Take the wheel firmly, assuredly. Know control is not absolute.
For many, today is the first day of school. I planned on writing this piece with advice for parents and...
“Mommy, next time you daven to Hashem can you please, please, ask for another baby?”
There was something different about us, those whose parents came to halachic Judaism later in life -- and I wondered if it was just me who noticed it.
I refuse to be the mother of a daughter/ Who spends her whole life believing/ She isn’t enough/ to let my daughter be brought up/ in a world that believes/ She is only something/ When she has a wedding ring.
Is there a security in believing we fully know the ones we love?
What if watching the Olympics together would spark something in her that I cannot control?
If that security guard/Were to ask me today/“Little girl are you lost?”/.../The unspoken answer/Would be yes
Somehow, we learn that modesty is about externals. About hemlines. About shame. About sex. Yet is it?
I am eight years old, lying in my parents bed. In another room, my parents are arguing. I drift away feeling this was all my fault. That somehow, I am responsible for the pain and rage around me. That somehow, I have to fix things. That somehow, I am only lovable if I am perfect. It's a heavy, heavy burden to bear. And now I am a mother of four, still bearing this weight.
