At the Kotel

I went to the kotel last week. We don't go very often, and usually with kids. This was quieter (just us grownups) and I was hoping to get some time to think.

I moved through the rows of chairs, forward and to the right, and up the steps towards the inside room which fits no more than 10 women; it offers privacy and intimacy for prayer, quite a different feel from the outdoors public affair that praying at the kotel typically involves. I felt that the privacy would be soothing, but I only lasted a few minutes. I kept fidgeting and looking through the door at the sunshine and breeze.

So back down I went, and as I took the last step, a woman appeared within my sight. She looked middle-aged and heavy-set, wearing a plain cotton dress with a shawl, a scarf covering her head. She held her hands outwards, and called her tefilot out intentionally loudly, with a voice that carried. While she chanted her prayer, she jumped up and down, rhythmically, in time to her words:

I love Eretz Yisrael, more than I love my own body!
I love Am Yisrael, more than I love my own body!
I love Hashem, more than I love my own body!

I found her mesmerising. I loved the brashness of her statements, and the loudness of her declarations. It seemed to me she was teaching people how to pray: honestly, wholeheartedly and with humility. (It doesn't fit our typical definitions of humility, to jump and yell in front of a crowd, but read those words again.)

Then I opened my siddur to pray. And closed it again. I spent some time thinking about what to pray for. Truly, that time was a luxury that I cherish. Because when you stand at the kotel thinking about what you want to pray for - right here and right now - it had better be good. And by "good" I mean, genuine and true. When we can figure out what we want from life, when we know what to ask for, it is a beautiful and precious thing.

(Photo: This is not a picture of me! I took this picture with the praying woman's knowledge)

Life After Baby: Our Bodies, Ourselves

We give birth, and our bodies, our miraculous amazing bodies that produced the complete package of a new human being, appear to betray us. Right after birth, they go stretchy, leaky, achy and needy. What’s this? You have, till now, been a strong capable woman; why is your body not letting you get up and strut your stuff?

The baby is, say, two days old, you know his face, the shape of his hands, the way he relaxes while nursing. Your beloved says something casually about picking up a book or carton of milk, and he pops out to run an errand. You are completely alone except for the baby, which is fine, which is better than fine, it’s wondrous. You are curled up on the couch together, and you are admiring his impossibly long eyelashes, when you suddenly realise that you cannot wait one more second for a long drink of cold water. You look around, and realise that the only water carrier candidate around here is you. “Fine,” you think cavalierly, “I can do this. How hard can it be?”

You forgot how tired your muscles are, and how you have this dragging sensation in your lower half when you stand. How walking requires actual effort. When you walk up the two stairs to your kitchen, you cannot just stride up, but place both feet on each step, one after the other. You stand in front of the open fridge drinking your ice-cold water, gulp by gulp, and realise that you are actually contemplating the walk back to the couch, the walk you have made, oh, about a million times without a moment’s thought. What is it, a matter of fourteen steps? Isn’t that something? Just fourteen steps, and you’re girding your strength for the long trek back.

When you try to explain this to your mother later, she’ll nod and say something supportive about how tiring it all is, but really what you mean is: Isn’t it unbelievable? That my body just switched gear like that?

It is unbelievable. Your body carried life and brought it into the world. And now it demands rest and food and drink and nothing more. It begs you: nothing more, please. Your body has worked so hard that it is now forcing you to sit and rest. Your energy is going to be used exclusively to nourish the baby and to heal your body. You can trust your body. It is awesome.

(Photo credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Stilles_Mineralwasser.jpg)

Praying in Gratitude

Today, for the first time in a long time, it rained. As the grey clouds gathered in the morning, I realised that I didn't know what brachah to say on the yoreh, the first heavy rainfall after the summer in Israel.

After searching through many siddurim, I found it in the Rinat Yisrael, a beautiful paragraph of thanks for rain after a long dry spell. The brachah opens with the phrase:

"We thank you, Hashem, for each and every drop that You brought down for us."

When the rains came, I was in the car. I parked, and listened to the noise on the roof, and watched the car windows become flooded and streaked from the rain mixing with the dust and sand that had settled there over the last many dry months. I took out my siddur and prayed.

