My New Year: A Lesson in Compromise and Hope

 

Kalev in his Yom Kippur finery

We just celebrated the Jewish New Year. It is one of my favorite times of the year—filled with hope, spirituality and renewal. But this year it came so incredibly fast. I enjoyed Rosh Hashanah—did some apple art projects with Kalev and made some yummy festive apple dishes to celebrate. Enjoyed the family service and Tashlich. Really wished I could have attended the other services but we couldn’t find a sitter and since they were during Kalev’s bedtime and naptime, it made things difficult. So I dealt with my annoyance and compromised there—this year Matt would get to attend Erev Rosh Hashanah (the evening service) and the morning service since I felt Kalev needed me to put him to bed and down for his nap. And my main thing that I’ve really recognized in myself and in the person, and mother, I want to be is my need to meet Kalev’s needs to the best of my ability. So I stayed home. Is that why the Days of Awe flew by and all of a sudden it was Yom Kippur? How did that happen? Usually I am at my most introspective during these days, really thinking about who I am, what I have done, and what I want to change for the next year. This is when I make my new year’s resolutions. I don’t do it January 1^st; during the Jewish New Year I am feeling more spiritual and more in tune with myself. Therefore it’s the ideal time for deep thinking, planning, and goal setting. The resolutions I create are a combination of what I want to accomplish in the next year and what transgressions I committed in the past year that I want to cease and change for next year. But this year the days went by so fast that all of a sudden it was Kol Nidre (the evening service of Yom Kippur) and I realized I hadn’t done my deep thinking. Who had I harmed? Who did I need to make amends to? What actions did I need to cease? What did I want to do differently next year? What were my resolutions? And the super big intense question of all—holy crap, would I be inscribed in the Book of Life when I had forgotten to do all this? I had ten days to do this thinking and suddenly I was freaking out and looking deep inside myself as I nursed Kalev to sleep.

Luckily we have the internet. And boy did I use it that night. If I could not be at services sitting next to my husband, listening to the wisdom of our very special and intelligent Rabbi, I was going to do my own Yom Kippur session at home while my baby slept in my arms (this became quite fitting once I made some important connections about myself and my wants). So I read and read about Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, articles and blogs, stories of High Holiday experiences now and of a long time ago. I came across a strategy for making and keeping your resolutions. I quickly jotted down my responses:

            To be more patient.

            To not yell as much.

            To not be as judgmental about others.

            To not be as envious of others.

            To be more mindful.

            To parent with love not coercion.

            To schedule our time with activities of love, not obligation.

            To say “no” more. (Not to my husband of course! ;-))

When I reviewed these resolutions I realized that this year they were really internal, about changing and improving my inner self and how that is reflected upon and connected to those I love. And that’s kinda cool because that’s what I keep saying I want but this quick knee-jerk response exercise showed me that this is indeed who I am right now. And that gave me a really nice feeling of peace. Of being okay with the compromises I am making so that I can be this person I feel I need and want to be.

Having this knowledge of myself and where I wanted to be really helped me frame the rest of Yom Kippur in a way that was most meaningful to me. I again did not make it to all the services; that was my compromise between the Jew I want to be and the mother I am and need to be. We all went to the family service. By looking at this service through my new “deep thinking” lens, I didn’t think about it like I had on Rosh Hashanah—how short it was, how I missed the truly awesome sermon our Rabbi led on Rosh Hashanah that everyone keeps talking about, or how much we kept singing that same darn “Turning” song. Instead, I focused on how this service really simplified the holiday for me so that I could get the nuts and bolts of the special day in about 30 minutes. Not ideal for the Jew I want to be, but essential for the mother I am to the 22-month-old toddler that still couldn’t sit through the entire service. When Kalev and I went home to nap we watched some of the fun High Holiday you tube videos we had discovered (Aish’s Rosh Hashanah Rock--Kalev is soooo going to be a breakdancer! and The Fountainhead’s Dip Your Apple). Definitely no Rabbi Alfi sermon, but again, the simple message in a fun way that I can remember, think about, and most importantly share and teach to my son, who absolutely loves these videos and keeps asking for “more, more” even though Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are now over. So definitely another compromise that I came to accept was right for this time and place in my life.

The one grown-up service I got to attend most of was the afternoon service, where we went through the Avodah. As we started the responsive reading of this section I was kinda like, oh great, I get to stay for the super sad stuff of an already intense day. But as I listened to a Holocaust survivor read in Yiddish and then in English about his brothers in the gas chambers of Amsterdam I realized I was here attending this service for a reason. I don’t like sad stuff. I rarely read about the Holocaust because it makes me so sick. I like happy ending books. I like Rosh Hashanah when we’re singing and feeling uplifted. But here I was, deep into the saddest of the sad, reading some really graphic stuff. This was part of the point of this day--to look in the mirror, to face death, and to question whether what you face is what you want to be. And thinking that way turned my uncomfortable sad feelings into feelings of hope. He made it. We as a people made it. There are lots of sad and icky and scary things going on in this world right now but we have the power to make a difference. I’m not a political person but as I sat listening to the melody of this man, this survivor’s, voice, I felt the deep knowledge of power and connection. Power in choosing paths, in electing our government leaders, in teaching of right and wrong and in freedoms. All things I want to teach my son. This connection and inspiration gave me lots of hope for myself, my family, and my community. And it gave me hope for the person I saw in my mirror.

