G-d Doesn’t Lose Track of Us: Yom Kippur Reflections

Yom Kippur continues to inch upon us, and for some, it is going to be a difficult day emotionally.  We go through the same routine every year, inflicting ourselves by fasting, acknowledging our sinful nature and promising to at least try and do better in the coming year. And of course, thanking G-d for his redemption no matter how undeserving we are. Sometimes it’s a fairly smooth process. Other times it is raw and tough.

For many individuals in my life at the moment, this is going to be a particularly difficult day that forces us to reflect on pain and trauma we are still trying to navigate. Some years Yom Kippur is a reinvigorating recognition of what G-d has done for us, while other years (such as this one), it is the tender spot a doctor touches in order to diagnose the core disease.

Wanting to make this day as reflective, personal, and intentional as I possibly can, there have been a lot of emotional preparations on my end. However, as with most times and seasons, there are traditions that have stood the test of time which offer guidance on how to make the most of our experience.

This year, for me, it is the story of Jonah.

Traditionally, the book of Jonah is read and analyzed on Yom Kippur. I’ve overheard many people speculate why that is, and theories tend to vary from person to person. But it’s a tradition taking place all over the world on this sacred day, year in and year out. And somehow, in a variety of ways, it is relevant.

This year, in particular, Jonah’s story is a punch in my gut. I’ve heard it since childhood. It’s a story that can be found even in the most watered down (no pun intended) storybook Bibles. It’s one of the popular ones we memorize as children and recall easily into adulthood. And yet somewhere, somehow, I forget the grit of a major message in the story.

Jonah demonstrates an important reality. Yes, we learn that running away from G-d is pointless. But we don’t always find ourselves purposely running from G-d. That aspect isn’t always relatable. Sometimes we’ve been following Him all along, and confusingly find ourselves lost and seemingly without direction. Sometimes we find ourselves in a panic because no matter how hard we tried, something pushed us off course. Sometimes we expect the thunder and lightning when G-d is working through the whispers of a still small voice we’re struggling to hear.

But in that confusion, we can still gain from Jonah’s experience. He thought he could hide from G-d. He hopped a ship heading in the opposite direction of where he was commanded to go and snuck his way to the very bottom of the hold. And in response, G-d did him one better. Jonah was tossed into the sea and swallowed by a whale.

Jonah found himself in the deepest darkest place physically possible.

And yet, that was not too far for G-d.

In Jonah, we find a comforting example. Each of us experiences a deep dark place at some point. Some have been there in the past, some continue to waver in and out, and others are there now. We don’t necessarily find ourselves there because of a decision to run from G-d. Some of us find ourselves stumbling into that area in the middle of our journey, feeling confident that we’ve been going in the right direction but suddenly wondering what went wrong.

Regardless of how we get there, wherever “there” is, Jonah’s story demonstrates that G-d knows exactly where we are. No matter how deep we find ourselves, He can still hear every word in our hearts. There is no place we can go that isn’t within His reach, and it is impossible to be outside of G-d’s watch.

G-d never ever loses track of us.

And that is a message to absorb during Yom Kippur. Whether we’re struggling through correcting what we’ve done wrong, or we are bruised and battered by something pushing us into an unpleasant or even scary circumstance, or (more likely) we’re dealing with a little bit of both, we are in good company along the way. Of that, we can be absolutely certain.

And if He knows where we are, He also knows the way out.

Yom Kippur, in essence, is a time to stop our thrashing from fear of drowning. It’s a time to admit that yes, we’ve done things we weren’t supposed to. And yes, things were done to us that were unjust.

It is a time to acknowledge just how desperately we need G-d to save us and surrender to that need. Insightful to the fact that we sometimes need prompting, G-d has given us Yom Kippur to cry out for His help while knowing that He can hear our wails from wherever we are.

But even when we’re swallowed into what seems like unreachable depths, we’re never abandoned. Sometimes sin is reactionary to fear. Sometimes it is a symptom of our confusion. But at some point, it is time to refocus from that distraction and realize that no matter how deep and dark things seem…G-d has already saved us from the deepest and darkest place possible. And now that it’s been done, He most certainly isn’t going to leave us behind now.

For those fasting from sundown on Tuesday to sundown on Wednesday: May your fast be safe, intentional, effective, and meaningful.