I am especially grateful that I am in Israel and able to say this brachah, and there is a genuine gratitude for rain in this part of the world, whether people are the prayerful type or not.

What struck me with this tefilah, though, were the words "al col tipah v'tipah", "for each and every drop". This choice of phrase brings our gratitude into sharp focus. Instead of seeing rain, we appreciate each drop. What other areas of my life can I apply this to, where I typically see the broad picture and miss the tiny elements of blessing?

May we learn to count each and every drop of blessing in our lives; may the Land of Israel be blessed with plentiful rain in the right season.

(Photo credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rain_on_grass2.jpg)
(You can see the text of the tefilah here: http://www.kipa.co.il/ask/show/74833)

On the bus

I'm sitting in a bus shelter waiting for the bus to Yerushalayim. The weather - this last week in October - is balmy, all warm and breezy. As I wait for the bus, I listen to women from Ethiopia chatting to one another in high voices that pour out a language that flows like bird-song.

At my bus-stop is a young woman wearing sandals with the fewest and finest possible silver straps required to hold the shoes to her feet. Her toenails are a deep red. Her feet glow like jewellery.

When the bus arrives, the driver is a young man with slicked back hair, but he's not impatient. On the seat across from me is a man wearing a kippah serugah and a Pink Floyd t-shirt, working on sheets of math problems. Behind me, a middle aged woman from Russia with long thick hair is wearing enormous chandelier earrings. In front of me, a woman answers her cell phone. "Mazal tov!" she cries "What did she have? Oh, this is achlah for you! Bye, Mami! Mazal tov!" We pass a bus-stop where a woman is dressed in ordinary modest clothing - she wears grey and black, her clothes are clean and neat. She is reciting tehillim from a small book.

The views as we drive towards Yerushalayim are beautiful, rolling hills planted with row upon row of trees. This is an ordinary day, an ordinary bus ride. Ordinary and magical.

Book Love: "Having Faith"

I love to read. You know, the way that other people love to breathe. I read way too late at night, and I steal moments during the day to get my fix. I have become friends with the librarians in every city I've lived in.

Sometimes I want a happy fictional ending to smooth off the edges of my day before I sleep; sometimes I want some great non-fiction to sink my teeth into. Mostly, I just want the heft of a book in my hand, and the look of typeface at eye level. I want to be engaged in reading and to learn something new.

The way I see it, a good book about women's health is a gift from above, an unbeatable combination that feeds my mind and soul. So when I read a book that makes me say "Thank you, thank you for writing this!", I figure I should share the booty.

Sandra Steingraber is an ecologist. In her book "Having Faith" she describes her pregnancy, birth and postpartum experiences. She also leads us on an exploration of these from the scientific perspective of a biologist. A woman's body is, as she reminds us, a baby's first environment. She describes the impact of toxicity in the world on pregnant mothers and babies in a writing style both compelling and poetic. She writes with hope, and, of course, faith.

"Having Faith" is more important, more interesting and more illuminating than any mainstream pregnancy book. This one is the real deal. You'll be glad you read it, and it might just change your life.

(photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1184809)

That Quilting Thing

Since childhood, my hands have always kept busy with things artistic, usually a pen. I created with calligraphy (in two directions, if you please), book-binding, paper-cutting - all gave me great pleasure, both in allowing the creative spirit to move me, and in the satisfaction of producing things of beauty.

But in quilting, I have found a therapy that moves at my speed. (Friends, quit laughing right now.) (I am known for projects that take upwards of 5 years to complete. Small projects.)

Quilters famously have UFO's (UnFinished Objects), the result of dropping one project for a more urgent one. More urgent, perhaps, for emotional reasons: a friend who lives far away needs a hug, so you set aside your current project to sew her a quilt and send it to her to do your hugging for you.

Or more urgent, perhaps, because you just found this Kaffe Fassett fabric, and you are forced to go shopping (oh dear, again? Sigh. Well, if I must.) to find fabrics that contrast, but perfectly... And there's a different kind of urgent, right there.

