The Dawn of a New Day

Yom sheni, 17 Cheshvan 5772.

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess whose people were from a far-away land.  She climbed mountains and crossed seas to marry her handsome prince.  At last, after scaling unbelievable heights and spanning unimaginable depths, they married and had children and were happy.  They moved to a mountain in a Wondrous Kingdom, and they were happier still.

One day, the princess got very, very sick.

And now it was the prince's turn to scale unbelievable heights and span unimaginable depths in order to fight against the terrible sickness, which seemed very much like a great, coiled dragon.  The prince put on his armor, and prepared to do battle with the forces of darkness.

The people of the village on the mountain gathered to see the prince off.

 Weavers and dyers made beautiful garments for the occasion.

The youth of the village adorned the trees and flowers with lavender balloons to remind the prince that he was not alone.  The village sage gave a speech of encouragement.  And then the prince departed.

He rode his trusty steed for hours and hours and hours, over hills and up mountains, covering miles and miles and miles in an attempt to slay the dragons that terrorized the nights, and to bring hope to himself and his princess and their children.

In the process, he brought hope to his community.  But not just to his community.  As the prince traveled those many miles, he brought hope to his people, those who were scattered across the globe, and those who were just around the corner.  There were knights with trusty steeds who joined the prince on his travels.  There were builders and bakers and memory stick makers.  There were minstrels and carriage drivers.  There were even court jesters.

As he rode, spreading his message of hope, the prince discovered time and again that he was not riding alone.  There were runners and riders.  There were people walking dogs, and dogs walking people.

There were those who traveled through space and time to share in the prince's struggle, among those longing for the dawn, longing for the dawn.  All along his route, the prince and the princess were reminded that many, many people had been longing to give a hand in the fight against the dragons and on behalf of goodness and kindness.

The people completed the ride together.  The prince and the princess and their children shared weary but joyful smiles.  The war was not over.  Not yet.  But they had won this battle.  And they knew that they would never, ever be alone.  Together, and with the help of the Mighty King, they knew that they could make it to the bright light of morning.

"Behold, how good and how pleasant is the dwelling of brothers in unity!...  May there be life forever!"

Please continue to daven for Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sara, among the other precious cholim of Am Yisrael.

Additional photos borrowed (ehhhhhhhh...) from Laura Ben-David.

One small kindness. And another. And another...

Yom revi'i, 12 Cheshvan 5772.

I have often thought about the human need for acceptance, and our reticence to give acceptance to others.

Since we all need it, you would think we'd be sensitized to the same need in our fellow man.  Right?

Yet we gather in our little groups and decry other groups.  We let slip careless and hurtful remarks behind each other's backs.  We make assumptions that an accusation we hear is true, even without first-hand experience of the evidence.  We fail to acknowledge those around us, totally oblivious to cries for help or the simple need for a smile.

Anyone who risks rejection by saying "Good morning" to a neighbor ought to always be greeted in return -- because the object of his greeting would also hate to feel rejected.  Instead, day after day, he must exercise the muscle called Benefit of the Doubt, until it wears out, or until it is the strongest muscle in his body.  Of course, there are plenty of reasons Ploni didn't smile at our brave soul.  He may not have heard or seen him.  His mind may have been on his own troubles, as small as a missing key or as great as catastrophic loss.  But what if we all went out of our way, every day, to put out the smile welcome mat for people we pass on the street?  (And no, o ye single minded straw man attackers: Of course I don't mean that six-year-old girls should smile at scary mugger types.  Consider your cautious tone already acknowledged, and attend to my main point.)

I always told my boys:  "There is no pareve encounter with another human being possible.  You have the opportunity to do a kiddush Hashem or -- chas v'chalila -- a chilul Hashem."  Translation: No encounter with another human being is meaningless.  You can either advertise G-d in a positive way through your actions, or -- G-d forbid -- you indicate that people in skull caps and ritual fringes don't care about other people.

