In the beginning....

Given the right set of eyes the world is fantastical.  Every step met with adventure and intrigue.
Where are we heading?
What will happen next?

Truly our life is a mystery.
All of us braided in and out of each others stories.  Twisting  and turning as our plots thicken and more characters are introduced...some with cameo appearances, others with leading roles.

This morning, as I ushered David to pre-op,  I begged Gd for insight.  Maybe this one time Hashem could break some divine protocol and give a hint to how the plot of The Jess & David show was shaping up.   Possibly throw a bit of prophecy my way so we could sleep at night knowing our chapter for Elul would end and start anew with... "And they lived happily ever after, with 4 healthy children, a decent bank account, lots of laughter, and a summer home in Israel."

I davened shemona esrei, pausing at the prayer for insight, but it was shaping up to be a  day without mystical answers.  I fell back into the slippery slope of complacency as I watched Rachel Ray say annoying catch phrases on her equally annoying show in the waiting room.  I figured I'd eat, but not sure where I'd find a kosher place.  I asked the nearest Jew.  It's no great feet to spot a religious Jew;  he had a long beard and his tzit tzit were hanging out.  His eyes smiled when he told me he hadn't a clue.  I thought nothing of it and figured I'd walk until I reached Lexington.

Upon return, I was greeted by my new waiting room friend.  His hand bandaged and his smile wider. "Do you know Elul is the month of tchuva?" "Kind of",I said, "but I thought Elul is short for ani li do di li do di ani (I am my beloved as my beloved is to me)".  Something said at Jewish weddings, but I've recently come to understand as my relationship with Gd as well.  His smile infectious, he continued "my son was born 11 years ago today...just as the towers were falling and the world seemed to be ending, he was born at the beginning....today is the birth of the world."

Just the  hint of prophecy I needed from the cameo appearance of a smiling patient.  David's surgery comes at the start of the world.
How fitting.
How absolutely perfect in our plot...there's my insight.

Today's the start of a new chapter.  David and I are about to write a discovery into a new journey.  The plot will thicken and the rewards greater.

Frequently we'd visit the idea of adding on therapists, expanding the practice, finding more time for fun, family, and study...rather than the drudgery of work.  This is our breshit (meaning, in the beginning).

So here's how I'm starting our chapter, Once upon a time a fantastic Physical Therapist named David tore his bicep right off the bone catching a patient who was about to fall and re-fracture her hip.  Our hero had his surgery to repair his arm, made a complete recovery, and confounded the medical community with his new super-human bionic arm.  And the Goldman family lived happily ever after...Judah became a great rabbi, Willow editor-in-chief of the NY Times,  Zoe the ambassador of goodwill to Somalya, and Liv the Prime Minister of Israel.  David and Jess now host a show on the travel channel and split their time between their home in englewood, ranch in Montana, apartment in the old city of Jerusalem, and teepee in Matchupeechu.

Shana Tova!

Subtle sweetness in the process

This past friday, I woke with a full 7 hours of sleep (not bad for a mom with a new born who keeps vampires hours).   Friday morning offered promise; kids all making it on the bus without a lunch misplaced, challah dough rising, and enough sleep to power my brain through the errands any mom faces on a daily basis.

All-in-all Friday was an obedient pet...who knew Fluffy could become a drewling Kugo so quickly.

Before launching full throttle into a line up of to-do's, I penned the words  "Subtle  sweetness in the process".  I figured with so much sleep for the first time in almost 3 months, I was ready to get my blog on.  I wasn't sure what I had wrote but told myself at the time it had everything to do with the ease of the morning.

I happened to be loading my car full of groceries when I got a call from David (my husband).  My voice oozed cheer, after all I was one of those people who slept through the night!!!   I was glowing!  And as David spoke my glow quickly became gloom.  His voice didn't sound right.  An elderly patient had almost fallen and he went to catch her and he thought his bicep tore...he heard a pop.  Nothing in his voice sounded hopeful.  David, the unstoppable force, the rock of Gibraltar to myself and my kids, the man who can tackle anything and always come out shining, the guy that legends are made from (yes, I'm that much a fan of my husband when I'm not ready to kill him for leaving a trail of sweaty running clothes to our bed);  had a hint of horror in his typically sweet tone.

