And this is the blessing

I was struck today by several thoughts as I listened to the last Torah portion of the year. וזאת הברכה (V'zot Habracha)--"And this is the blessing". Moses, before he takes leave of his people, the Jewish nation, blesses each of the 12 tribes according to its national responsibilities and individual greatness.*

I was struck by the women in this tefillah (prayer) group. These are women who want to express their devotion to G-d and take the initiative to do something about it in a halachically respectful way.

I was struck by the last, and then the first portion of the Torah. After we got to the end, two women rolled the entire scroll back to the first portion (Bereishit-Genesis), which was also partially read. This is the symbolism of our cyclical lives, how the Torah never ends, it just goes on year to year, generation to generation. Long after we are all gone, this tradition will continue; there is comfort in that thought.

And finally, I was struck by Moses himself. At the very end of the portion, G-d takes Moses to Mount Nebo and shows him all of Israel.

ויאמר ה' אליו זאת הארץ אשר נשבעתי לאברהם ליצחק וליעקב לאמר לזרעך אתננה הראיתיך בעיניך ושמה לא תעבר

And G-d said to him, This is the land which I swore to Abraham, to Isaac and to Jacob, saying, I will give it to your offspring. I have let you see it with your own eyes, but you shall not cross over to there.

All Moses wants is to make Aliya, to get to the promised land. He was the greatest prophet to ever live and for one seemingly small transgression he is given this huge punishment. I know there are many reasons, explanations, midrashim etc. of why Moses was not allowed into Eretz Yisrael. Whatever the explanation, it's one of those things I just can't make sense of--the punishment is just so much greater than the crime. And so every year when I hear this, I shed a tear for Moses for not being allowed to fulfill the one thing he always dreamed of; and am reminded of how priviledged I am because I was.


*(source: Artscroll Tanach, Stone edition)

9/11

It's hard to believe that 9 years have passed since that black, horrible day. If I close my eyes I can transport myself back to that time, to the fear and the silence and the tears.

It ushered in an era that I don't think is over yet. And though the horrific events of the day briefly united us as a nation, ultimately it has torn us apart. How does America deal with terrorism? Do we react with force or do we try to engage our enemies? These political differences have created an ever-widening rift in the country of my birth. Indeed, these differences divide the people of Israel as well.

There are no easy answers to these questions. But just for today, I am taking the time to remember and to honor the victims, those who died trying to save them and all of the rest of the amazing people who came out to rebuild my broken city, as well as those who died at the pentagon and on Flight 93.

A new table, a new year and new gas masks

I vaguely remember getting up this morning, getting myself and everyone ready for school and work. Then work, where I thought I worked hard, but turned out to be the easiest part of the day. After that I went to visit a friend who was just released from the hospital following some surgery. Two more stops at two different supermarkets to find fish heads (I like the real thing on my Rosh Hashana table. It totally grosses the kids out).

Then Isaac calls me. "The table's going to be delivered between 2 and 4 PM". We had ordered a dining room set eons ago and Isaac's been calling the store daily to nag them to get it to us before the upcoming holiday (we were told it was coming three weeks ago). Great, I said. I'll head home (it was already after 2).

But first I squeezed in a visit to pick up gas masks for the entire family. That was fun. I also made a trip to the money changer, who for no apparent reason was closed. I got home at 3 PM to find no new table anywhere.

I baked a Better-than-Drakes Coffee cake, prepped my meat dish, marinated a whole chicken, made Mimi's stuffed turkey breast. Carol dropped by and chatted while I contined cooking. I went to get my haircut, where I bumped into my friend Lisa. She must live at Dani Mor, she's always there when I get my haircut and I only go twice a year. Come to think of it her hair always looks great.

I returned home to find no new table. It was now 6 PM.

I cooked the Carrots for Mimi's Morrocan Carrot Salad (not as successful as the turkey), made the sauce for the Morrocan fish we're having on Thursday, and set up the pumpkin soup.

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law arrived and I chit-chatted a bit with them, but then went back to work in the kitchen.

I called some family and friends in the states to wish them the best for the new year.

Still no table.

I blended the pumpkin soup with my handy-dandy immersion blender, got pumpkin soup all over my shirt, an opportune time for three men to show up with my table.

