How the cookie crumbles

I love cookies, especially if they're Stars of David. This being the area that it is, I thought these certainly would be called "snowflakes" to make them more palatable to the Christian community, but I was pleasantly surprised. My son and I don't have exactly discerning tastes, so we have been eating them with relish. My daughter, between having a head cold and not being as susceptible to sugar as we are, decided she doesn't like them. What can you do?

This has been an interesting year and seems as though it will be an interesting holiday season as well. Since my daughter is in first grade, the class is branching out to discuss the different heritages of the class and their holiday traditions. They even had a brief lesson on Chanukah, during which she found she was the only student who knew that Chanukah lasts eight nights and involves the lighting of the menorah. I can't say that she really knows or understands much more than the basics of Chanukah, but it was thrilling to see her bounding in from school, bursting to tell me that she had known something about being Jewish. When will it be the right time to discuss the religious make up of this family? The time may come sooner than later, as more people take note that we light a menorah or overhear her practicing her blessings. Every now and again I can overhear a quiet "Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu..." For me, it's wonderful to know that she is interested and embracing Judaism along with me. It would be even more wonderful and I think peaceful if we were settled and secure in our identity as Jews. I made an agreement with my husband that I wouldn't take any additional steps beyond learning while he was deployed, so that surety is a ways off. I am looking forward to the day when I can walk up to my rabbi and say, "It is time...I am ready." Until then, the children and I will continue to walk in the balance and wait.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

I am enjoying these Introduction to Judaism classes so much! It's a chance to discuss different basic topics. A time to ask the nagging little questions that I can never think of when I run into the rabbi at other times, and which are too small to bother with sending an email to ask. It's also a great way to exchange and compare ideas with others, as well as just sharing time with friends.

Another great feature of these Sunday afternoons is being able to find one on one time with the rabbi if I need it. Last Sunday was one of those days, although talking with him was unintentional until I realized my worries about my mother were already pouring out to his sympathetic ear. My rabbi is a very easy person to share with, although no conversation ends without being given something to think about and turn over in my mind.

What stuck with me from this conversation was his gentle questioning on how my faith journey is coming. With so much going on over the past few months, I have to admit my movement has come to a standstill. I am forever questioning myself whether I still believe converting is the right thing to do for myself, but also for my family. We have so many stressors right now that I don't feel at liberty to simply throw another one into the mix and hope the batter doesn't go flying. Thankfully, Rabbi understands and agrees with my assessment. He said something about things not progressing swiftly, and I agreed that that was not in the cards, to which he nodded. In this case, it is not the best thing to be the swiftest. Just as I read to my children, slow and steady will win the race. With a supportive group of people to cheer me on, I have no doubt that will be true.

I could use some help

I'm sure I've mentioned in past posts that I'm a military spouse. My husband is preparing for a deployment in the not-too-distant future, and I have to admit that I'm not usually the best at handling bad situations. I tend to fuss and fight it as long as possible before I finally relax and let what will be, be.

Unfortunately, that relaxing is even harder to find when I don't have a strong faith or community behind me to "catch" my fall. Although I know I could speak with my rabbi, and he has told me repeatedly he's more than willing to be a sounding board as well as a source of wisdom...somehow I just can't find it within me to burden him with my personal troubles beyond those occasioned by conversion. This doesn't speak well of me as a person, I'm sure. I don't know if it's pride, fear of showing weakness, or fear of being rejected for being too flawed. Of course, talking about it in a forum like this makes it seem even more ridiculous that I'm afraid to open up to my rabbi about my struggles.

I suppose it's sort of a "super Jew" complex: I want to be the "perfect" convert. I want to know all the answers, I want to parrot the right responses, feel the right emotions, and be the "right" person. Because Jewish conversion is not an "I accept you" conversion, but a "will you accept me" conversion, it makes it that much more difficult to want to show vulnerability to others. Why would anyone in the Jewish community want me to be a part of it? I seem to be a needy woman who doesn't have much to give. What can I give to Klal Yisrael? I ask myself that repeatedly, and come up blank. There are more than enough learned Jews. Since my children will not be converting (at least not until they are adults and able to convert of their own free choosing), I can't offer a new line to add to the Jewish lineage. I am not coming as a counterpart to a Jewish man, I am coming alone as a woman.

I hope I find myself more grounded once this deployment gets underway than I am feeling right now as it approaches.

Mental Wrestling is Physically Tiring

I was speaking with my rabbi several months ago. The week before he had asked me several difficult questions about my desire to pursue Judaism, and I had been near tears while expressing my answers. The following week I walked into the Hebrew class calm and in a pleasant mood. After the lesson was through and we were packing our things to leave, he asked how I was doing. When I told him simply, "doing pretty well," he smirked (yes, my rabbi is capable of smirking, as horribly disrespectful as that sounds) and observed that I must have decided to put the mental, emotional, spiritual fight to the side and not think about it. I had to agree with him.

Choosing to stop believing and living in the way you were raised is not easy. Making a decision as to whether that is the right thing or not is even more difficult. I find myself wishing I could let go of this tug-of-war and simply be whatever it is I am meant to be. There are times when my soul cries out for relief, for peace, for G-d to step in and put me on the right path for me. How am I ever to know I am on the right path? Unlike a path through the woods, which can be lost but retraced to restore one to the original way, a life cannot be relived. Once a decision has been made, a path has been chosen, there is no turning back for a "redo" or "do-over." There is no way of knowing which spiritual path is "correct" until one reaches the end and steps over that threshold into what lies ahead. Many times I've wished nothing lay ahead...how easy to fall into a conscious-less slumber, with nothing to answer for and no one to please.

I don't know what to think. I don't know what to believe. I am frightened by my own ignorance, and disempowered by confusion. Will I ever find my way out of this labyrinth I've entered, or will I wander here forever? How can I lead my children if I can't find the way myself?

I am at a loss.