Tsipporah Ruth

This past weekend we celebrated the introduction of our precious Tsipporah, and officially welcomed her into our home congregation. After having many people ask how we choose “Tsipporah Ruth” as a name, this was finally our opportunity to share the story behind the decision. There is something beautiful and satisfying about the formality of a Simchat Bat no matter how simple, short, and sweet it is, but I have been anxious to describe the finer details on what her name means to us, and how G-d showed His confirmation over our decision.

Tsipporah, which means “bird” in Hebrew,  was a name on our minds for many years.  Back in the early days of our relationship Jonathan and I, like most young and in love couples, would often talk about our plans for the future. I was insistent, due to an especially intense circumstance, that our future son would be named “Jude” (“Yehudah” is the Hebrew form that “Judah” is derived from).

I remember the moment “Tsipporah” entered the picture rather clearly. We were sitting in a diner waiting for our food, and having another discussion about our future (I was about 19 or so). After talking it over for what was probably the 100th time, Jonathan asked what we would do if we were to have a daughter someday. Up until that point I hadn’t put any thought into that possibility. I had been so wrapped up in the intuitive knowledge that we were eventually going to have a boy, I had no idea what girl names I preferred for a daughter.

Since I had nothing to say on the issue Jonathan simply stated that he had always liked the name “Tsipporah”.

And that was that. I figured I would think it over later and come up with my own preferences to debate over, but as we left the diner that night her name settled rather nicely in my mind. From then on further conversations about our future kids always seemed to include the idea of having a Yehudah and a Tsipporah. We were simply waiting for the right time to meet them.

The name “Ruth” came to me shortly after our diner conversation. I was observing Shavuot (equivalent to Pentecost) for the first time with the Messianic congregation we were beginning to call home. The traditional reading for this holiday is the Book of Ruth, which up until that point I had never read in full (for those who don’t know, growing up I had to journey outside of my home for religion. I didn’t have my own Bible and relied heavily on what I could pick up from youth groups and visiting the churches of whoever wanted to invite me).  As I got to know this woman during the study, I connected deeply with her journey throughout the text.

So I mentioned to Jonathan the possibility of “Ruth” as a middle name for our future Tsipporah. From then on she was (going to be) known as “Tsipporah Ruth”.

When we became pregnant for the first time I fully expected a boy. The night before we were scheduled to find out the gender, Jonathan and I sat down to make our final decision on names. We sifted through both boy and girl possibilities, but the reality of the situation was I only  had “Yehudah” in mind.  When the ultrasound confirmed we were having a son, I wasn’t surprised in the least.

With baby number two I was less sure, but held a sneaking suspicion that we were going to have our baby girl. After all, isn’t that what we had naturally fallen into planning for? At least I did.  When the ultrasound confirmed her gender, I was once again not surprised. I did, however, begin to have a wave of doubt on our name choice.

When we last tossed around baby names (in our first pregnancy), we still came to the conclusion of “Yehudah Yishai” and “Tsipporah Ruth”. The same names we always talked about. Part of that had to do with the fact that I wasn’t fully committed to finding a girl’s name at that time. I was too (rightly) convinced in my mind that we were having a boy, and he was going to be our Yehudah. This time around we hadn’t revisited possible alternatives, and I began wondering if we should at least pay some thought to other names. Just in case she was meant for something we had never considered.

After leaving our appointment Jonathan went back to work, and I went back home. The more I thought about it the more bothered I became over the fact that we never gave other names a chance. Once I got home I began searching and making lists. I went through dozens of names, researching their correct pronunciations and meanings. I made a narrowed list I approved of and sent them to Jonathan, who was too busy at work to respond in that moment.

To further my frustration I had to pause my investigation when the mail arrived. Packages are a big deal to Hudi, so when he found a box on the doorstep we both had to stop everything and see what was inside.  I tore myself away from the list of names I had been playing with, and begrudgingly sat in the foyer with him to open the box.

As I was expecting, the package contained used children’s books I had ordered online (I emphasize “used” here). It is almost ritual that when books come in the mail, Hudi and I read them immediately upon arrival, so naturally he crawled into my lap to read The Carrot Seed. I was already irritable that my attention was being drawn elsewhere (I was anxious to figure out a name), and almost as soon as I began reading my disgruntlement increased.

I specifically choose a  book marked as being in “very good” condition. Yet there, on the second page, some kid before us had written in the book.

I was trying to calm the hormonal nerves building up against false advertisement, when I actually looked at the writing:

“Zepporia”.

