Let Go of the Checklist: You May Finally See What Really Matters

"An incredible place. Endless carpets of lupines."

That is how everyone described Lupine Hill.

Before loading half the children into the car, driving out, returning home, and then taking the other half, we decided to visit first and see whether the trip was really worthwhile.

We arrived at a large hill and immediately began searching for the breathtaking flowers everyone had been talking about. There was one red flower, then another, and another farther away. But carpets of flowers? Definitely not.

"Maybe they're higher up," we thought.

So we kept climbing until we reached the top. There was another red flower here, another there. At first, we were disappointed. Then, in an instant, we looked at each other and burst out laughing.

The famous lupines were all around us.

They were the thousands of beautiful purple flowers we had been walking past the entire time.

That simple story, which my aunt shared with me, stayed with me long afterward. Sometimes we search for something using the wrong picture in our minds. When reality doesn't match our expectations, we fail to recognize exactly what we've been looking for. But once we let go of the image we created, we can finally see what has been there all along.

That realization changed my life.

Looking for the Wrong Thing

It all began in 2016.

Yosef received a dating suggestion from his chavruta, Dvir, and Dvir's wife, Tiferet.

"Sarah, 23. She's studying nursing..."

Yosef dismissed the idea immediately. She was older than he was, and in his mind, a nurse meant unpredictable shifts and little time for family. The suggestion ended before he had even heard much about me. Ironically, a wise friend insisted back then that we would one day get married.

At the very same time, I was also searching for my future husband. I wanted someone serious but interesting. Again and again, I found myself trapped in the same cycle. One person was too serious. Another wasn't serious enough. Someone else was responsible but boring. Another was exciting but lacked depth.

Looking back, I realize I wasn't only searching for the right person. I was also clinging to a very specific picture of what I thought my husband should look like.

During that period, I often turned to my coach for guidance. She believed in me, challenged me, and gently helped me grow. After finishing my studies, I applied to work at a particular hospital and was offered a position in the maternity ward.

It was the one department I had always sworn I would never choose. "What could possibly be interesting about working there?" I thought.

But because that hospital mattered so much to me, I accepted the position. To my surprise, I loved it. Every day I cared for newborn babies and their parents. I watched family after family begin a new chapter, each one unique, each one beautiful. Gradually, my own longing to build a family became stronger than ever.

Not long afterward, Yosef received the same dating suggestion again. Once again, he declined.

Meanwhile, I continued dating, but I felt increasingly confused and unsettled. Eventually, I decided to stop dating for a while. Rather than searching for someone else, I realized I needed to work on myself. I wasn't looking for another dating opportunity. I was looking for change.

Learning to See Differently

Around that time, my sister forwarded me an email advertising a lecture series called A Roadmap to Marriage. The advertisement ended with the words, "If you have a single friend or sister you truly love, send her this message."

My sister added one simple sentence: "I'm only sending this because I love you."

Embarrassed but curious, I decided to go.

At the same time, Yosef was also growing. Guided by a rabbi who became an important mentor in his life, he developed a deeper outlook on relationships and life. As for me, I wasn't working on dating at all. Instead, I was working on one of my deepest character traits: my tendency to be overly critical.

Little by little, I learned to look at people with greater generosity and compassion. When I eventually returned to dating, I wasn't the same person anymore.

Not long afterward, Yosef heard my name once again. This time, he agreed to meet.

When I heard about him, he sounded almost too good. In fact, I worried that someone so accomplished would overshadow me. My sister constantly reminded me of my own worth, refusing to let me speak negatively about myself.

Before our first date, Tiferet smiled and said, "You know, we suggested this match two years ago."

I laughed. "Honestly, it never would have worked back then."

"Save those words for your engagement," she replied. "You're right. It wouldn't have worked for him either."

The Gift of Seeing Clearly

We agreed to meet outside Jerusalem's Central Bus Station.

As I waited to cross the street, I spotted a young man standing there. Without even speaking to him, a thought crossed my mind:

"I hope that's not him."

He looked much more serious than I had imagined, and I immediately assumed I already knew how the evening would end. Still, because I was trying to overcome my critical nature, I reminded myself to remain open.

We bought drinks and walked together to the Rose Garden. The date was pleasant. Nothing extraordinary.

Later that evening, my sister texted, "So? How was it?"

"It was nice," I replied. "He's serious. I'm trying very hard not to judge people so quickly."

"But you're serious too!" she answered.

"Yes," I wrote back, "just... not that serious."

"Was he at least easygoing?"

I paused.

"Actually... yes."

I almost decided not to see him again. Then one thought entered my mind: "When you first heard about him, you thought he sounded special. Why not stop looking at the picture in your head and start looking for the person everyone described?"

That changed everything.

I wasn't giving Yosef another chance.

I was giving myself another chance.

So there was a second date, then a third, then a fourth. With each meeting, I saw less of the image I had created and more of the person standing before me. Gradually, I discovered someone kind, thoughtful, balanced, and genuinely wonderful. I realized that what made me happiest wasn't how closely he matched the picture in my imagination, but who he truly was.

Then, during an ordinary date at Reading Beach, Hashem gave me a gift I will never forget.

Suddenly, with complete clarity, I knew.

Yosef was exactly the person I had been praying for.

Everything I had wanted was there. Not in the package I had imagined, but in the person Hashem had chosen for me.

The Lesson of the Lupines

At our engagement, I turned to my sister and smiled.

"I told you I'd say it. Two years ago, this never would have happened."

And I truly believe that. We probably would not have made it past the first or second date.

The greatest gift I received before getting married wasn't simply meeting the right person. It was learning to see with generous eyes. That work continues for a lifetime, but thanks to Hashem, I began learning it before my wedding.

Looking back, I also realize that none of this would have been possible without my parents. Their patience, trust, unconditional love, and quiet guidance became the foundation that carried me through every stage of the journey. By always believing in me, even when I struggled to believe in myself, they helped shape the person I became.

Nechama Bitkover, head of the Omek HaKesher Institute, which focuses on emotional coaching for marriage and trains coaches and therapists, shared this inspiring story as a reminder that sometimes the greatest obstacle to finding what we're looking for is the picture we've created in our own minds.