Am Yisrael Chai

Translated into English, "Am Yisrael Chai" means "The people of Israel live." The expression has been on a loop in my head since Saturday's massacre in Pittsburgh.

I have been to Israel the same amount of times that I have been to Pittsburgh. Once. And both were in college. That was over twenty years ago.

It was roughly that time in my life when I stopped being a member of a synagogue. I remember finding a local synagogue in West Chester for the High Holidays and every once and a while, I remember coming home and attending services with my mom. The synagogue always represented a safe place for me. A familiar place. A place of comfort.

As I got older and was busy finding my way in this world, my religion felt secondary to me. I still believed and had faith, and I still followed the traditions and rituals that I grew up with. It pretty much ended there, though.

When Gary and I got married, it was important to me that a rabbi perform the ceremony. We were fortunate enough to find a wonderful one. When Miranda was converted to Judaism, we were able to reach out to the synagogue I attended growing up, and they took care of all the details for us. Same for her baby naming. We were not members, but we were a part of the community, and they welcomed us in whatever capacity we desired. 

Two months ago, I joined the synagogue for the first time as an adult. My whole family joined, and we enrolled Miranda in Hebrew School. She has been attending classes every Sunday, and she loves it. She comes home chanting Hebrew songs and telling me all about the Torah. She loves to learn, and to her, Hebrew school is no different than her elementary school. Aside from the fact that it's on the weekend.

Last Saturday, when a gunman entered that shul in Pittsburg and angrily took eleven lives and wounded at least six others, he destroyed the solitude of what a synagogue means to so many people. He took our calm and our innocence. But he did not take our faith.

So many people that I have spoken to in the last 48 hours or so feel stronger than ever that we must come together and stop the madness. We must band together and show up and believe that something like this will never be allowed to happen again. The people of Israel live.

Yesterday, we went to Hebrew school. We hugged each other a little bit more. There were tears in many of our eyes. We were aware of the increased police presence in the parking lot and in the building itself. But we showed up. And we will continue to show up. 

I am proud to be Jewish. I am proud to be raising my daughter in the only religion and faith that I have ever known. I am glad to be a member of a synagogue again, and I feel privileged that I have a safe place to go. To believe. To pray.

The Jews that I know are not quitters. That's not about to start now.

The people of Israel live. The people of this land live. And as long as we live, we will remember. 

Party of Four

To the untrained eye, we look like a family of three. A mom, a dad, and beautiful little girl. To see us out and about, one would never know that we are always missing one.

This past weekend, we had formal family pictures taken. This was the third time ever since Gary and I have been together. The first was when we first brought Miranda home from the hospital. She was a few weeks old, and I remember that she peed all over the photographer. We had our "Allie" bear with us, and the pictures came out beautifully.

The next session was shortly after the courts officially declared Miranda "ours." We did not include Allie in that session as it was really just about her younger sister.

The last session was on Saturday. We all gathered at a local park, and my mom and brothers and their families were there as well. The rain had stopped a few hours prior, and the sun was peeking out just enough from behind the clouds. We have a family friend who is a photographer, and he and his terrific wife gifted my mom this session for her birthday a few years ago. It took us a while, but we all finally made it to picture day.

I was adamant that I wanted Allie in the picture somehow. This was a snapshot of my side of the family, and I wanted both of my girls in it.

We knew the Allie bear would not look right. I wore a bracelet with a butterfly charm. I thought maybe that was enough.

Gary, on the other hand, went right to our front yard and pulled out the large blue butterfly that we have hanging out there year round. 

We carried that butterfly though the park, and we proudly placed it where it needed to be in the pictures as a symbol of our first born. It calmed me to have her there. 

I will never know if Allie would have been all smiles at the photo shoot or if she would have have been nervous or anxious or not all smiles. I will never get to dress her in an outfit that matches ours, and I will never get to look at the proofs and think about how much she looks like Gary or me. All I have is a butterfly from the Ocean City boardwalk that resides in our front yard. I am not sure that's enough. And yet it has to be.

Miranda came home from school a few weeks ago with an assignment to fill in the members of her family for a family tree. I agonized over what to do. Do I add Allie and have Miranda explain why there is a sister on the form, but not one in the second grade? Do I add Allie with a note that she has wings? Do I add Allie and then ask for a parent-teacher conference?

In the end, I decided not to add Allie. That does not mean she is not a part of our family. It simply means that when Miranda is old enough to understand and explain her sister, she will. I did not feel it was fair to put that burden on her now, at five years old.

There is so much about parenting after loss that we are still learning. There is so much about living after loss that is still new to us, and we are seven years removed from it.  Does time make it better? No. Does time make it easier? No. Does time give me perspective and distance enough to step back and see what is best for my family and me? Sometimes.

We are and will always be a Party of Four. Even if we are the only ones who know it. 

And so, here we are. We are thrilled with how the pictures came out. I am so pleased that we are all represented. 

In the end, it all worked out.