New to my story or need a refresher? In the last four years, I left an unhealthy marriage; moved; bought a house and moved again; dabbled in dating; started rabbinical school; quit rabbinical school (or maybe it quit me?); got laid off from my job; scrambled as a freelancer for 8 months; landed a new and very full full-time job; and continued raising two (now) teenage sons. Oh, and we have a dog. I take care of her, too.
“The beginning is always today.” –Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
For a long time now, I feel like I’ve been in either overwhelm, survival, or post-survival/recovery mode. In those spaces, goal setting seemed impossible. One day at a time was all I could handle—or even imagine. But somehow, I’ve come to a place where goal setting seems possible. Hallelujah and blessed be!
In setting new goals, I want to be intentional. I want to bring my whole self—fed and formed over 43.5 years by a variety of people, interests, and communities—into this moment. I want to be my unique, best self—now and going forward. So far, I’ve had an interesting journey. I’ve tried things. I’ve explored. Some paths I walked on for a bit, but then branched off when the trail opened up. Some paths closed themselves off completely, and even when I tried using a machete to hack my way through, I couldn’t go any further. Each of the paths I walked helped inform the person I am today. I honor those paths and those parts of my history, those parts of me. Continue reading
I’ve never truly been poor. At times of critical need, my parents have helped me out. I am lucky to have family to fall back on—that’s part of my privilege. But my experience of being a single mom for the last three+ years while earning not quite enough to make ends meet, then getting laid off eight months ago (with no unemployment benefits, ahem!), scrambling to find work, and finding myself underemployed…well, it’s taught me some things.
“One must be poor to know the luxury of giving.” –George Eliot
Some of my white ancestors came to what is now the United States of America in the mid-1650’s, fleeing religious persecution in Europe. Their presence in this land implicates them in what white people did to the native peoples who once lived here. It probably implicates them in what white people did to Africans who were brought here and enslaved, too. Continue reading
Today, I sat in a doctor’s office and heard my son’s heartbeat through an ultrasound machine for the first time in almost 15 years. Fifteen years ago, I was the one lying on a table having the sonogram, feeling both excited and somewhat terrified at impending parenthood.
This morning, my 14 ½ year old didn’t quite fit on the exam table; his legs and feet hung over the side. I don’t know how he felt as he watched his heart from every possible angle on a tiny screen, hearing that rhythmic swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. But as for me, I felt… Continue reading
Before you read the brief remarks I offered at my grandmother’s memorial service, here are a few things you should know.
First, my grandfather left her for another woman in 1962. She was 36 years old, with three kids (ages 15, 14, and 8) but no marketable skills or work experience. Her second husband died of cancer. Her third husband (well… they weren’t technically married) died suddenly while we were all on family vacation together in Colorado (this explains why I’m not eager to visit hot springs anywhere). Her oldest son died about twelve years ago from complications of multiple sclerosis. She herself was a cancer survivor. Oh, and she was one of the main founders of this organization: http://samaritanhouse.org/.
The obituary says that my grandma died on Halloween, but really she died the day before. Here’s what I said at her memorial service: Continue reading
The government shutdown drags on. Watching Congress’ continued “incredible ineptitude,” as the United Methodist Women have called it, with increasing frustration, incredulity, and a sense of powerlessness, I now find myself feeling towards our elected officials the way a preschool teacher feels toward three-year olds who won’t share their toys. Continue reading
As I write this, the first of the Jewish High Holy Days, Rosh Hashanah, is less than two days away—and (to paraphrase Rabbi Alan Lew), I am completely unprepared.
The month of Elul, now rapidly coming to a close, is meant to be a time of preparation. During this month, we sound the shofar every day—its blast meant to rouse us from the slumber of our lives, to shake us into awareness and cause us to reflect: How am I living in the world? What relationships need attention and repair? Am I on the right path? How can I make better, more conscious choices in the new year? Continue reading