I was flying home from a speaking gig in Atlanta and was waiting at my gate in the airport terminal. My kosher Chinese takeout had made a narrow escape from TSA clutches and I started to chow down when I saw her: a fellow hair-coverer.
I turned 43 yesterday, which is something I’m very grateful for. My father died when he was 30 and I am painfully aware that each year is a blessing. Each year brings new wisdoms and awareness that I’d never trade for a slightly more youthful self.
At the age of 22 I became a Rebbetzin by proxy: I was the Rabbi’s wife.
We had been living in Israel and with my husband finishing his rabbinical training, moved to Buffalo Grove, Ill., to take our first pulpit.
Tisha B’av Lamentation
dedicated to our troubled youth
For the sadness and pain
For the broken relationships and shattered dreams
For expectations reputations justifications
by Yoni Schlussel and Ruchi Koval
Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there lived an exceptional ancient civilization. This remarkable community was very unique and was full of love, warmth, and fondness, and had deep affection for one another. While their days were very busy, as were others in their time, with the practical tasks of plowing the fields, preparing their food, and running their homes – they were distinctive in how they spent their free time.
I’ve often heard kids described as “good kids,” and have been guilty of doing such describing myself. More and more, it bothers me.