In my early days of motherhood, my family and I lived in a predominantly Jewish neighborhood within walking distance of a synagogue. I was not raised in a particular religion, and the only education I received about Judaism was from reading books about the Holocaust. (In fact, I had never met anyone Jewish until college, when I was randomly placed with a Jewish roommate who became one of my best friends.)

‍

As my children began elementary school, we made many Jewish friends. I bought a menorah as a way to honor our friends, and each night during Hanukkah, instead of saying the prayers (we had no idea how to say them or what the words meant), my family honored someone in our lives who was Jewish, living or dead, as we lit the candles. We talked about how each person brought meaning into our lives. I was tickled when our first grader came home from school one day with a drawing of a menorah and a Christmas tree on her paper. She was happy to declare that she celebrated both holidays!

‍

In the fall of 2017, friends of ours invited our family to a Shabbat service at the Reform synagogue nearby. As soon as I sat down and listened to the cantor sing in Hebrew, I knew I was home. 

‍

My family and friends were surprised when I began attending services on a more regular basis. I was the kid growing up who had a bumper sticker on her first car that said “Question Authority,” which I later recognized was another reason I chose Judaism. In Jewish tradition, I was allowed to question! I was always more interested in questions than answers. Judaism allowed a space to wonder rather than know. For me, that was very centering to my soul. 

‍

I began meeting with the rabbi. I took Introduction to Judaism classes. I attended Torah study. The rabbi and I explored personal prayer, the idea of tikkun olam (repairing the world), and how shalom meant more than peace — that wholeness was at the center. 

‍

My rabbi was centered on mindfulness, which was perfect for me. My children and I began saying the Shema before bedtime. The word Shema, “listen,” gave me a sense of stillness and gratitude for the gift of life. Prayer, in some form, became a part of my daily ritual. I learned there is a blessing for almost everything in Judaism. My takeaway was that these daily blessings were opportunities to be in the present. Prayer allows for moment-to-moment awareness, even if those moments are not especially pleasant. I can honor what is: the fear, the uncertainty, and the mess of it all, which at times, is life. 

‍

Around the time that I realized I wanted to convert, my husband and I separated and one of my dearest friends — I call her my “other mother” — was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer. I was worried that because I could not commit to my marriage, how would I know I was ready to commit to Judaism? My rabbi asked me to look inward and to make a decision based on my own inner wisdom rather than the “what ifs.”

‍

For me, Judaism was the right choice. A sense of community and a knowing that this was where I belonged was the all the answer I needed.

‍

The day of my conversion arrived, and I went with several rabbis to the nearby mikvah, the ritual bath. Taking this formal step, I felt connected to people of our past more than ever before. As a new Jew with no family history, feeling connected to the Jewish culture had been a struggle. My self-talk included the refrain: “I am not really Jewish, I am a fake.” But when I immersed in the water, I realized I was connected and a part of the ancestors of Abraham and Sarah. I knew I was created in the image of the Divine. 

‍

In the water, I dipped three times and said the three blessings: the Tevilah (the blessing for immersion), the Shema (one of the most central prayers in Jewish tradition), and the Shehecheyanu (the blessing for “firsts” and special moments). 

‍

Today, although I haven’t been to the mikvah since, I say the Shehecheyanu often. I say it in the bathtub or when I witness magic happening in front of my eyes, like seeing the northern lights. I say it during the “small” big moments as well, like when I saw my child saving worms after a heavy rain. 

‍

Within three months of my conversion, my other mother died. A week later, I was officially divorced. I was surprised to see there were no rituals or prayers for a divorce. I did write my own prayer for healing, drank wine, and regularly listened to Brandi Carlile’s album By The Way, I Forgive You. This helped me to the other side of grief.

‍

When my other mother died, I had two young children who also loved her dearly and were trying to make sense of it all.  We attended her funeral, and the next day we talked about what we could do to honor her memory. My youngest suggested we paint rocks in her memory, so we painted rocks with her name on them and decorated them with bright colors. Each of us had a rock to put in our pocket in case we missed her, so that she would always be with us. We kept the other rocks in a blessing basket. Each year on her yahrzeit, we paint another rock to honor her. We do the same for others we hold tightly in our memories.  

These rituals have contributed to my family and I feeling more connected emotionally and spiritually. The Shema is a reminder that in the silence, we are able to hear. And the Shehecheyanu reminds us to be grateful for the small and big moments in life. Prayer may not be able to solve the world’s problems, but it offers a space to offer gratitude, a space to be still, and a space to send loving energy to others.

‍

At The Well uplifts many approaches to Jewish practice. Our community draws on ancient Jewish wisdom, sometimes adapting longstanding practices to more deeply support the well-being of women and nonbinary people. See this article’s sources below. We believe Torah (sacred teachings) are always unfolding to help answer the needs of the present moment.

‍

Sources

The Shema, My Jewish Learning 

Shehechiyanu: A Meditation on this Moment, My Jewish Learning 

Why Do Jews Put Stones on Graves?, My Jewish Learning 

What Is A Mikveh?, My Jewish Learning 

Dips of the Divine: A Guide to a Transformative Mikvah Experience, At The Well 

‍