I really like the table. Of course I can't be 100 percent sure that it's the one I ordered because it's been so long I really don't remember any more.

Whatever.

Here's hoping that you and yours have many happy gatherings around your tables this year. That all gas masks gather dust, or dare I say it--are returned because peace reigns in the world (hey, a girl can dream).

And, always in my heart and prayers: Gilad. I hope this is the year you come home.

Three years and counting

I couldn't let the day go by without acknowledging it. Today we celebrated our third anniversary here.

I guess it says something that I thought about letting the day going by without a post. We're old hat here. "Vatikim", they call us--old timers. And when I look at my friends who just arrived last month and other friends who arrived less than two weeks ago I feel a little bit of that. I can answer their questions. Understand thier experiences. I know the joy and pride they are feeling now and can almost predict some of the other, more complicated emotions they are going to feel as they continue their journey.

And I hope they arrive at the moment I am enjoying now. The moment when it seems so natural to be here that they almost--but not quite--forget that the date is the anniversary of one of the extraordinary events of their lives.

As a family, we've gone through much. I still feel that my kids are my heroes. Liat, finding her place here and proving that teens can make Aliya (move to Israel)and maintain their academic excellence. Tali, who has thrived and matured and has an amazing circle of friends. And Orli, who you'd think was Israeli if you saw her hanging out.

I'm glad I didn't just let the day go by. I'm proud of what we've all accomplished here.

And I'm looking forward to more.

(beh)

Woof! A report from Ozzy the wonderdog

Finally,it's my turn! That woman, my so-called mom, never gets off the darn computer. I mean, I know I don't have opposable thumbs, but these paws manage. You'd think she'd let me have my say every now and then. Well here I am, about to tell you the real story.

The past few weeks have been very, very difficult for me. First, they start bringing out boxes, which made me quite nervous. The boxes just sat there for a long time and nothing happened, so I start to relax. But every so often one of the big ones says to the other, "honey we really need to start packing", and the other one says, "Yeah, we should. Tomorrow". (You have never seen procrastinators like these people. How they ever get anything done at all is beyond me).

One day, a couple of weeks ago my mom, who you call Baila, starts to put things in boxes. She takes lots of breaks and mutters stuff under her breath. I don't quite understand what she's saying, but it doesn't sound very nice. As she's packing, I'm getting more and more panicky. This is bringing up some very bad memories.

We've been through this before.

A long time ago they started putting stuff in boxes. Then one day some people came and took everything away. Then they stuck me in my crate for 12 hours and put me a place that was really loud with no food and some ice. I was petrified. Still, I managed to hold it in for the whole trip. Really. I wasn't going to go where I sleep! A dog has got to have some standards. When they finally let me out, I found myself in a new place. There were no squirrels to chase and everyone talked funny. I was depressed for weeks, but then I realized how nice this place is. I learned the language, made some friends and I was feeling pretty good. And there are way more cats here than there were squirrels in that other place.

But now, again with the boxes. And slowly, but surely, they started to fill them up. Mom talked to me. "Ozzy," she said, "I don't want you to be surprised, so I gotta tell you we're moving. It's not like last time, we're just moving a few blocks away. There'll be some changes for you, but I think you'll like it there. I'm sure you'll see lots of cats there, too." All I really heard was "Ozzy, blah, blah, blah, blah, cats, blah, blah, blah". But I gave her that look where I look like I really understood what the heck she was talking about and she seemed satisfied.

The big day came and these big guys with long arms started to shlep things out of my house. They put me in the cage so I wouldn't be in the way. How insulting. Me in the way. These people are carting things out of my house and I'm the one in the way. At some point mom took me over to Monty's house. As she walked me there she talked to me again.

"Ozzy", she said, "Today is the day we're moving to that new place I told you about. You're going to spend the day at Monty's and tonight Abba and I will pick you up".

Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. "I'll show you", I thought to myself. I had a plan.

I trotted into Monty's house, went over to the carpet and promptly marked my territory. I NEVER do that in a house. NEVER. But desperate times call for desperate measures. My mom was really embarrassed and apologized to Ilana a thousand times. I had her right where I wanted her!