Please enjoy the following short video.  It is a celebration of the concept of "pay it forward," how one small kindness begets another small kindness, and another, and another...  (Hat tip to Mare Newcome-Beill.  This is my kind of movie, Mare.  Thank you!)

I don't care what my children and my grandchildren choose to do for a living.  But I will feel that  the Mizrachi Family Mission is accomplished if they string together lifetimes filled with small acts of kindness.

Reason to Rejoice, Permission to Participate

Yom shlishi, 4 Cheshvan 5772.

To all of our excellent friends who have been davening with us over the months for the refua shelaima of Stella (Tzuriya Kochevet bat Sarah), please read Yarden's latest blog post, and share our hope and happiness.  (The short version: against all odds, Stella's situation has improved dramatically.  The Frankls thank you for your prayers, and say "Keep 'em comin'!")

Those who can attend this crazy all-night ride-a-thon, details are available in this post.  (The Dearly Beloved and I will be sitting in lawn chairs on the sidelines at some unspecified ridiculous hour of the morning to shake pompoms and yell "Go, Team Frankl!"  We will try to drink beer to rub in the fact that we are NOT exercising.  And we'll be there at the finish line at 6:15 AM to accept our share of the accolades.)

Those who cannot attend, due to being unfortunately delayed with business overseas, please join us in donating to the cause, which is bigger than all of us.  The need to "do something" is strong in all caring human beings...  and straddling a bike for 12 hours is more difficult for me than pushing a "donate" button.  And I'll feel just as involved as Yarden will, without the need for mass quantities of diaper rash ointment.  (Heh-heh, Yarden.  You go, boy.)

And finally, add Stella's dream to your prayers.  "B'ezrat Hashem, we will stay on track, and we'll surprise my doctor again after the next scan! I really want to be written up in a medical journal (egoist that I am) about the miraculous case of Stella Frankl!"

There is no limit to the number of people who can be on Team Frankl.  Dust off your bike.  Make a pledge.  Or just pray with all your heart that this fine young mother gets her dream.  May we share joyful news!

Glossary:
Refua shelaima: complete recovery

4 years. 22 years. 1,941 days.

"To all of the House of Israel: Happy Sukkot!"

Yom revi'i, 21 Tishrei 5772, Hoshana Raba.

In a few days, we will have lived in Israel for four years.

In a few days, we will have been Jewish for 22 years.

Yesterday, our nation welcomed home a native son who has been in captivity for more than five years.

Is it any wonder that life has not stood still long enough to be written about lately?

It's time for an "aliyaversary" retrospective.  I have more pictures than words -- but let me share them with you as they come to mind.  The bottom line:  We have made a place for ourselves here, a place that makes more sense for us than anywhere, of all the fine and interesting places we've ever been.   But we miss you -- and can't wait to see you here!

Our credit card company sends Rosh Hashana greetings.

So does the army!

A banker who has befriended us offers us something sweet for Rosh Hashana.

The ads on the buses advertise sukkah decorations.

My friend Ami got an automated message from Bezeq (the phone company) offering to give him free wake-up calls for Slichot.  I love this country!

Even Neve Daniel has a shuk for Sukkot.  All the quality, none of the travel.

Mishpachat Mizrachi adds a "Parents' Room" wing to the sukkah, decorated with flags from our States of origin.

Would anybody but my Dearly Beloved think of military guidons as sukkah decorations?  (Where's yours, Soldier Boy?  We looked for that Golani "Gdud 12" flag everywhere!)

The view through the "blue glass picture window" is still breathtaking.  (This one's for you, Bubbe.  Thanks for showing up every year, to help your son-in-law with those final construction details.)

History, politics, shellfish -- we've got it all.

Ahhhh...  my leichter.  The sense of home is complete.

I love the Sukkot table setting best of all.

I never liked honey.  But silan -- date honey -- ahhhhhhh!

A "Davening for Stella" excursion to the Kotel...

