Blogging without Obligation

I came across this little logo on another blog tonight. I had actually been intending to write a blog about how I was so busy, I didn't have time to really blog...and then I read this. I think sometimes we push ourselves to find things that are blog-worthy just so we don't lose the interest of others. I know I've thought to myself, "I really need to blog again...how long has it been?" But with so many other "real" obligations in life, why do I need yet another one hanging over my head? We are down to countable days before my husband is mobilized for his deployment, and a week before my daughter and I start back to our schools. I'm trying to enjoy this time as much as possible by staying up until the sun has set, sleeping in until the children rise, and doing as many things as we can fit into a day. There is paperwork to sign and file, people to visit, places to go, food to eat...and yet the best time is that spent quietly together as a couple and a family, cuddled in our bed with the world and its problems far away from our sunny summer mornings.

Mondays will be back. Rain and chilly weather will come. There will be a time when there is no one to talk with and my blog may be my best confidante. But until that time comes, the blog will wait, because time will not.

I hope you're all having a good last few weeks of summer...squeeze it all in, wring every last drop from it, and save the light of fireflies in a jar until the time for lighting rows of candles has come again. Shalom!

Night

I read the book Night years ago. Our seventh grade teachers worked together to create a history and English collective unit which would address the Holocaust and our literary goals at the same time. It's amazing how a month or two of intensive study of a single topic can impact one's view of the world for a lifetime. Perhaps the reason behind that is the topic itself: the Holocaust.

Most of the history classes I've taken have given a brief overview of the Holocaust. It's assumed that everyone simply knows about it, having picked up the knowledge through osmosis in our culture. Who doesn't recognize the names Mengele, Eichmann, Himmler, Goering, or Hitler? Who hasn't seen Schindler's List and doesn't remember the little girl in red? Who hasn't read or seen The Diary of Anne Frank? Who hasn't heard of Auschwitz-Birkenau, Buchenwald, Dachau, Treblinka, or Sobibor?

Perhaps these names and images are so familiar to me because of that unit, but a long time has passed between then and now. As I'm reading in preparation for conversion, I'm viewing these places, people, and events with the eyes of an adult, a parent, and a Jew. Rather than thinking as I did then how thankful I was not to have been in jeopardy, I think "What if this happens again? What am I exposing myself and my children to?" The largest question looming, overarching, is "Is this worth it?"

No one wants to face such things. No one wants to put their children in harm's way. It's startling to think that I have the power of choice, when so many millions did not. It's humbling, it's frightening, and at times it feels shameful. How dare I ask myself these things, when others are simply born into it, and live as they are? Is it selfish to want to protect my children when so many others wanted the same and had no say? How could it not be?

I will never be a replacement for all those who were lost. That's simply not possible, unthinkable. How can I honor their memory? According to Elie Wiesel, we honor their memory by not letting it die. We must continue to share their stories, to remember what befell them, and to make sure that it never happens again, to anyone.