This is so in any endeavor. No matter what knowledge we come prepared with, we must be able to give in such a way that to receive is an integral aspect of the process.
An anonymous writer from the Hasidic world wrestles with her conscience... and her husband... over whether she can handle having more children.
A stranger on a rooftop teaches Elizabeth how to keep Shabbat and keep her sanity.
The universe is built to break down. And so are we. When we do the opposite, we are doing magic.
NYC is glorious: the street life, the food, the energy. But Boston is much cheaper and carries much less stress. The dilemma is intense and even spiritual.
Somehow my grandparents didn't seem to fear for my demise like my parents did, which is why they were sanctuaries to me as a teenager.
Intimate sharing is wonderful to a point, but dangerous and even bone-chilling beyond that point. The implications are deep and potentially mystical.
“Mommy, next time you daven to Hashem can you please, please, ask for another baby?”
I resist the urge to grab him by his arms and shake him. Instead, straddling life and death, I am patient.
