These should be my people. I should be one of them.
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.
My youngest brother always had a spacial place in my heart. I watched him grow through years of yeshiva and then, little by little, as his relationship with Orthodox Judaism shifted and morphed into something that belongs to only him and G-d.
(Cue Itzhak Perlman playing something in a minor key.)
The days of black and white definitions are gone. We are colorful, dynamic and full of texture -- and our connection to Gd defies all bins.
It’s Purim and everything is upside down the way it’s supposed to be...And it is here that I can let my dad’s present absence in.
Rachel exposes herself as she never has before. Through poetry, photography, and an essay, Rachel exposes her fears and journey towards Jewish observance.
Ahava Emunah confesses to being a former obsessor over parenting styles (of her's and others), and why she chose to give that perspective up.
Confronting the intimidating chaos of life with my son and an introspective man at shul.
I'm in Cambodia, and I just found out that part of my house burned down. My parents are okay, but everything is gone. And yet... nothing's changed.