The writing in the book said “Zepporia”.

I was frozen and in shock for a moment. No, it wasn’t the same exact name we had been planning all these years. But it was close enough to completely halt my baby name search. “Zipporah” is the more common transliterated spelling used in English Bible translations. “Z” is the closest single Latin letter to the Hebrew letter “Tsadi” (צ), which more accurately transliterates into a “ts”.  And no, we weren’t planning to add the extra “ia” at the end of the name.

But, what were the chances of this?

Whether the spelling is “Tsipporah”, “Zipporah”, or “Zepporia” it is not a common name here in America (none of them are listed on the social security’s top 1,000 names for 2015). Yet of all the used copies of this book for sale, we received the one that had a variation of her unique name scrolled across one of the pages. On top of that, the timing of this find was perfect. We just found out we were having a girl, and needing confirmation on our decision I was literally pulled away from my search and redirected to our original choice. The one G-d had put on our hearts so many years before.

To add extra spin to the circumstances, I also noticed that The Carrot Seed was written by a woman named Ruth Krauss.

Snapping out of my shock I immediately messaged Jonathan with a picture of the book. There was no question from either of us that Tsipporah’s name was set in stone at this point.

After my moment of concern had been followed by something I consider to be confirmation, I was finally able to settle on what the name “Tsipporah Ruth” carries.

She is named after the Biblical Tsipporah and Ruth. Tsipporah, who was the wife of Moses, is a woman I find to be intensely fascinating and admirable. She saves Moses’ life on their way from Midian to Egypt (Exodus 4:24-26), and she stood beside Aaron and Moses as they confronted Pharaoh with G-d’s demand. She was witness to the plagues falling upon Egypt, and as the wife of a person coming to lead Israel out of slavery I would imagine people eyed her as an example of strength during such a hopeful, yet intimidating time.

While Tsipporah, to me, is a woman of fierce bravery and fortitude, Ruth is an exemplary woman of a patient and loving faith. When we first meet her in the Biblical narrative, she is a Moabite woman who was the widowed daughter-in-law of Naomi. After her husband dies, she refuses Naomi’s demand that she return to her Moabite home, and declares on of my favorite verses in the Bible:

Where you go, I go. Where you stay, I stay. Your people shall be my people, and you’re god my god“.

The magnitude of determination in that stance carried Ruth to Bethlehem with Naomi, where G-d blessed her with Boaz, an honorable and godly man who takes her as his wife.

The lives of both these women have played a crucial role in G-d’s ultimate plan for the world. From saving her husbands life, to standing beside him as he shepherded Israel out of Egypt, Tsipporah is partly to credit for the eventual reception of Torah, and the establishment of Israel. Ruth’s commitment to Naomi, and Naomi’s G-d (our G-d), brought her into Bethlehem where she met Boaz. Together her and Boaz created a lineage that lead to King David, and eventually Yeshua (Jesus).

Whatever impact our Tsipporah Ruth has on this world, it is our hope that she establishes it through a faith which reflects something similar to the example of her namesakes. I pray that she remains a pillar of righteousness as she stands against adversaries throughout her life, just as Biblical Tsipporah stood against Pharaoh. It is also in our prayers that her relationship with Yeshua (Jesus) maintains a grounding of commitment similar to that of Ruth’s.

Wherever He goes, she will go. Where He stays, she will stay. His people shall be her people, and His G-d her G-d.

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Seven Species Muffins

I am a firm believer in the saying “without tradition, our lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on a roof“, and as my husband and I continue to build our home I find myself relying heavily on tradition for help. Growing up in a secular household I only had speckles of traditions here and there, but nothing particularly concrete or foundational. It was more along the lines of routine rather than tradition.  When I came to Messianic Judaism as a young adult, I suddenly entered into a world overflowing with traditions. As Tevye the dairyman in Fiddler On The Roof elaborates: “we have traditions for everything! How to sleep, how to eat, how to work, how to wear clothes…“, and that is no exaggeration. In Judaism there is a way to confront anything and everything in life. How to mourn, how to celebrate, how to face the big and important stuff, and how to get through everyday routines. Having transitioned from a life without traditions into a life overwhelmed with them, I very clearly realize the importance of keeping them alive whether they be great or small. With the traditions I’ve eagerly taken a hold of as my own I find myself on a steady surface that helps hold me upright while the world around me seems unsteady and shaky. As a mother trying to raise her child to be righteous and G-dly, I am in great need of such steadiness.