I got turned onto quilting by a book, "Quilting Lessons" by Janet Berlo. This is not a how-to book; this is all about what the writer learned from quilting. Janet Berlo is a professor who was struck by writer's block at around age 40 and sunk into a deep depression as a result. This book contains the essays that she wrote in the subsequent two years, during which she quilted full time, through and out of her depression. The essays reflect her moods, often dark and self-absorbed, and describe her relationships, good and bad. What I found so compelling was that in quilting she found - she created - her own healing space.

Life After Baby: A short message to our beloveds

Men-folk: not imagine that when your gorgeous baby gets tired, he stretches his little arms and yawns his little yawn, and smiles gratefully when his mother lays him gently in his crib for a 3 hour long nap. Think again.

Imagine this: he falls asleep nursing, and your wonderful wife cannot figure out how to climb out of the couch she has sunk into without waking him. She tries anyway. Imagine the sound of a baby screaming in your ear.

Take two: After being shown around the apartment several times, your beautiful baby consents to fall asleep on your wife’s shoulder. How long does she need to hold him like this before she puts him down? Because, here’s the thing: she really needs the bathroom. She gently, oh so lovingly lays him down, together with the blanket she wrapped him in, that hopefully has her scent, she doesn’t even suffer from Sudden Arm Drop this time, and he lies down, asleep. Thank you God. Your wife goes to the bathroom, and before she’s finished washing her hands, he’s awake again, and singing at the top of his lungs.

Get the picture? New Dad, I know you’re cross-eyed with exhaustion too – stretched in more directions than you can count – but please make a couple of sandwiches before you leave for work and put them in the fridge for your beloved wife. Cut up some fruit, maybe, and put some crackers in a bowl. This Mama needs her fuel.

(Photo credit: http://www.everystockphoto.com/photo.php?imageId=239682)

Chag Same'ach!

Even though there has been fascinating discussion about whether or not we can post divrei Torah on our blogs over chol haMo'ed , I have decided not to!

So I'm wishing you all a joyful Succot, lovely weather for your succah pleasure, and great tiyulim!

(for psak and discussion check out: http://kabbalahmadda.blogspot.com/ )
(photo credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/199536 )

Yom Kippur - saying the Al Chet

On Erev Yom Kippur I received an email from my friend Yael Resnick (the editor of Natural Jewish Parenting magazine) including a tefillah written by her friend Yonit Lea Kosovske, entitled "Al Chet Prayer for Parents". Since parenting matters tend to fill my mind, oh, about, 99% of my waking day, I thought I'd take a good look at it.

The first couple of lines read as follows:
"For the mistake we have committed before You by losing patience with our children,
And for the mistake we have committed before You by losing our temper."

Oh boy. This was not written for the faint of heart.

Now, like I said, I think about how I parent my kids a lot. I'm trying to figure out, more than anything else, how to raise them so that one day they will become adults that are thoughtful, ethical people who love God and are kind to others.

I try to say yes to the kids as often as possible, because I have a tendency to say no. I prefer to feed them food not enhanced by additives, colouring or flavouring. When learning issues arise, I try to figure out the best route to success; when someone's behaviour needs a little nudge in a certain direction, I think about how we can motivate this child. We keep plastic and electronic toys to a minimum, and artsy creative stuff and board games to a maximum. Typical, regular, conscientious parenting. Yawn.

So reading this Al Chet was breathtaking. After a few lines, I could barely believe someone had written it. And when I counted, it was 8 pages long: all those lines of everyday awful parenting moments. Why would I read this? Over a hundred ways to feel bad about myself!

When I say the Al Chet on Yom Kippur, I typically try to focus on what the words really mean, and find a way to link them to my life. But it doesn't hurt. It is successful in that I become more self-aware, have regrets, have intention to improve. But this comprehensive description of my life, presented to me as a list of mistakes, was overwhelming. I printed it off anyway, glanced at it when I walked past the desk, thought about it a lot.

Eventually, I read it, all 8 pages, beginning to end. Yes, it was painful. But also validating. Someone had bothered to delineate the thousands of decisions and actions we make every day as parents. Someone noticed that we put a lot of effort in and acknowledged that sometimes we lose it.

