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I don’t do almost. Almost people are the ones who repeatedly miss the boat. From a song: I’ll sing you a song that you feel. A wise colleague pinned me in a moment. He told me, “You give people significance, make them feel important, so they can imagine hope.” Hmmm. Well, it’s real. From an ad: What comes from the soul you can’t fake, can’t practice, it just is.

Friends: My prior reminders that “We are all in this together” never rang more true than now. During my hiatus, it is not only I who have changed, seems the world jumped aboard. Around Purim time the “Upside-down” status intensified. Now we find ourselves heading towards Pesach, our holiday of liberation with more restrictions in our lives than ever.  I am astounded by the timing of Coronavirus.

As we count up towards Shavuos, I am increasingly aware of time going by – time I aim to use productively. Counting up as opposed to down allowed me to be present in the process, growing each day, and not focused on an end goal/date/next. It is a lesson for life, friends, since this day is all we’ve got. I changed again over Pesach and put goals in place with a plan; goals that involve other people are not within our control. Self-actualization is. I promised new beginnings. No more rinse and repeat. I am determinedly taking massive action on things put off prior, in order to know that I can count on myself. Boundaries are so important for someone like me, who tends to put others first and become distracted. I am learning. I have been blessed with the ability to transform constantly. The many diverse wonderful people who seek me out keep me on my toes. The accountability is important. Working on a singular focus is not natural for me. So I go out of my comfort zone, willingly and repeatedly. Real growth is never easy. We invest our time, our heart, and our money in what matters most. Therapies, treatments, potions, self-care, exercise facilities, coaches are not cheap or easy, but well worth it.

Reprinted with the permission of Ami Magazine

As a child growing up, I never would have imagined myself to be bereft of both of my parents at a young age (according to my calculations). But I was wrong. My father passed away five months after the birth of my first child, and my mother passed away one year after that same child’s bar mitzvah. Although my father did get to meet my son and enjoy the tender pleasure that only a newborn can provide, I cried many tears over the fact that my father didn’t merit to see him grow and develop in a way that would have made him so proud. I had difficulty coming to terms with the fact that both my father and my son (and future children) would miss out on the opportunity to share an irreplaceable bond from which they would have grown so much. My mother did get to see more than my father did, but it wasn’t enough by my standards. When my mother passed away, I grieved for her individually and for the loss of my parents as a unit. The link to my past was broken. My parents would not attend my daughter’s siddur party. They would no longer beam with pride as my boys would make siyumim, nor would they ever again be present at any of our future s’machos. This hurt. It hurt…a lot.

Friends: I have missed you all. Thank you so much for your loyal support and connection. I have been involved in projects and needed a break. A trainer taught me that rest in between sets – intervals - is part of progress. I have made much progress in many areas of my life gratefully and I have also taken a few steps backwards. I learned to accept “relapse is part of recovery.” Resisting or forcing anything is ineffective. I was controlled, hushed, and rushed most of my life.  Those days are over, thankfully!

 Time and time again, I am amazed at the disparity of knowledge that I find among the non-observant Israelis I meet. At one end of the spectrum, there are the cab drivers who are as familiar with Tanach as the back of their hand, and can quote from it with the ease of a rosh yeshivah. At the other end of the spectrum, unfortunately, there are Israelis who have never in their lives been to the Kosel, celebrate Christmas, and don’t even know how to say Sh’ma.