When G‑d commanded Moses to build the Holy Tabernacle, He instructed, “You shall build a sanctuary and I will dwell within them.” A favorite among Chassidic masters is the explanation for the seeming slip-up of the plural versus singular—that in fact, G‑d desires a sanctuary within each of us, a holy dwelling in our own lives. With this, the story of the building of the construction of the sanctuary and its vessels takes on an entirely new meaning.

As an emissary of the Lubavitcher Rebbe for most of my adult life—and as one who grew up as a child of Chabad shluchim—I have lived with the adage of bringing holiness into my own life and letting it spill over into my direct environment, and as far as possible from there.

In their 40 years of desert wandering, the Israelites took 42 journeys in all, some occurring in close proximity to one another. Each time they traveled, they disassembled and then rebuilt the Tabernacle. I, too, have had my share of travels.

I grew up in Michigan and studied in Chicago; Brooklyn, N.Y.; and Tzfat, Israel. After marrying, I moved from Brooklyn to Bangkok and Chiang Mai Thailand, and then back to the United States to Philadelphia, and then finally, to Huntingdon Valley, Pa., where I presently reside.

In each place, I made it my business to spread and strengthen Jewish life to the best of my abilities. As a mother, my primary responsibility is creating a personal sanctuary for my family at every stop along the way.

After more than a decade of working as assistant rabbi and rebbetzin, our dream of opening our own independent Chabad center came true during the winter of 2011, when some dear friends made it possible for us to open our own Chabad Israeli Center. We packed our things and moved from Northeast Philadelphia.

At that time, our property was located between two empty lots. With plenty of space, we began programming, including weekly Shabbat services, holiday celebrations, Torah classes, Hebrew school and more. During the first several years of operation, we witnessed the construction of three new homes. We would often watch through our kitchen and bedroom windows, particularly the house right next to ours. At times, I dared to dream what it would be like to live in the lovely house next door.

A dear friend, Rosie Weinstein, encouraged me to continue to dream and to pray, reminding me that “it certainly isn’t too hard for G‑d” to make dreams come true. Soon afterwards, we welcomed our new neighbors. We shared a driveway, and although our neighbors were very friendly, respectful and helpful (even helping us shovel out the driveway), the noise and traffic from the shul soon became a nuisance.

Several months after the arrival of our new neighbors, my husband, Rabbi Levy Weber, was summoned to the township office. We were asked to move our operations to a larger space, or we would have to pay a heavy daily fine for violations of local code. Kathy, our kind neighbor, loved us dearly but had had enough.

And so, we packed our bags and moved to a larger home. The new location had a sizable garage that we renovated into an interim shul and community center. The four-acre lot provided plenty of parking space and offered us the opportunity for growth. Meanwhile, a large commercial space approximately two miles away was purchased and remodeled to serve as the shul, Hebrew school and community center.

After six years of miracles—sprinkled with hard work and lots of communal support—the shul was finally ready. But because it was far from our present house, it was time for us to yet again find a new home to live in.

Driving back from shul one day, my husband saw a for-sale sign; this time, in front of Kathy’s house! He knocked on the door and offered to buy it. With G‑d’s help (and again with the support of some amazing people), we were able to buy the very house we watched being built right next door to our first Chabad center. It was a house that I knew well; in fact, from the moment the foundation had been laid. I had to pinch myself as I walked through it for the first time as the homeowner. Miracles happen. And I am grateful.

Chabad Chassidim around the world consider “770” their spiritual home and often use this number as sort of a positive sign, adding it to the end of telephone numbers, license plates and the like. In this simple building, thousands of us gathered over the course of several decades to gain inspiration and light from our leader and visionary, the Rebbe. In 770, we huddled together on cramped balconies to catch a glimpse of this holy man, hear his voice or receive a dollar and a blessing. Every Chabad House around the world views itself as a “mini-770,” or at the very least, a branch of it. So, you can well imagine my elation to learn that our new address would include these digits: 2770!

Often, I imagine what it must have been like for the families living during the Exodus. The upheaval of a move with a family of children and lots of belongings is something I have experienced on several occasions. I muse at the messages and meanings within the texts and stories. Our sages teach us that although modern life often seems to move at an astonishingly fast pace, it parallels the stories and experiences written in the Torah.

Just as in the story of the Israelites wandering in the desert, each step of our family’s journey has brought us to a new dimension in our personal lives, as well as in our mission as Chabad emissaries. Making each move was challenging, but living in a bigger space was an opportunity of growth. Instead of thwarting our activities, the impetus to move was akin to the Divine cloud moving off the tabernacle; it was a message for us that it was time to move onwards.

While moving isn’t easy, it’s also necessary to get to the next step. There is no reason to feel resentment towards any individual for an action that may seem as if it was done against us or to thwart our activities. They were messengers sent by G‑d to guide us on to the next step. As I finally merit to make 2770 a mini-sanctuary for my family and community, I am filled with gratitude to our former neighbors, who painstakingly maintained our present home over the past six years.

As my house fills with the aroma of freshly baked challah and my children set the dining-room table to welcome guests, I hope to merit bringing many Jewish souls closer to their Jewish roots.

Often, the problem is the beginning of the solution. And sometimes, you need to travel a bit so that you can feel the joy of coming home.