"For the mistake we have committed before You by saying NO too many times,
And for the mistake we have committed before You by not saying NO enough."

Doesn't that say it all? The line we walk is all too fine. If it's not one mistake, it's another. By trying to redress the balance, we sometimes over-correct. So be it. This "Al Chet" brought every day moments to my immediate attention, and made me want to improve. The point is, I think, to be in the game, and to pay attention.

(Yonit Lea Kosovske's tefilah can be read at http://www.natural-jewish-parenting.com/Al-Chet-for-Parents.html )
(Photo credit: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:A_prayer_to_God_in_the_Western_Wall_in_Jerusalem.jpg)

Yom Kippur - The Day of Watching Kids

I know, I hang out with my kids all the time, not just on Yom Kippur. During the week, I have the benefit of our beloved art box, our books-on-tape, our computer. On Shabbat we pull out the boxes of games, the puzzles, the magnets. Actually, Shabbat can be a lot of fun, because I don't have to dash off anywhere, so I have time to play with the kids properly. Shabbat, clearly, is where it's all at (and I believe the Torah has something to say about this too.)

Rosh HaShanah davenning is long - well, we have a lot to say - and offers a kind of shul dilemma warm up for Yom Kippur, with one crucial difference: food. And what a difference it is. Aside from the comfort we can get from food (it's delicious!) and the celebratory spirit it can provide (Shabbat treats!), it is also a source of nourishment. And when we are under-nourished, we might get - how can I say this nicely? - a little cranky. What with the blood sugar going wild and our bodies dehydrating from the inside out, Yom Kippur doesn't bring out the best in us. Which impacts us the most, I find, when we try to communicate with other people. Especially little, needy people.

So here is the conundrum: Yom Kippur davenning is Really Really Long AND we have kids under the age of 10. We do, and guess what? they need a little entertaining.

Now, in this here religious world of ours, a lot of families have kids, thank God. And a lot of those kids are under the age of 10. How exactly are we supposed to juggle our family needs with our davenning needs? And how is one fasting parent supposed to provide food, fun and safety while their brain cells and energy fade at remarkable speed as the day progresses?

You're hoping I have answers to these questions.

I do not.

I'll tell you what helped me yesterday, though. Firstly, I spent most of the day with a friend, and the kids either played together or screeched at each other, but at least we had the company of another adult to keep each other sane, and sometimes even laughing.

Secondly, I belong to an awesome email support group, for frum mothers of kids with special needs. The list represents children with a wide range of emotional, physical and behavioural issues. One amazing woman collates a list for the Yamim Noraim of children (and a few adults) in need of our tefilot, for a refuah shelemah, for chizuk, for success with a surgery or a therapy. These kids are all from the list or a friend of someone on the list. I printed out the list, and carried it around with me on Yom Kippur. I did daven for everyone listed, and I think that was the goal when it was collated. But the list itself was my inspiration: it was 6 pages long. Can you picture it: a list of names of children, submitted by mothers, printed in small print, 6 pages long. How much love was represented by those pages, and how many tears? It gave me the opportunity to daven with the most kavannah of the day; prayers for children are rarely muddied by doubt or boredom.

Another impact of this list of children's names was learning appreciation. When I saw, for example, a request to daven for the success of physical therapy so that a child could learn to walk, I realised was what a nes it is to be able to walk. The most perfect body is one in which we feel nothing. We walk without noticing, we eat with no stomach ache, we turn around automatically. As soon as we sprain an ankle, have a gastric flu, or injure our necks - we become super-aware of that part of our body that allows us - typically - to function. When we get well, how miraculous it seems that our bodies usually work so effortlessly. And that is what I thought about as I davenned, what blessings I have, every moment of every single day.

These thoughts didn't help me clear the table, feed the kids or play with them. But they did help keep me centred on the specialness of Yom Kippur. It isn't just the day of watching kids. It is a day for praying for them, and praying for ourselves to be good guides for them.

(photo credit: http://www.kavewall.com/toys-games/index.htm)

Eating Green, Out of the Blue!