...is delightfully augmented by a group of Chareidi school girls.  "Oiveenee Malkainee..."

With Standing Together, we visit a group of miliumnikim -- reservists.  I have two questions for them:  "Do you have kids?  Do you have pictures?"  You should have seen the joy with which the cell phone cameras came out!

The Strung-Out Quartet performed American blues and rock with other musicians at the Neve Daniel Jam Session during Chol Hamoed.  It ain't Hershey Park -- but it was a lot of fun nonetheless!

Yaakov and Leah Urso regaled us with an authentic Nashville sound.

Eliezer Barnet playing his homemade cigar box guitar.

We shared our fiddle player Uzi Volman to turn Eliezer into a bluegrass band.

One of the guests in the audience was a mother of a Neve Daniel resident.  Commenting on the concert, she said to her daughter-in-law:  "I love incongruous things and this is one hell of an example!"

Tzvi Zelevski added a sweet Russian soulfulness to his Hebrew tunes.

As the seasons change, we switch from iced coffee to cafe hafuch -- with artwork!

Finally learned the art of the braided round loaf!

Grilled veggies are so ON this time of year, am I right?

Fall and football, right?  Coach gets together for a chol hamoed strategy session with some of his prime gridiron warriors.

The Dearly Beloved took me out for a birthday meal or two, of course...

All of my boys are in uniform these days.

Stunt Man is in an elite Paratroopers unit; and Sports Guy is in an elite football team.

Yes, Doctors Leventhal -- they still leap backwards off of walls.  But thanks to your wisdom, I can mostly duct tape and superglue them back together...

When Robert Kraft's wife left this world, he asked the guys who play for Israel to wear her name on their uniforms as they played in the international competition.  It was their honor and privilege.

In the IDF, you are permitted to say "shehekhiyanu" when you receive your uniform and your weapon.  Why?  Because defending the Jewish people is holy work.

Far from giving up their Yiddishkeit due to army service, as we were so often warned, the boys find opportunities to talk about the beauty of faith in Hashem with fellow soldiers who ask GREAT questions, and show much interest.

Yeshiva Bochur earns the "soldier of the week" award.  And I thought those "My son is on the TA Honor Role" bumper stickers would make me proud...

Visiting Stunt Man outside his base late one chol hamoed evening.  Okay, I know I look a bit "ufgarecht."  I spent most of the visit plucking ants out of my clothing.  Now I fully understand the concept of "shpilkes."

Gilad Shalit returns to the arms of his parents after one thousand, nine hundred and forty-one days in captivity.  We tear our hair over the cost. We embrace him with our full hearts.  Huge emotional conflicts.  This is what it is to be an Israeli.  This is what it has always been to be a Jew.

Photo credit: Kalman Feldman, the talented mechutan

We miss our family in the Old Country, and cannot wait until they return Home!  (This includes ALL of you.)

Glossary:
Hoshana Raba: The seventh day of the holiday of Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles).
Slichot: penitential prayers said during the time leading up to the High Holy Days
Leichter [Yiddish]: area let up for lighting the Sabbath and holy day candles
Davening: praying
"Oiveenee Malainee": the way the Chareidi Yiddish for the Avinu Malkeinu (Our Father, Our King) prayers sounded to my ears
Chol Hamoed: the intermediate days of Jewish holidays -- spent by Israelis in wonderful fun family trips around the country, and musical festivals
Cafe Hafuch: the national drink of Israel, cappuccino -- "hafuch" means upside-down, and we certainly are!
Shehekhiyanu: a special prayer recited over any momentous event thanking G-d for bringing one to this place in time
Ufegerecht: discombobulated
Shpilkes: unable to sit still; ants in the pants -- Don't ask.

A time to mourn, and a time to dance

Yom sheni, 13 Elul 5771.

A time to weep, and a time to laugh.  A time to mourn, and a time to dance.

