Rosh Hashanah... Last year, during the Rosh Hashanah service, it was the first time when I truly felt a “religious” feeling.
It came to me so suddenly, too. I was standing there wondering if this is what God really wanted – all these people in one room, half praying, half sleeping, with little to no religious enthusiasm. (I often wonder about it at a synagogue. To bring myself back to the actual service, I then look at the rabbi, praying so sincerely, and realize that this is really “it,” the true faith is here, but not all of us are at this time allowed to feel it.) Last year, at the Rosh Hashanah service, I was standing with the opened prayer book in my hands, not reading really, but thinking about my year. So many happy things happened, and I was so grateful for them; but I still wasn’t pregnant. That thought made me so sad that I desperately started reading the prayer, more to distract myself from the sadness rather than to pray.
And then I saw it. The prayer right in front of my eyes: “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed <…> Who will rest and who will wander? / Who will be safe and who will be torn? / Who will be calm and who will be tormented?.. But teshuvah and tefillah and tzedakah (return and prayer and righteous acts) deflect the evil of the decree.” I started thinking that if it was written that I would not have a child next year, I had ten days to try to change it. In ten short days I had to rethink my life and reevaluate my mindset to get at least one step closer to getting pregnant. This decision felt so good and so right. I found hope again.
Between last year’s Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur I went to talk to the rabbi. I honestly told him about what was happening in my life and about my feelings. I told him that calling myself Jewish wasn’t enough anymore. I needed to be one. And with his help, after Yom Kippur, with the new understanding I once again learned about how to be a Jewish woman, about the purity of the family and about mitzvahs given only to Jewish women. This past year was not easy. We faced failure after failure; went through more treatments and procedures; struggled through a miscarriage… But my faith was strong like never before.
This year at the synagogue, I was standing on the same spot I stood last year, 21 weeks pregnant, and I felt so grateful. I truly hope that my son will come to the faith, too. That Judaism for him will be more than just general knowledge.
Dear son, I am wishing you a happy and healthy new year. Your father and I cannot wait to share our lives with you! L’Shanah Tovah!
It came to me so suddenly, too. I was standing there wondering if this is what God really wanted – all these people in one room, half praying, half sleeping, with little to no religious enthusiasm. (I often wonder about it at a synagogue. To bring myself back to the actual service, I then look at the rabbi, praying so sincerely, and realize that this is really “it,” the true faith is here, but not all of us are at this time allowed to feel it.) Last year, at the Rosh Hashanah service, I was standing with the opened prayer book in my hands, not reading really, but thinking about my year. So many happy things happened, and I was so grateful for them; but I still wasn’t pregnant. That thought made me so sad that I desperately started reading the prayer, more to distract myself from the sadness rather than to pray.
And then I saw it. The prayer right in front of my eyes: “On Rosh Hashanah it is written, and on Yom Kippur it is sealed <…> Who will rest and who will wander? / Who will be safe and who will be torn? / Who will be calm and who will be tormented?.. But teshuvah and tefillah and tzedakah (return and prayer and righteous acts) deflect the evil of the decree.” I started thinking that if it was written that I would not have a child next year, I had ten days to try to change it. In ten short days I had to rethink my life and reevaluate my mindset to get at least one step closer to getting pregnant. This decision felt so good and so right. I found hope again.
Between last year’s Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur I went to talk to the rabbi. I honestly told him about what was happening in my life and about my feelings. I told him that calling myself Jewish wasn’t enough anymore. I needed to be one. And with his help, after Yom Kippur, with the new understanding I once again learned about how to be a Jewish woman, about the purity of the family and about mitzvahs given only to Jewish women. This past year was not easy. We faced failure after failure; went through more treatments and procedures; struggled through a miscarriage… But my faith was strong like never before.
This year at the synagogue, I was standing on the same spot I stood last year, 21 weeks pregnant, and I felt so grateful. I truly hope that my son will come to the faith, too. That Judaism for him will be more than just general knowledge.
Dear son, I am wishing you a happy and healthy new year. Your father and I cannot wait to share our lives with you! L’Shanah Tovah!
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