We rent a house in a suburban area. We have a front yard - green and leafy - and a back yard containing only sandy, compacted, dry dirt, that hasn't been watered, or, indeed, acknowledged, in about 10 years.

One morning in July, a shoot poked its head through the dirt in the back yard, and we dutifully ignored it. Then somebody suggested it might yield food one day, and perhaps we should water it. Hey, why not?

In an attempt to reduce our water usage, we have a Save The Kinneret dish-washing method: we wash everything in a bowl of soapy water, set the dishes to one side, then rinse into a bucket. We then pour the bucket of water over the plants in our garden (you will not believe how much water it takes to rinse a few plates! Folks, try this one at home!)

So we poured bucketfuls of water over our baby seedling and watched a miracle take place. It grew long arms and gorgeous little yellow flowers, and then sprouted fruit that looked like hard-skinned dark green plums. We had no idea what it was, pumpkin? watermelon? Those yellow flowers and large green leaves, I discovered, are the signature features of many plants. The fruit grew and grew and then stopped growing. It was now about the size of a large grapefruit. We harvested it (okay, it was just one thin stem), sliced it open, and behold: a delicious, crunchy, green melon!

Talk about local and organic: we didn't plant the seed, we used recycled water, and a vine grew in our backyard, turning the sun's rays into food. Is that awesome or what?

Life After Baby: Letting others bake your daily bread

In anticipating your new-baby time, you will want to arrange basic help beforehand. Friends love to bring round food – perhaps you want to put one in charge of coordinating meals. Can you arrange now for cleaning help then? Are there teenagers on your block who would love some extra pocket money and can wash your dishes in the evenings?

Write a shopping list that you can hand on to a kind friend after the baby arrives. (I mean it. Go get a pen and paper right now!) Can you freeze some of your favourite dishes in advance? What foods can you eat with one hand that you like? Bananas, apples, grapes, cherry tomatoes, carrots, crackers, sandwiches… hey, you tell me!

In case you didn’t know: when you have a new baby, what you eat is Really Important. Focus on filling your body with the most delicious, complete and colourful foods possible. Whole grains, fresh vegetables and fruit, dairy, eggs, fish, chicken – yum! When a friend offers food, ask for home-made soup, or a container of brown rice, or a huge bowl of fruit salad. For your family and friends, bringing your food will be a labour of love. The food they bring will wind up nourishing your baby. It’s true, what they say: It takes a village.

(Photo credit: Work_dough.jpg‎)

A Whole New World

Rosh HaShanah is here, filling us with memories and emotions. This festival, celebrating the beginning of the new year, has many names: Yom Teru'ah, Yom HaZikaron, Yom HaDin - a list defining the deep meaning that infuses the spirit of Rosh HaShanah.

You won't be suprised to hear that my inspiration comes from our tefilot: "HaYom Harat Olam!" - Today the World was Born! What a blast of joy! The 1st day of Tishrei is, according to the Gemara, the date of the first Shabbat ever, putting the 24th of Elul as the first day of Creation. On Rosh HaShanah, it is not the creation of the world that we celebrate, but its birth, complete and perfect.

You probably know this, but it bears repeating: the Mishnah declares that when we save a life, it is as if we have saved a whole entire world. Perhaps this is because each of us contains something so unique and so complex that we are compared to a universe. Or, perhaps it is a reflection of all that we bring to the world, the number of people whose lives we touch, minutely altering their thoughts and actions and literally changing the course of life immeasurably.

Can you see where I'm going with this? We humans are neither haphazard nor irrelevant. Each one of us is vital. The ways we develop ourselves and our relationships - with other people and with God - form our uniqueness. On Rosh HaShanah, as we do teshuvah, we try to return to the very best version of who we are, our most complete and perfect selves.

May we - each of us as valuable as the world - and the miraculous world which was created for our use, be blessed this year with healing and growth.

