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
I cry
For the broken relationships and shattered dreams
For expectations reputations justifications
I cry
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.
So Donald Trump is president and half of America is mourning. And plenty are elated. My Facebook feed, mostly non-Orthodox Jews, is dominated by mourning. People lamenting the loss of normalcy, of values, of shattering the glass ceiling once and for all. People describing the emotions like losing a loved one.
There’s a certain anxiety when you haven’t blogged in awhile, like your next post better have been worth the wait. I recently switched from Blogger to WordPress and I’m still adjusting to this new relationship, but today I downloaded the WordPress app on my phone, and it’s waaay more lovable than the actual site. So here I am blogging on my phone, deciding to just be casual and conversational and not let the blogger bogeyman get me down.