While I try to incorporate certain traditions into the nooks and crannies of the everyday, holidays are perhaps most dominated by traditions. One of my favorite things about Judaism is the fact that these holidays are almost always observed kinesthetically. On Rosh Hashanah we blow shofars. On Yom Kippur we fast. On Sukkot we build and dwell in sukkot. On Hanukkah we light the menorah. On Purim we literally reenact the book of Esther, and on Pesach we go through the motions of Israel’s escape from Egypt during the seder.

And then there are minor holidays such as Tu B’shevat, which is the “new year for trees”. While it was once a day used to calculate agricultural cycles, it quickly became a sort of Jewish Earth Day. While I’m not particularly hyper with go-green sentiments, I do appreciate nature as G-d’s creation, and I most certainly believe it is our responsibility to tend and enjoy it. Even more important to me is the fostering of a culture which we now deeply connect with, even for the minor stuff. So this year Tu B’shevat was on my radar.

I was then left with a question of how to observe. After an ice storm we couldn’t plant trees as is tradition to do. I have a strong aversion toward “Tu B’shevat sedars”, and while it is completely appropriate to donate money toward planting a tree in Israel, it isn’t something my toddler could be involved in.

So I went with two activities that gave a nod toward the day (three if you count watching the Tu B’shevat episode of Shalom Sesame). First we planted my son’s very first herb garden which included cilantro, parsley (hopefully to be used at our seder in a few months), chives, and oregano. We placed the containers in front of a large window at my son’s level so they continue to be his responsibility and enjoyment.

Of course, like almost all other holidays (with the exception of Yom Kippur), there is  traditional food to be prepared. With Tu B’shevat it is customary to eat a new fruit and/or the seven species of Israel (wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives, and honey, which is all derived from Deut. 8:8). Originally I wanted to make a full meal that incorporated all of these elements, but ironically enough our ice storm had us locked in the house a couple days prior to Tu B’shevat, and that had me hustling at the last minute.

I ended up going with one recipe that included all seven elements, and it was delicious. My toddler enjoyed helping since there was plenty for him to pour and mix. It’s a simple enough process, though I did have to grind my own barley flour since my regular groceries store didn’t carry it (I found the grain in the Mexican aisle though!).

The result was delicious, and definitely something I will continue to do every year.
A nice little way to celebrate a nice little holiday. A new tradition.

Ingredients
3/4 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup dried figs
1/2 cup dates
1 1/4 cup whole milk
1/4 cup applesauce
1 tbs cinnamon
1 tsp all spice
2 eggs
1/3 cup olive oil
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup barley flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 cup pomegranate seeds
honey as a spread

Directions

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Chop up dates and figs and put them in a blender or food processor along with milk, applesauce, cinnamon, and allspice. Blend until the consistency is smooth and thick. Set aside.

In a bowl mix eggs, olive oil, sugars, and the vanilla. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, mix the flours, baking soda, and salt. Toss in the pomegranate seeds until they are well coated.

Pour the blended fig/date mixture into the flour mix and stir until well blended. Add the egg mixture.

Fold in the raisins

Spray a muffin tin with cooking spray, and spoon in batter. Place prepared muffin sheet in the oven, and immediately turn heat down to 375 degrees F.

Bake for 23 minutes.

When muffins are cool, cut in half and spread honey in the middle of them.

Enjoy!

High Holiday Reflections

This was not my proudest week. I’ve been feeling awful, crummy, and burdened with a sense that life is being held together with bubble gum and shoe string. While I normally feel like I have this wife and mother thing figured out, I was put in my place by a mix of frantic car shopping, a broken air conditioner (which we still needed even in September), failed plans, a messy house that was beginning to drive me mad, lack of sleep, and a very real case of terrible twos that I am still trying to figure out how to deal with. It has been a week of a constant battle in my mind between one half insisting that I am doing okay and will conquer the chaos, and the other latching onto feelings of failure and defeat.

Now we enter into the holiday season, where my time is consumed with Rosh HashanahYom Kippur, and Sukkot. While I am about to face many hours at our synagogue over the next couple of weeks, preparing various foods for the numerous community meals, and an overall topsy turvy schedule, you would think that the constant rush would push my anxiety over the edge. On top of the hustle and bustle of holiday season, this is also a time of heavy reflection and acknowledgement of the ways we fall short as humans, as if I didn’t have enough guilt over my faults recently. Yet as Shabbat rolled in on Friday night I was able to release the breath I had been holding in all week, and take in rush of fresh air.