(References: Masechet Rosh HaShanah 10b; Mishnah Sanhedrin 4:5)
(Photo credit: Earth_Western_Hemisphere_white_background.jpg‎)

Life After Baby: How to have your baby and keep your head

It can be exciting to be pregnant and it can be exhausting. Then, one unbelievable day, your baby arrives. Your childbirth experience fills your consciousness. Your body is recovering physically from the effort, strength and stamina it takes to bring new life into the world. On top of this, there’s a baby. A delicious baby - your baby - someone you sort of recognize, and can learn to love.

A heartbeat later, life continues. You need to eat – which requires shopping, shlepping, unpacking, washing, cooking and washing up. Don’t even talk about the laundry. You had no idea how much effort this 7lb bundle would take. Or, you had an idea, but your toddler didn’t. Perhaps you’ve done this before – but this one likes to eat. All. The. Time. You are still in your pyjamas at supper time but haven’t had lunch yet.

So: how will you get from this moment to sanity and joy?

It all boils down to planning ahead. Way, way ahead.

Check this out: having a doula at your birth can help you recover more quickly, even when your birthing day is days and weeks behind you. Studies show that women receiving continuous support from early labour are more likely to give birth spontaneously, requiring neither caesarean, vacuum extraction nor forceps delivery. They will therefore bypass the additional physical recovery required and the possible postpartum complications from these procedures.

Prior even to childbirth, is education. The more you know, the more you can be involved in the process of birth. Women who understand the stages of labour, and who are included in decision making throughout have a much more positive experience of labour. This helps them with both their emotional and physical recovery after childbirth.

So: make it your business to know what to expect from labour, and line up a friend, sister or professional doula - or all three - to give you that support when you most need it. Husbands are great, terrific people – but it’s worth having an extra female around in this most female of moments.

Your mission today is to contact your friends and find out how they found a doula; ask them to be your doula! Line up childbirth classes with someone who has a great reputation. Find out what a difference a satisfying childbirth experience can make to your life, long after your Birth Day. You won’t regret it.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/35034350386@N01/2707548552)

A Postpartum Doula? What's that?

Maybe you were wondering what it was, exactly, that I do.

Well, to start with, here’s a dictionary definition: a postpartum doula is a woman who assists a new mother and family in their home following the birth of a baby. Nice, right?

Let’s say you had a new baby. I would provide you with the practical and emotional support that would encourage you to nurse, rest and recover. In practice, this might include offering breastfeeding support, preparing and serving you lunch, listening to your birth story, caring for your newborn while you rest, taking care of light housework. Awesome.

There is a kind of knowledge that I carry in my brain and in my hands, about women’s bodies and the impact pregnancy and childbirth has on them, and the difference good support makes. My goal is to sanctify and foster the bond between mother and baby by focusing on mom.

Did you notice? I think that becoming a mother is holy. The holiest. The way a woman’s body plots - every single month - to catch a baby, the way it expands perfectly to encompass new life, the way we birth, the miracle of nursing, and oh gosh, you’ve got me on a roll. It’s all too gorgeous for words. And if I can be a part of that, I am one happy lady.

(Photo credit: http://www. flickr. com/photos/65414509@N00/307730836/ bird's eye)

First Day of School!

Parents, I hear your collective sigh of relief.

It is September 1st, the day Israel declares as the beginning of the school year, and we are all wiping our brows and smiling in relief that we survived the summer. The hot, long summer, spent with children who have too many toys and not enough to do.

(Oh sure, in your home you went on hikes, grew organic vegetables, created dioramas based on each week’s parshah and baked spelt bread with your kids. I hope that you and all your friends in Never Never Land live happily ever after.)

The first day of school was always my favourite day of the year: it speaks of clean slates, the possibilities of excelling and of being discovered. I would buy new pencils, pens and paper every year, in the hope that their shiny newness would inspire me to be organised, both in person and in schoolwork. This didn’t actually work. You’re shocked, I know.

But still. The day deserves some joyous attention, to go along with the adrenaline. Each year I bake my kids a First Day of School cake. Today as we ate it, we talked about going to school - learning math, science, history, geography - as a way to connect to the Torah and to God, and we celebrated this new beginning with a sweet taste in our mouths. Yum.

(Photo credit: http://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grafika:Kredki_Foto.jpg)