Life Lessons

My decisiveness has been a real blessing. My instincts are pretty great. But my prejudices, narrowmindedness, laziness and fear stand in the way of recognizing new opportunities...

Physical life is transient and temporary. If one can take the material and elevate it—to any degree—is that not a privilege? Surely, this endeavor I speak of is a meaningful way of remembering the spiritual qualities of Ruthie—her goodness, her modesty, her “let’s dress well but our souls must shine too” attitude . . .

I didn’t know what he wanted. Confused, I didn’t answer. In its niche at the back of my mind, the horrible truth wriggled and stretched. People don’t like Jews, my darling...

For most of my life, I never saw crying as an expected, positive, and even necessary part of life—not to mention something one would ever do in front of other people. I always thought crying was, well, shameful. At best, a sign of weakness and deficiency; at worst, a symptom of immaturity and petulance. However, several life experiences have since changed my perspective . . .

I try to get back to that place within in me that still reaches unceasingly for meaning. I can't get back. As I kiss my children good bye by the door, the glare of the morning sun is sharp and unforgiving. I want to climb, to run, to inspire. But the heaviness tugs at me, warning me to pause, to rest, to give up...

There comes a time in a religious woman’s experience when you do things by rote, and everything numbs over.

I remembered the good bye I had given my husband that morning: a garbled jumble of vowels, consonants and the last gulp of my coffee, a flick of my wrist as I picked up the baby, my bag, the garbage and then ran up the steps, leaving the door wide open behind me. Now I wondered, what had happened to the inspiration? Where was it hiding?

We were given two eyes for two very different purposes; our left eye, to look at ourselves critically, and our right to look at others with kindness...

Perhaps my initial feeling of embarrassment stemmed from societal pressure. Thanking G-d just wasn’t in the script I’d been handed. But another part of me knew that I had discovered something beautiful. I decided to add the acknowledgement to my conversations. This proved to be problematic...

I would hate to think that one day my children will grow up and feel inferior because they can't do something on their own. I would be devastated if they don't turn to me to ask for advice or assistance because I taught them that they had to be perfect and to do everything by themselves...

Watching an increasing number of my peers and family become ill and suffer in various ways, my sensitivity to and appreciation for all the gorgeous details of life began to grow. I was watching my gratitude for being alive bloom, like sights of a spring morning. I actually began embracing the idea and practice of celebrating...

On a night intended to commemorate our eleventh anniversary, and our treasured connection to each other, we celebrate instead the kindness of strangers, and the delicate and fragile strands of life's web...

I wanted the college degree, nice house, a great spouse, plenty of kids, and wonderful relationships. Who doesn’t? I don’t think it’s wrong to want and strive for all those things, but it also begs the question that when all is said and done, are you truly a winner?

I didn't realize the number of soldiers who died here, nor did I comprehend how young they were. I found myself having trouble breathing a lot of the time...

Of course I wanted to honor my Zaydie and his memory, but I also wanted to honor my son and his choices for his special day. Then I took an even deeper look at the situation. Maybe there was something more sinister. Maybe the real concern was how I would appear with my son wearing such a tallit...

She turned round quickly and her flippers sent a cloud of tiny bubbles towards my mask. When they cleared I saw her signaling frantically: she clutched her throat a few times and then held her hand out towards me. The bubbles that were supposed to be drifting out of her mouth piece were no longer there...

Ironically, the hardest shots to block on WiiFit soccer are the ones that come at you dead center. Indeed, finding my center is the challenge. It's relatively easy to live within any narrowly-defined culture. Yes, it's restraining, but the parameters of making decisions are also easier...

The bus drove by a group of schoolchildren. These children wore jeans, colored sweatshirts, sneakers—they looked like "real kids." My eyes met those of the little boy nearest the bus. I smiled at him, waving. The little boy raised his arm and pointed. "Zydi!" (Jews!)

I berated myself, did a self critique that led to assassination of my character and driving skills and I also bargained with G‑d. However, I never once praised Him or thanked Him for averting disaster...