As a major control freak it is almost as if the sudden burst of stress and panic was a form of pre-holiday preparation. I am regularly attempting to force life to go my way, stepping in to do everything myself when I feel things are going opposite of what I desire. If you were to ask me who the ultimate authority is over my life I would quickly answer “G-d“, and deep down I know that to be true. In practice, however, it seems as if I am making routine attempts to high jack that authority for myself. This week I had to acknowledge all of the strengths I lacked, and confront my weaknesses. I failed at so many things, and the tasks that I did successfully accomplish took so much energy and effort that it didn’t feel at all like achievements. By the time Shabbat arrived I was completely drained.

As we inched closer to this holiday season I had so many plans and goals. I wanted a cleaner house, better food prepared, less stress, more confidence in my parenting, and I wanted the days leading up to Rosh Hashanah to be filled with excitement and anticipation. Instead I received what I truly needed. This week of chaos left me with little of what I had set my mind to. My ego was bruised and my confidence wounded. It left me the way we all should feel coming into these holidays. Broken and ready for repair.

This is the time of year when we face G-d straightforward. Admitting our defects can make these days heavy and difficult, but there is also a sense of freedom accompanied with our confessions. It is commanded that we set aside this precious time to reflect, and while our worship is directed solely onto Him, this is also a time for our benefit. Last week I continued to push through and spared no time to regather myself, and if I struggled with that in one week then imagine what the rest of my year looks like.

Our all knowing G-d tells us to pause. We are drowning, and our instinct is to flail our limbs in every which way as we try to save our panicked selves, which only accelerates our sinking. Instead, what we need is to be still long enough to float on the surface. We are told these holidays “…shall be to you like a Sabbath…“, and we are expected to set everything aside to rest, observe, and sift through the deepest places in our hearts. We are to halt our panic, and instead calmly rise away from whatever is pulling us under.

In between the food, music, and schmoozing, there is the uncomfortable and intimidating process of encountering our transgressions, whether they are against another person or G-d Himself. For anyone who truly takes these holidays for what they are, it is a tough process. Just like swallowing a spoon full of medicine. However, just like medicine, once we overcome the initial challenge we can feel ourselves begin to heal. We can realize what it is in our everyday life that leaves us broken, and start to repair for the future. We are not stuck on a carousal of saying and doing the wrong things. Through the Days of Awe we are receiving a chance to step away, realize where we are going wrong, and decide to change. We are given the chance to catch our breath before we re-enter the title wave of everyday life.

As I think back on the core feelings I experienced just within this past week, I can pin point sensations of pride, envy, jealousy, distrust in G-d, and various other experiences that can be traced back to my sinful nature as a human being. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are reminders that I cannot save myself, and with all the mistakes I make in my life that is an incredibly reassuring reminder. I know that if I were expected to provide my own salvation I would fail gravely, just like I fail at so many other things. Just as G-d continues to hold our hands through the process of accepting that redemption, He provides us a time to step out of our routine in order to reevaluate what that deliverance means for us.

It means we have another chance to do better. We do not need to be enslaved to our mistakes, and they do not have to define us. Humanity has such a hard time admitting that we do wrong, and our excuses can run rampant when our sins catch up with us. When we are forced to bow our heads in defeat and admit our faults, setting excuses and denial aside, we are able to begin the process of improvement.

I want my life to be so much more than balancing between justifying my wrong doings and hanging over feelings of guilt. I want to be revived when my imperfections overpower me, and be continuously molded so that whoever I am when I decease is the best person I could possibly be. I should be able to refocus whenever I make a mistake. I should be able to recall everyday the fact that G-d provides for me what I cannot provide myself, while also giving me the power to overcome my lapse of righteousness and goodness. Among all of my other struggles, however, is my forgetfulness to pause and reflect. When the average day becomes too much for me to handle I once again start to drown in my panic, forgetting to still myself long enough to be lifted above the surface. So I am given Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. A time to encounter what is most difficult in my life, be freed from it’s subjection, and brought further into the dominion of The One who truly holds His merciful authority over my life.

And that is such a sweet experience every single time.

