Reflections

As my four grandsons watched wide-eyed, I could feel all the bubbies and zaidies in the room . . .

he knocking persisted. I took the baby out of his bath, wrapping him in a towel, and made my way to the front door. “Who is it?” I looked in the peephole and saw an eleven-year-old from the neighborhood . . .

A curious thing happens when you must be calm, when you don’t have the luxury of expressing your frustration, when what you want to do and what you must do are irreconcilably at odds, and little can be done to alleviate the frustration of a body and mind that want but cannot have...

My old high-school friend Jillian had posted that she was reading a particular book, and I commented that it was not a favorite of mine. I closed the page, went back to work and thought nothing more of it, and I probably wouldn’t have, until the phone rang just an hour later...

In my relationships, particularly with my kids, whatever is painful or dysfunctional seems to eclipse the good, to obliterate it . . .

In a state of shock immediately following the crash, I did not remember being pregnant, having two other children who were in the car, or being married. I felt like I was sixteen, without any responsibility to anyone but myself . . .

Isn’t it interesting that today I decided, perhaps out of necessity, that I needed to establish a spirit and body routine to start the day.

The strength within us, the support that re-grounds us in our uncertainty and insecurity, the part of us competing in this war with the external forces and energies that dare to blind us and steal us away from who we really are . . .

Sometimes I get stuck and I need direction. Sometimes I feel like I am at a crossroads in life. There is a fork in the road and I don’t know whether to go right or left. I sit in the road and wait for some bright neon sign saying, “This way to redemption!” But for some reason it never comes . . .

My mind began reeling in annoyance about how busy I am, about all the things I have to do, and how I have to get to work. And on top of it, how I have to wait and be pulled into the vortex of somebody else’s life...

“Why can’t you just be normal?” As someone who grew up in a secular household and later became more observant, I get this kind of question a lot. And while I’m perfectly comfortable with not being “normal,” I also wonder what’s so special about normality...

This is not a theme I think I’ll ever understand fully. This one of movements and perspectives. The way my movements in physical space are metaphors for the bigger picture, tell a story greater than themselves . . .

Chagai changed my whole attitude towards situations I had previously thought of as limiting. Now, instead of looking at them in terms of 'cannot', I look at them as challenges to conquer. The problem may not necessarily be cured, but it does not have to hold you back...

We want the perfect hair, clothes, body. Society and our culture these days don't do much to help the situation. On the contrary- it's in our faces- plastered on billboards and magazine covers...

We are united by a singular cause: to feel good and look good. People walk in with all types of garb that hides their overweight body parts. But once they change into gym clothes, there is nothing to hide and no one is judging one other. We’re all in the same boat!

Taking some ground meat out of the freezer to defrost, the prospect of the meatloaf that would eventually be served that evening just seemed to compound the ordinariness of her life...

The seniors at the home had amazing stories to tell about their lives and their families. Some were survivors and others were lonely and just wanted a visitor...

What we found out made my heart sink. This man had been coming there for many years. Always sitting in the same place for most of the day. Always hungry. Always needing. Always maintaining his dignity never asking for anything or saying a word to any patrons...