I had finally accepted the inevitable.  We had made the decision to refinance our home mortgage.  I don't want to overstate it: but for me, that decision had behind it the ever-so-distant clang of the cell door closing.  It meant we weren't going anywhere, that we were staying in our lives in America.  But I was accepting it.  The clang was there, but it was far away.  I could do this.

After all, we lived in one of the finest Jewish communities in America.  We had wonderful neighbors, a loving congregation, friendships we had built over sixteen years.  We had jobs; we knew the language.  We knew what to expect day to day.  We were planning our life and aging and death in the land of our birth.

The lady at the mortgage office was very sweet.  She had explained everything to me, to us, very clearly.  I hung up the phone to discuss the details with the Dearly Beloved.

We had only shared a few tentative words on the subject when the phone rang again.  I assumed it was the mortgage company lady with some new detail.

It was the voice of my dear Rebbetzin Bracha, who was also my neighbor.  "A plane has just crashed into the World Trade Center," she said, softly and terrifyingly.

I know she said a few other words, though the shock of that few moments keeps me from remembering what they were.  I think I responded with my usual genius "Okay." (This is my favored insightful response in times of crisis.  I had used exactly this remark when my husband had gotten off the phone with the US Army captain who had informed him that American troops were entering Iraq.  The Gulf War had begun...  and that announcement unleashed all the coiled fear of anticipated poison gas attacks against Israel.)

I turned on the radio at the same time the announcer was incredulously sharing news that the second plane had just hit the World Trade Center.  It felt like War of the Worlds -- except that this was no hoax.  The next two weeks were out of a novel or a movie or a dream.  The tectonic plates of our American lives shifted.

They never again returned to the same place.

We never called the mortgage company lady back.  (When things resembled sanity again, we joked that the reason was that hugely bad things seem to happen when we talk with mortgage companies...)  We hadn't expressed it at the time, but one of the excuses for staying in America had been the taken-for-granted safety of our sons.  In Israel, it was a given that they would put on uniforms, that they might have to fight for their and our survival.  But in America...  Well, there were no guarantees anymore, were there?

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At about 4:30 PM yesterday, the Dearly Beloved and I left our apartment in Neve Daniel to catch a bus to Jerusalem.  It occurred to me as we walked that it was 9:30 AM in Baltimore on September 11, 2011.  I started to think of what had been happening that morning, ten years ago... and how much our lives had changed as a result.

We were on our way to a wedding.  We were privileged to attend the wedding of the daughter of Laura Ben-David, a woman who had been very instrumental in our aliyah to Israel nearly four years earlier.

Sports Guy was on his way to Jerusalem as well.  His destination was Kraft Stadium, where he and his fellow Israel National Flag Football team members would gather before going to watch on someone's over-sized TV screen his beloved Baltimore Ravens against their arch-rival, the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Yeshiva Bochur and Stunt Man were in training with the IDF, becoming the guys who help to keep Israel safe.

Soldier Boy, now retired from the IDF, was in Baltimore with his wife and children, planning to introduce his wife to a concert of our favorite family band, Gaelic Storm.

Later, as we moved among our Neve Daniel neighbors in the wedding hall, we felt that old familiar feeling of being with a huge group of family members.  Only now we were celebrating the building of a brand-new bayit ne'eman in Israel, with our Israeli branch of the family, instead of with our dear Baltimore mishpacha.

In other words, the terrorists lost.  We as Jews, as Americans, and as Israelis, have much life still in us, and much to celebrate.

Wedding photos by Lisa Sturman Melamed

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"A time to weep, and a time to laugh.  A time to mourn, and a time to dance." 

Mazal tov, Shyra and Gidon!  Mazal tov to all good and decent life-loving people.  May there be no more weeping, no more mourning, and much dancing.

Glossary:

Aliyah: Jewish immigration to Israel

Bayit Ne'eman:  lit. faithful home, this refers to the building of a new marriage, a new microcosm of the greater Jewish family and inherent mission

Mishpacha: family