I did not have a High Holy Day experience like I usually have. I did not attend all the services, I missed some really neat sermons, and I connected with the holiday more as a child would than an adult. But I think I got the message. I want to change. I want to cleanse my mistakes, start fresh and make next year a good year. I want to be a better person. I want to be inscribed in the Book of Life. My experience this year helped me clarify that yes, I want to be a better mother and I want to teach and guide my son to want and do all these things as well, and that it is really okay to put this want as a priority. I may need to compromise on some things and think of creative ways to meet my other priorities and interests but for now, I am a mother. It’s not the easiest thing I’ve done but it’s who I want to be, I’m the happiest and the most peaceful I feel that I have ever been, and I have the joy and responsibility of teaching these lessons to my son. As I think back over this special day, I am filled with hope of giving these gifts of knowledge, of peace, of choice, of connection, of community, and of love to my sweet baby.  

The Joy of Birdwatching

I’ve been meaning to write this post for three months, since the subject matter first became applicable. However, with the craziness of setting up my own practice, finding and meeting and working with clients, enjoying the joys of spring in Davis with an active toddler, working through my goal of reading all 209 Nora Roberts books, and just being a mom, the blog has of course sat on the backburner. Then today, as we were walking through the hallway to leave for our morning walk, Kalev pointed to our Ketubah (Jewish marriage contract). When I realized that what he was pointing to was the subject matter of the blog post I’d been writing in my head for months, I realized it must mean I better get on it. After all, a Ketubah is a symbol of promises, of love and marriage with your spouse, and a covenant with G-d. So it was an ah-ha moment, a sign, that it was time to sit down, table the work on the presentation, and write all about the joys of birdwatching, Kalev’s current favorite activity.

I’ve never really liked birds (sorry Byron, my avid birder friend). Their beady eyes, sharp beaks and the potential to poop on your head and your car gives me the creeps. So when Kalev started pointing and madly gesturing a few months ago I had no idea what he was so excited about. It took me a few walks, and some monkey screeches accompanied by aggressive pointing, to realize Kalev was spotting birds. Ok, fine, I’ll label the bird, give him the sign and continue on our walk. Nope, not enough. This boy fell seriously in LOVE with birds. My sweet boy who does not have much “big boy” language or signs, picked up the sign for bird within a few days. Wow. This quickly followed by saying his version of the word bird, something that sounds like “bahd-bahd,” but hey, this is huge progress. So I listened and got it: birds were important to Kalev, so they would be important to me.

We started stopping on our walks to watch the birds, to label them and practice the sign and the word. Our stops became more frequent and longer, not just to point and notice, but to really watch. And hey, birds are kinda cool. They hop, they stare at you, they peck, they make fun noises, they balance on teeny tiny telephone lines, they sit on tree branches, and they fly. And for a child, new to all things this world has to offer, all those things are the absolute coolest of cool. So I started to look at birds through Kalev’s eyes, away from my fear of getting pecked or pooped on. How something so small can make such delightful sounds, can follow your movements as you inch closer to them, then soar away, high high into the trees. And to watch them fly—wow, that’s pretty cool. Who doesn’t like the idea, or the dream, of flying? Of spreading your wings and soaring? So I started to get it. And we started to see birds everywhere. We see them on our walks, flying from tree to tree, sitting with their birdy friends, pecking at the ground. We saw a nest with a mommy bird flying to and from it on top of the Tutti Fruiti sign by the North Davis Nugget as we waited for Matt to bring out our morning hot chocolate and scone. That was neat. To talk to Kalev about a mommy bringing food for her babies, to see that mommy in action, and to hear the happy little chirps of the satisfied babies. So birdwatching is also a learning time for Kalev, a chance for me to teach him more about this world and for him to grasp some of that knowledge and understanding all by himself. Everyday Kalev points out the birds in his current favorite book, I Am a Little Lion, which we use when he’s on the potty. The joy he has in identifying the tiny drawn objects in the background of the pages is so delightful to watch and brings a jubilant mood that’s contagious. I was so surprised, and of course, proud, that my smart little boy could understand that the birds he saw flying outside could also be drawn in books. Yes, I know, duh!, of course kids get it, but it was the first time, other than doggies (and this boy is surrounded by all things doggies) that he made that connection and I loved it. Go birds! When we buy the dogs’ food at Petco we check out the birds there … and that’s a little sad. Those birds aren’t moving or flying or even pecking. They just sit there. Kalev was pretty confused and kept pointing and signing for bird. And I was like, yep, those are birds, but not like the ones you see on our walks. Ok enough depressing cage free thoughts.

As I have gotten wrapped up in Kalev’s passion for birds, I find myself scouting them out and rushing to point them out to him if he doesn’t notice them himself. “See that bird over there?” “Look at that bird flying!” “Kalev, there’s a bird!” I’m excited by it all, the joy of finding the birds, of watching what they do, and looking at my beautiful son as his smile transforms his face with the delight he has when he sees that bird. He is so excited and happy! This world is pretty amazing, and we are very very blessed to be part of it. It helps to have a child remind you of these things, especially the little ones that we take for granted, like birds. 

So what did Kalev point to at the bottom of our Ketubah this morning? A tiny bird, of course, one that I haven't thought about, despite the fact that I’ve looked at that Ketubah everyday in the last two and a half years Matt and I have been married. The Ketubah we chose is called the "Song of Songs," all about love and happiness and singing birds and nature. And I had forgotten! Now, every time I pass the symbol of my love and promises to my husband and to my G-d, I will think of the love and promises to my child, to be with him on his journey of discovery and the joy of finding delight in so many amazing things. Thus, I can thank Kalev for the new lessons of mindful parenting this whole birdwatching thing has taught me: kids see our world in new and totally cool ways that adults either don't know about or don't think about anymore, join them on that journey; discover what passions your child has, encourage them, learn about them, and have fun with them; and birds aren’t so bad.