About Monty: We have an agreement. His mom, Ilana, loves me to pieces. She is always scrinching my neck and cooing with me. I find her to be kind of hot. But everytime she does that Monty lumbers over. He's jealous and then Ilana always says, "Oh, Monty, I love you best". Annoys the hell out of me. Finally, I just told Monty that I will tolerate him but I don't have to be friends with him just because our moms are friends. He got mad and I was kind of afraid because he really is so much bigger than me. But I stood my ground and now when we see each other, which is pretty often, we just ignore each other which is just fine with me.

It was a pretty miserable day with Monty. Ilana and all the others left us alone. I ate all of Monty's food, so that made me happy. I would have peed a couple more times on the carpet but it's not worth it if noone's around to see it.

When my people came to get me, they took me to this new place. Very nice, but lots of boxes everywhere and I don't like that at all. I found a corner and lay there. My new plan was to lay there all the time and look depressed so we could go back to the other place.

That plan didn't work quite as well. We're still here. There are alot less boxes, so I'm feeling a little better. There's a field down the block where they take me to, so I get to run around and have even chased a cat or two there. (I never seem to catch them, but it's the thrill of the chase I enjoy). Up at the new house there don't seem to be that many cats, but there are lots of pigeons. We're on top of a hill and I see them fly by all the time. The other day one even flew into the house. Boy, did I have fun barking at it. Mom wasn't as thrilled about that one as I was.

I guess I'm settling into this place. Change is difficult, but it happens in life. You learn to go with the flow, if you know what I mean. It makes me a better person dog.

Uh-oh, there she comes again. She wants her computer back. I'm glad I got a little time in to tell you what's been going on here at Casa Baila. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay.

And I bet Monty never posted on anyone's blog.

There we are looking like best buds. But you know the truth.

The view from here

Last week we moved from the rental we have been living in since we made Aliya to the apartment we bought here in Israel.

Isaac and I feel so blessed that we are able to own a little piece of this land of ours. As a constant reminder of our blessing, I get to look at this all the time:








With G-d's help we look forward to making many happy memories in our new home with family, new friends and old, for a long time to come.

Closer to perfect

For me, the most difficult thing about making this move to Israel is leaving the people I love behind. At first it was a huge void for me, a mourning of sorts. Slowly, the void turned into a little ache that I could wrap up neatly and tuck away. Every now and then (as in true mourning I now know) the ache rises to the surface.

It could be when I see someone on the street that bears a striking resemblance to someone I miss.

It could be a wedding I missed.

It could be followed by a visit which invariably comes to an end.

Sometimes when someone from America asks me how my Aliya is going, I answer, "if you were here, it would be perfect."

You know the challenges we've had here: the cultural and linguistic difficulties, the lice, watching my kids struggle, financial issues, the heat (Oh G-d, the heat). And yet, the feeling of accomplishing something I dreamed of for so long makes me unbelievably proud. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, I will always have this.

Still, I miss my people. If they would all come here, life for me, would be as perfect as it could possibly be. Sure I joke about missing Target and good pedicures. And I would miss the places, but if the people were here, I think I'd miss them alot less.

Tomorrow, I get just a bit closer to perfect. I've known Carol and Stuart for over 25 years. You know the kind of friends they are, because I know you all have friends like this--the ones that drop everything for you before you even know you needed them to do it.

A story about Carol and me: We were both thrilled when we learned we were due with what turned out to be our youngest kids at the same time. Throughout the pregnancy we made plans as to what we were going to do when we started out maternity leave, before the babies actually arrived. We decided we would go see the first showing of Harrison Ford's new flick Air Force One. We must have also planned lunch, although I don't specifically remember that. Of course, on the first day of our leave I went into labor. I called Carol from the labor room to let her know. As soon as she picked up the phone, she suspiciously asked, "Are those beeping sounds [from one monitor or another] what I think they are? I will be very annoyed if you're canceling our date!"

Tomorrow, Stuart and Carol and their kids, Adina, Ilan, Gilad and Dafna (born three days after Orli) will step off that plane into the blazing Israeli sun. Like us, they've dreamed and talked about this day for years. Like us, they face many challenges as they settle into their lives. They will probably be dazed and exhausted. They will have days when they will have serious doubts about their decision. But like us, they have a clear vision of what they are doing and why. Tomorrow, the Katzes will have made it to the Holy Land.

And my life will be one step closer to perfect.