Crisis Jess stepped in; I hadn't seen her since 9/11 and before I could blink we were in an orthopedic surgeons office.  Then an MRI facility in hackensack.  Then emailing, texting, and forming every damn plan I could think of to keep his business and our family running.  All the while chanting
, "we will get through this". This all sounds very dramatic, and it is, because David is a physical therapist with his own clinic that needs that arm to treat his patients.  My family of 4 children rely on that arm.  And every indication, even prior to the MRI, was he tore the bicep from the bone and needed surgery.  (which is the verdict from the MRI reports now)

After our hours of drs and an MRI, I headed home in a complete fog determined to make my challah before Shabbat.  I lifted the dough out of the bowl and for the first time I  felt like chucking it across the kitchen, where was the subtle sweetness in the process?????  My early morning challah dough epiphany that was so frigin insightful I had to write down.

Then it hit me...It all made sense but I hated the damn words, I hated the damn process.  Every day, hour, minute, second a choice is made that can easily alter us.  What may seem to break us, Gd willing, will be what makes us.  It all comes down to what we choose to make out of the obstacles thrown our way.  Do we go belly up? Scream bloody murder? Or face it head on with the kind of confidence in Gd only our 4 fathers could muster up in chapters 1-5 in the Torah.

As David and I face this new twist in the plot, our heads are high, our fists are up, and we're ready to go 10 more rounds to beat the ever loving crap out of this new obstacle.  There's hope on the horizon. The subtle sweetness in the process is the victory of the fight.

 "shake off the dust and arise". (to quote king David and a psalm I just can't remember the exact number of)

Now to actually buy into every last word I wrote and throw on a smile when I just don't feel like it.

Tune in and turn off...

After 7 long years of struggling to parent my children, I have had an epiphany!

To be a great parent is to shut down the frontal lobe of the brain and just go with "it".
It's so simple yet it was so freakin' hard for me to do, let alone discover.

Todays kids are over-booked, bogged down with work (if you're in the world of Yeshiva there's both English and Hebrew work), and expected to be motivated with crazy amounts of activities until their little heads hit the pillow.  Every parent magazine is guilting me into a crafts nightmare.  They all boast their fun activities with the kids...create anything out of a toilet paper roll....blah blah blah.  Granted there is a time for all of that but I draw the line at making fun shapes with food...a boat made of hot dogs, carrots, and pretzels is when I say WHEN.

NPR news was just reporting the "importance of teaching your 12 month old a new language".  I get that the whole education crap is great and people want to build an uber-cyborg child ready to take on the white house at 12 but  personally I give up.  The summer is meant for silly fun, not lessons in Fencing for your 4 year old.

My childhood was nothing if not fun...and I was rarely watched.  A quick itinerary of my average day consisted of; a pick up hockey game with neighborhood kids, peeling bark off of trees, throwing rocks at glass windows of a nearby abandoned warehouse, debating who knew the best swear words, hikes to find ancient arrow heads near the reservoir, freaking out another friend with a ghost story, walking to Jim's Variety for lemon heads, making up MAD LIBS with fowl words, and so much more.  We made our own fun.  The TV, which was non- existant in my apartment, was not on.  I spent my days and nights exploring my world and creating mischief and mayhem whenever and where ever.

It's now Thursday and my crazy crew will soon be home from camp.  My plan is to turn on the sprinkler, grill something, and put my brain on auto pilot.  Can't wait to see what creative mischief the Goldman crew comes up with...I already know it will require patience and a Swiffer.

