The blessings of community

These past six weeks have been a crash-course in learning about what the word “community” really means.

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Utterly broken

Two weeks ago, I put up this post about heading into the High Holidays still mourning the loss of my father, but in a very different place grief-wise than I was a year ago.

Two hours after I posted that, I found out that my younger brother was dead.

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Elul and the passing of time

It’s common knowledge that as we get older, we become more aware of time. It seems to pass more quickly than in our youth, with the months and years marching past so fast that we feel dizzy.

When my father died, I initially counted his absence in days. It was important to do so because for the first 30 days, I wore a torn ribbon over my heart as an outward sign of my inward grief.  Once those 30 days passed, I still counted in days, ensuring that I recited the Mourner’s Kaddish each evening before saying the Sh’ma. As time passed, I began marking the loss of him in weeks.  Every Friday, I’d say to myself, “It’s been X weeks since Dad died.”

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The Music of the Forest

I wake up in the woods.

Well – for complete disclosure – I wake up in a motorhome parked in the woods. But still… I wake to the sound of chirping birds and absolutely nothing else.

Complete and total silence.

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A very personal Shabbat Nachamu

Friday night, I sat around a beautifully prepared Shabbos table with five other women. My dear friend Elizabeth had invited us all, and then spent massive amounts of time making sure everything was perfect. And it was. The food was fantastic – I’m still drooling over the hummus and mushrooms she served – and the company was… well… it’s almost hard for me to put into words how I felt, and still feel, about the women around that table. Read More

Welcome to Camp Echo Hill!

When we bought our Winnebago last fall, we obviously had plans to camp.  But… where?  Read More

A note on my absence

I’ve been silent these past months, not by choice but because grief, depression, and crippling anxiety attacks have rendered me immobile. I have felt stationary – unable to muster basic interest in most things besides sleeping, reading, and endlessly scrolling through social media feeds.  I’ve still pushed myself everyday; I’ve still gotten out of bed and gone to work, but that in and of itself has caused anxiety as I question my ability to do my job, my career choices, and my prospects for the future.

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Is it camping season yet???

All I can think about is camping.

Gracie Rides Again is winterized and buttoned up for the season (minus the access panel we usually have rolled up so that we can still get inside) and she can’t really go anywhere right now, but I have camping on the brain.

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