Elana Mizrahi

I dialed the number for the Health Ministry. They told me that if the message was sent to me, it was not a mistake, and that I must go into quarantine for two weeks

No children are in the street, no one is strolling. The parks are blocked off; all stores, except for supermarkets, are closed. It’s quiet. It’s empty. It’s eerie. It’s so sad, and I know it’s not just us. It’s the current state of the world.

I can’t see clients in person or do treatments. I miss my clients, miss the personal human touch and contact with them, as well as with my friends and peers. My clinic is empty and so, like most of the world, is our tangible source of income.

I grew up eating kosher at home, but I had no idea how to go about making a kitchen kosher I also didn’t know how to cook, let alone for a bunch of people!

Every single Jew is a building brick in the process. Every child that comes into the world is a miracle and an entire world. At any age and at any stage, we don’t know what will happen or how.

My husband comes from a large family. Never would I have imagined that he would be sitting as a mourner alone.

In the past few years, I have coached and mentored many women, and I am seeing a common trend among many—the fear of being judged, the fear of appearing “not normal,” fears of imperfection, and feeling misunderstood and alone.

How many things have I tried to change—a situation or a chronic condition—and nothing seemed to work?

I have learned with time and experience that when one doesn’t bend, one breaks, but at the same time, if not firmly grounded, it’s only too easy to knocked off your feet.

In order for me to transmit anything to my children, I need communication. In order to maintain a loving relationship, I need understanding. That means for me, at least, I must always make it clear that the doors of language remain wide open.