Get by with a little help from my friends

Free falling down a staircase weeks ago has opened my eyes to the subtleties of life.  Being on bed rest has forced me to stop and smell the cliche roses.  Things that have typically whizzed by in a succession of blurs have slowed to a merry go round pace.  The beauty realized is in the subtle sweetness of my family and good friends. This morning, as I watched my friend Chedva make challah dough in my kitchen; I got a rush of what is a Jewish Community.  There is nothing to compare to all the people that come together in simcha/ joy and in sorrow.  As a b'l tchuvah, I watch with alien perspective and awe of the simple acts of chessed (kindness) ingrained in each person I've come to know and love.  It is the framework of our Torah.  It is the heart and soul of our people. It's the one thing, if i was asked by the outside world, "What does it mean to be a Jew?"... I'd easily answer an eternal love of Torah and chessed that has been ingrained in even the most annoying, moody, or downright annoying of us since birth. Last year my step grandmother was in hospice, on her death bed, literally laying in wait for her time.  My mom relayed to me how well the nurses treated her.  To quote, "it was like being around family".  That statement didn't sit well with me.  " Like family", what?  These people are hired to comfort and care, yet their devotion to a stranger could never be that of a family member.  It's a facade to the untrained eye that has never known what being in a community is like.  Even the people looking from outer rungs and questioning their Jewish self are still part of this communal inner circle.  It, the community, is larger than life and why Hashem created us to live together amongst scattered nations.   My husbands explanation of our journey back to Jewish roots sums it up best.  People are always intrigued by the two juvenile delinquents (David and myself) they meet for the first time....often staring at us from across a Shabbas table unable to play Jewish geography with the only 2 people in the room that know more people knick named Sully rather than Chaim.   The question always comes from the most observant to the most unobservant Jews..."why have you chosen this life, what made you both become b'l tchuvah?". The answer is simple, yet beautifully uttered by David.   Years back we attended an orthodox wedding in the heart of Syrian Brooklyn.  We could hardly know what to expect...from the mechitzah separating the women and men to the old and young Jews with a menagerie of kippot, streimels, and black hats.  We had left 2000 and stepped into  an 1800 shtettle.  The only Jewish thing we could associate the scene with was Fiddler on the Roof...the closet identity to Jewish custom in both our houses.  A reform Jew for some reason always knew the lyrics to Sunrise Sunset.   David marveled at a chassidic Rabbi, with a beard longer and older than our combined age, take center stage before the groom and the hoards of his friends to put on his "show" of wiggling fingers.  Everyone screamed in joy, dancing, laughing, celebrating like it was their very own wedding...their very own joy in life.  David asked a man in the crowd, "I've never seen so many people alive with celebration. Is this all close family?".   And the man, who happened to be the average Jewish community member attending the wedding, not the inner circle of the bride/grooms family, said, "We have known this boy from birth, as a community we have watched him grow from his Brit Milah, to his Bar Mitzvah, to today on his joyous wedding day." That was our first baby steps back to a path carved out by our Bubbies and Zaidies many generations ago.  To have that deep connection with another person, many people, all entrenched in the same faith and devotion to Gd  is what inspired us.  These past few weeks of visitors,  filled freezers and fridges, babysitting, play-dates, emails and inquiries to our families well being have all been the subtle beautiful reminders of what a Jewish Community can and should be.  Too many times we focus on the faults of the community, the bubble I've heard many refer to it as...but more importantly we should focus on all the community so naturally does right. Shabbat Shalom!  38 weeks and still making challah.

Ah...how about I sleep when I'm alive.