Mothers: An Image of G-D

We live in an age where women are not bound to a specific role in life. They can heal people as doctors, defend justice as lawyers, spread knowledge as teachers, voice a message as authors, or lead an entire nation as politicians. Women have the ability to be of great influence, and they can choose among a variety of opportunities in life.

For those women who choose to stay home with their children, it can sometimes be discouraging to think about our worldly influence. While we proudly make the decision to put all our efforts into raising a family, our self-worth can be damaged by the question of “what do you do?”. It sometimes may seem that people ask that question expecting to hear something exciting and worthwhile. When we answer “I stay home”, it’s suddenly as if our influence in the world is minuscule. All believers strive to have a role in the coming of the kingdom. We all want to participate in bringing forth “tikkun olam” (repairing of the world). If we choose to stay in our homes, concentrating on our specific family, how are we ever going to contribute to G-d’s greater plan? It’s a question many of the stay at home mothers I know struggle with.

Overall I don’t dwell on this question too much. I’m thrilled to do what I do, and I chose to stay home because I feel it is a necessity for my family. G-d made it very clear to me that I need to focus on my child, and I dare not question His intentions for me. That does not mean, however, that I am not struck with self-consciousness every now and then, especially when I’m speaking to someone who is out and about changing lives through their work. Every now and then I need something that uplifts my spirits, and reminds me that my role in life is worth a great deal.

A great encouragement, however, came this past weekend at my community’s annual women’s retreat. The theme this year focused on being created “in the image of G-d”, and how we as women reflect that image. For part of the time we glanced at the characteristics of G-d, and how He possesses both masculine and feminine traits. We are familiar with the masculine language used to describe G-d (such as the Bible’s use of the word “He”, or referring to Him as “The Father”), but there are also times when G-d is compared to a motherly figure as well (Isaiah 66:13, or Luke 13:34 for example).

For me, this presented a new and improved perspective as the matriarch of my household. We know that G-d created both man and woman in His image, as stated in Genesis 1:27. However, the first time we see G-d declaring something as “not good” is in Genesis 2:18 when He says that it is not good for man to be alone. As G-d is the definition of what is good, His reflection (man) should be good as well. So G-d solved this by giving man a woman.

This small detail really hit me, and it’s something I have been thinking about ever since coming home from the retreat. I had already known that my son needs both a mother and father figure for a variety of practical reasons. However, I walked away from this weekend realizing that together as man and woman, husband and wife, father and mother, two people working as one unit, we present a reflection of G-d.

The two distinct roles of father and mother are not required solely for the every day functions of our house. These roles are needed to help show my son who G-d is. G-d presents Himself in many ways, whether it’s through His word, prophetic dreams or visions, blessings, the words of our congregational leaders, or even the actions of complete strangers. One of these manifestations is the reflection a father and mother show their children. The role of a mother, half of a complete image of G-d, is no small thing to be. It is a responsibility that cannot be taken lightly, and one that can have great impact not only in the lives of her children, but in the world as a whole.

As we raise our kids we are presenting them with a message and way of life that will be passed down from generation to generation. They are the future. The people who will continue leading by example and spreading this message. What we instill in them will be spread to their friends, their coworkers, their own children. There is something special and important in the decision to give up any personal success in order to focus solely on one’s family. It’s something that shouldn’t make us feel ashamed, but proud. We see that what we impress upon our children will have a variety of ripple effects, so we might as well give it our all.

This does not mean that G-d expects all women to stay home with their children. It does not mean that there isn’t another purpose and path that G-d may lead some women through. Women have made great impacts throughout history outside of their homes, and they too have contributed to tikkun olam. Their work should never be diminished, and everyone should be encouraged to follow the path G-d has set forth for them, traditional or not. It most certainly doesn’t make them any less of a mother.

I am, however, saying that those of us who choose a more subtle and traditional life are worth something as well. We are not stuck in the house because we would be unsuccessful in other areas of life. We are not the weakened damsels who remain locked away at home under our husband’s enslaving authority. Our kids are not the chains that make our lives a miserable Hell. That imagery is pathetically deceitful, yet very common in the mindset of general society these days.

We are so much more than that. We too strive to accomplish G-d’s work, and we have a purpose in our roles. We play a part in the completed reflection of who G-d is, and we present that image to our children who will continue the progress of tikkun olam.

So, remember that next time someone asks “what do you do?”.

You strive to present the future generations with the image of G-d.

Above all else, that is what we were created to do.