בנשמה

Ten minutes to say goodbye. Stroke of the grey hair, kiss of the yellow complexion and tears masked by wrinkles.  So went my morning. Goodbyes are never easy and my anticipation, what I would say,  was that and more.  How to say goodbye to a mother...  I did that.  And as I sit bug eyed on the plane not from tears but bewilderment, I'm not sure how.  Since my father's passing I have a sister who looks for signs. She's shared finding meaning in songs that play on her car radio. Her bed rest during pregnancy led her to a new job that brought our mom into the best care for lymphoma treatment, and of that, she was cured.  We got two more years with our mother. And welcomed three new beautiful baby boys all named after our father.  We won't ever know for sure what brought on pancreatic cancer so quickly. Maybe it was there or perhaps the clinical trial. We won't ever know. My sister also would find signs within  license plates with codes she finds...

Yesterday I woke up, feeling as though our living in Israel was a dream. It was the oddest realization of how quickly the sparkle of the Holy Land fades. And while there's much to be thankful for the support of America and American Zionism, piecing together the delicate balance between the two for those who choose to live here or there, travel back and forth, is seemingly complicated to the very essence of our soul. Or at least it does to mine. It is masked quite heavily with excuses, priorities, comforts, economical advantages and so forth. My mom told me today to enjoy the best of both worlds and not to be a chafifnik. That in our times, it's just a matter of money. Plan ahead, go to simchas and keep at it. And she's incredibly proud that we are are living in the Chosen Land. It wasn't until 2-3 weeks ago that she had shared with me these feelings. It'll now be our third Shabbat here, Yom tov also approaching soon and our flight back on October 23rd. See...

There are a lot of Jews in Teaneck. Gorgeous houses, green grass, trees and leaves. Walking to shul for yizkor on Yom Kippur, the cold and rain crept into my bones. Earlier that morning, I woke up, peering out the window and missing the spirituality of Israel. It's a realization I haven't had, until coming back here and understanding what a huge leap - - of faith - - our family made. My sister tells me of a Facebook post someone wrote how they always wanted to make aliyah but can't because they are in debt. I do not know this person. But if you could imagine, for a moment, they likely own a house they put a 5-25% down payment on, a car, maybe 3-4 kids and paying tuition through their noses. אם תירצו אין זו אגדה. Or as they say, when there's a will, there's a way.  Israel is definitely not meant for everyone. I've listed its pros and cons.  But I never recognized its largest pro as that of the core of our very essence and spiritual...

In one of the last few posts I noted how there's lack of pumpkin spice and spirit, the Fall feel and no seasons in Israel. Rightfully so. Well, after deliberation and back and forth, news from the United States didn't get any better of my mother's illness (stage 4 pancreatic cancer, after two years battling lymphoma and the passing of my father).  Thursday morning we purchased tickets to JFK airport. Roughly 2 hours into the flight I chocked on a piece of meat. That was scary. We don't always think about the wonder of every breath we take, until it stops. Only by standing up (which I'm not sure why I did), I was able to swallow. A true miracle. Just a few more seconds and my ribs would have been broken by the flight attendant and another passenger who knew cpr. That's the issue when it comes to huge traumatic events - - mind over matter becomes a struggle. The flight made the day feel like a Yom Arichta. The plane was packed and we did not re...