We have learned time and time again that everything that happens in our lives comes directly from Hashem. There is no such thing as an accident or a coincidence. Everything is carefully planned and orchestrated exactly as it is meant to be. We have also been taught repeatedly that whatever Hashem does is the best thing for us. If we truly internalize these two principles—that Hashem controls everything, and that everything He does is for our good—we would be able to live with constant happiness, regardless of our circumstances. We've studied how the great Rabbis in Jewish history responded to their trials with unwavering emunah. They faced unimaginable challenges and still clung to their faith with strength and clarity. Although we recognize this as the ideal way to respond, we often find it incredibly difficult to emulate. When something painful or disappointing happens, our initial reaction may be one of sadness or frustration. We try to strengthen our emunah, and eventually we may begin to accept the situation. With further effort, we might even reach a level of accepting it with love and joy. But often we wonder: if we failed in the beginning and only came around much later, does it still matter? Is the struggle worth anything if we keep falling and responding the wrong way? I once heard a story that Rabbi Ephraim Wachsman shared in the name of Rabbi Shlomo Miller that offers powerful chizuk and perspective. The story took place in Yerushalayim after World War I, a time of severe starvation. In the Etz Chaim cheder, a rebbi wanted to bring a bit of joy to his students. On Rosh Chodesh, he went out of his way to get a cake and gave each student a slice to celebrate the day. The children, who were starving, were overjoyed. One boy, however, didn't eat his portion. Instead, he carefully wrapped it in a napkin. He loved his father dearly and knew how hungry he must be, so he decided to give the cake to him as a gift. But when recess came, he stared at the cake and couldn't control himself. He took one bite. Ashamed, he quickly wrapped it back up. Later, around lunchtime, the temptation overwhelmed him again—and he took a second bite. That day, the children were dismissed early. The boy ran home, cake in hand. He entered the house and said, "Daddy, Daddy, I brought you a present for Rosh Chodesh!" and handed his father the napkin-wrapped cake. But as he handed it over, he looked down in shame, realizing his father would see the bite marks. His father opened the napkin, saw the partially eaten cake, and looked at his son's face. Then he said: "My precious child, I see from these two bites just how hard it was for you to give me this gift. You struggled, yet you still gave it to me. That shows how much you truly love me. The bite marks are part of the beauty of the gift." The same can be said of our spiritual struggles. When a person wrestles with his challenges and still manages, eventually, to do what Hashem wants—even after failing along the way—it shows deep love for Hashem. The effort, the perseverance, the refusal to give up, all elevate the mitzvah and make it even more meaningful. Even if someone doesn't respond right away with complete emunah, the ongoing work to reach that place is a beautiful and treasured avodah. Hashem values that journey immensely. He is proud of the person who keeps trying, who keeps pushing, who keeps believing. We must never underestimate the value of any step forward in emunah. Every level we reach, no matter how delayed or difficult, is infinitely precious in Hashem's eyes.