rang.  And I’ve come to like myself better this way.

When I was younger, the phone company used to provide a message to help us stay focused on one person at a time.  The message was, “I am speaking with someone else now.  Please call me again soon rather than attempting to interrupt my conversation.”  The message didn’t say all of that explicitly.  It was a non-verbal message yet it conveyed all of that quite clearly.  It was a called a busy signal.  We never sent that message to the caller whose call we were postponing.  The phone company shielded our current conversation and sent the busy signal for us.  

Some years ago, the phone company replaced this service with something they call “call-waiting.”   That’s a misnomer.  It’s actually “call-interrupting.”  I never asked for it and I didn’t want it.  I had to call the phone company and ask them to remove it and restore the busy signal, which they did.

It’s sad when you have to tell your wife, husband, parent, or child that you’re too busy for them.  It’s even sadder if you’re never able to busy with one person to the exclusion of everyone else. 

Think about restoring your busy signal.  Break the tyranny of the phone; stop allowing it to take you from the person you finally found some time to be busy with.  Zerizim makdimin, focus on one person, put them in front, and let everyone else wait.  It will be become easier when you trust that they see you as worth waiting for.

Rabbi Yitzchak Shmuel Ackerman is a Licensed Mental Health Counselor with specialties in marriage, relationships, and parenting.  He works with parents and educators, and conducts parenting seminars for shuls and organizations.  He can be reached at 718-344-6575.