I've often quoted my Bubby with great pride, "ah, you sleep when you're dead". These are words she lived by, she (and my mom) oozed a can-do attitude that I emulate everyday. I do this to an excrutiatingly painful fault. Ask for help? Not make it, do it, create it myself....absurd! I've been a huge fan of the 2 good hands and 2 good (decent) legs theory. You got them, use them. In a nutshell, to really take Bubby's creto to a new level of dumb I live life by the quotable, "Sleeping is for loosers, I don't want to miss a moment". Until... I avoided every last sign my body and Gd flashed. Huge warning signs that all began around Pesach when I passed out at a friends house, enjoyed multiple Iv's at the hospital, and spells of vertigo while driving. Each new occurrence would shake me, just enough, to relent to a day of calm; only to have me off the side lines and back in the Superbowl. Until Until... This past Friday when I blacked out (while carrying a vacuum) down the staircase. My miraculous 6 year old Willow called her Dad and waited on the porch for the paramedics. After a trip to the hospital and some hours on a fetal monitor, BH the baby's ok and I'm just bruised and sore. When I think about what could have, would have, maybe even should have been after the fall I'm rocked to my very core. My favorite quotable has had to change... "I'll sleep now, when by the very grace of Gd, I'm alive!". I'll spend the money now for help while blood runs throug these stubborn veins. And most importantly, I'll accept help from the wide span of friends I'm blessed enough to have." No wo-man is an island and Gd created us to give and receive from each other. To everything turn turn turn...and the season has come for me to be the helped not the helper. Funny enough I was just about to take a huge job as a creative director in the heart of the fashion industry. It was offered without interview and came with so many monetary perks. When I went to see the offices, I spun around in circles ala Mary Tyler Moore ready to yet again "turn the fashion world on with my smile". And just like Ace of Base croons..."I saw the sign...and I opened up my eyes...". When I came to from my staircase debauchery, my first thought was not of perfect jobs, paid yeshiva tuitions, or clean houses...it was a simple flash of thank you to Gd for yet another day to spend with my family and friends. Thank you to all my friends who have helped soo much. And especially to Gd, that sent me some crazy hazard signs that I'm just noticing on the journey. Good Shabbas...and still making challah...

No time for kvetching

Recently  I was approached by the biggest fabisanah (Yiddish, and not a compliment...my Bubby called sales ladies at Bambergers this when they snubbed her).  Her tactic was a double sided compliment.  "Jessica, a few months back I was at so and so's house and you had dropped them a challah.  The challah was amazing.". Wait for it....here comes the venom.  "I wish I had the free time to make challah.  I envy people like you, with so much time on their hands."  My inner pit bull saw red.  I was ready to unleash what could've been a verbal explosion that paled in comparison to Hiroshima.  Thankfully, I was able to take a deep breath, smile, and put her right where she belonged....on my hidden "shit" list.  By the way I said I'm religious...just not always so righteous.   Challah isn't something I have free time for, it's something I make the time for.  I make challah every shabbas...from the times I wretched in a garbage while adding ingredients... to the days when morning sickness was too much to stand and my friend Shari formed my dough.   When most are sleeping or curling up with a good show, David and I are typically working.  My Bubby always said "you sleep when your dead kindella". Life is for the living .  Life is messy and only those willing to roll up their sleeves and get to work are able to appreciate the minute to the glorious details their journeys bring them.   Funny enough, the creature from the black lagoon emphasizing all my free time is the same person forever kvetching and depressed.  If most people could just appreciate everything they had through hard work, a bit of sweat, and a few nights of not so restful slumber they might find that the more you load  your personal plate of tasks, the  more you are capable to do!  I'm too busy to be depressed...I just can't fit it on my to-do list.  I prefer to make challah and chase my kids around the backyard with bubbles.

Walking a middle path...

I recently heard an inspiring speech from Rabbi Yitzhak Lurre.  He emphasized the importance of walking the middle road.  Such a simple concept, yet so hard to achieve.   It's so typical to be guided by words of wisdom as "aim high", "know no limits"; yet never has anyone encouraged me to find the middle.  I've walked in every path thus far, yet the middle has alluded me.  It something I've never strived for.   It's a powerful path.  A balanced journey.  I've only known highs and avoided lows at all costs.  The highs were astounding...reaching peeks in fashion, media, life; things the  average person might never see.  My motto was the "sky is truly and perhaps the only limits".   Years and years ago a very intoxicated and high ex-boyfriend had an epiphany when we were reunited in a friends house party.  I love people that are ridiculously high because they truly believe that their every thought is astounding.  He said, "Jess, I finally figured out why we broke up.  I struggled with it for a long time and it comes down to I live life as it comes and you are absolute fire and passion, always striving for more and pushing the people around you to be more.  I couldn't catch up to you.".  This Middle path, a balance between the earthy and the heavenly, the high and the low, is where I now strive to journey.  I'm going to let someone else chase rainbows for awhile.   I'm happy stuck here in the middle with my family.  Not complacent, not passionless, not quiet, not at a loss for words or chutzpah...just a more harmonious path....this might be tough for me and require sedation. Shabbat Shalom!