The Land of my Sojourning

Life was never ment to be an easy thing. Living is not a concept or a theory or even an idea. It's something that many people feel like it should be a choice, living is not an option, it's a commandment.

There are so many people here who don't want to live for some reason or another. I'm finding it harder and harder to be simpathetic for some people, I'm finding that the people who I originally hang out with, aren't the people I'm drawn to.

The way my heart feels now is hard, I'm tired no matter how much I sleep, I'm upset and angry with anyone who've gotten close to me, or trying to be all that even if they're not. I'm not sure what I want anymore, trying to guide myself is a lot harder than I thought.

I like my roomates but, I also am not close with them. I long for the friends I can spill my guts to and just cry to. I need to cry but it won't come out. I'm scared, upset, I'm happy and overjoyed.

I love everything about this country everything about this land, I'm learning so much and benefiting from it. I'm happy with the "friends" I've made, but I want my Mommy, I want her here when I'm not feeling well, when I'm tired and can't get to sleep. I want her here when I lead services, or when I read Torah. I want my family, I want my security blanket. I want to cry and let it all out, the pain, the joy, the fears, the loss and the sorrow. I want to know why I'm really here, and I want to just be done. Just like our ancestors travled so many miles to find the promised land, I'm traveling thousands of miles to find myself.

I try to figure out who I am, I'm a 17 year old girl, trying to find my way through a dark wet tunnel. The tunnel is filled with sharp rocks, animals, other people trying to find their way as well, and no light to guide us. Some of us speak the same language while other's speak languages I don't know. I try to climb over or around them, somtimes it's a full out brawl, other times it's just an exchange or words. Sometimes they're kind enough to tell me about something on the way.

My hands are dirty and have cuts, my knees are bloody, the scars tell the story of the battles I've been through. Some are deeper than other's, some are just scratches. I can't see where I'm going, there's no light, but I keep looking.

I hope to one day see what my face looks like, I can't wait to be with the people who are like me. I can't wait till I find me, so until then I crawl through this hole, holding back my tears, keeping my guard up, and praying that I get there soon.

Dreams and Visions

I've begun to feel myself being wrapped in eretz yisrael, as I become one with it. In more than just one way I find my family here.

I imagine Kaleb running across the green field, a date in his hand to eat, laughing, singing, and talking in Hebrew with other children around him. I see Joram, talking in very fast, sloppy, and happy Hebrew with his classmates. I can picture Isabelle and I both talking to each other and on the phone with friends in comfortable slang-filled Hebrew, and then switching to English in front of friends, but none the less, smiles stretched to their fullest, and radiating love and a heavenly glow. I see dad, going to and from work in his car here, learning the language as he goes, but a smile on his face in a job he loves and is happy to be in. I see mom, picking up phrases during the day, and basking in the warm Israeli sun, her hair turning blonder each day, and making friends with the others around us. I see all of us walking to a nearby park, a Shabbat lunch in tow, and just enjoying each other's company, all of us talking, being Jewish no matter what, tzittzits hanging freely, wearing skirts, and 3/4 length sleeves or whatever it is we choose.

I see my family here, I see the family I may one day have, and create myself here.

I see in the streets the sheep that once roamed the hills, my ancestors all around me. The battles that took place here, the celebrations, the losses, the victories, the forfeits, in this land with every step I take, I see it all before me. I understand better how and why I pray and am proud to be a Jew, I feel my connection to G-d growing stronger, my areas of questions coming up more often and my hesitation to question them shrinking back.

I feel myself as a person growing, a deeper understanding of who I am coming around, my body grows stronger in pace with my mind.

I've grown so much in just 2 weeks, it's impossible to imagine I could grow any more in the next 3 and a half months. I'm grateful that there is more time ahead than has passed. I love this land too much to give it up just yet...

Loss

As with all life event's, there's a beginning and an end. Today we said goodbye to one of the kids in my unit for at least a short while, how long, we're not exactly sure, but he plans on coming back.

Today we found out that the father of one of the boys in my unit passed away Friday morning. A heart attack.

So while many of use are staying in our rooms feeling icky cause we're coming down with the common cold, he's flying home to only be met with the worst possible thing, the loss of a parent. The idea of coming home to an incomplete family, or one in which someone I love very much wasn't there, would make me question my faith in G-d or even my veiw on life and religion, or what life has in store for me.

At Friday night services, peoples eyes where filled with tears of sorrow, our songs are not so joyful nor uplifting. All over the campus is a quiet and solemn air, those who knew this young man well grieve in pain for his loss, and those who don't know him so well try to comfort them. Our talks and daily discussion become carefully spoken. We're all treading on thin ice, not wanting to say something offensive nor say something to sensitive. For this Shabbat we walk on our eggshells, treading on silent feet and praying for him to come back soon and for our community of learning to be whole once again.

Shabbat #2

I'm kissing the wall, my eyes are closed, in my head I hear voices. No I'm not crazy, these voices are talking to me. They're singing, they're singing the shabbat prayers. I find a crack in the great and mighty wall putting my lips up to it, and singing into it those familar sabbath prayers that have so many memories attached to them. I hear Joram singing loudly, not really aware of how loud he is, but knowing his prayers are reaching G-d loud and clear. I hear Kaleb, singing clearly where he knows it, and watching peoples mouths carfully where he doesn't. I hear Isabelle and Jenna next to me, the three of us singing and trying to not laugh as Jacob, Kaleb, Joram, Anastasia, Phil, or Jonah does something only they can get away with. I hear Marci singing next to me, and singing loudly when Jenna, Isabelle, or I does something we shouldn't and giving us that hard stare with the look of "really?" on her face. I hear Mom, singing next to me, making sure we're all doing what we're supposed to be doing and not misbehaving since it's one of the few things we do best, but also making sure, we're having fun, but not to much fun, only a nice healthy dose of it. I hear Dad, harmonizing along, being himself, and smiling at the community we have, and the family of ours that we love so much. I see everyone around the shabbat table, Mr. and Mrs. Fink, Uncle Phil, Aunt Alicia, Marci, Mom and Dad, all of us kids (There's really to many to name.) I sing to the wall, and pray hard for so many things. I pray for dad to get a better job, or at least one that he likes. I pray for all of these wars to end. I pray for people to use better judgement, and have a more open heart. I pray for the day when being a Jew isn't something you must worry about hiding, but something to be proud of. I pray for my family to join me here in Israel, this land that's so magical, it's my neverland, my heaven, my place where I am at home, my niche in this biome around me. I press my hand to the now warm surface of the wall, and feel that it's wet as well, I was crying and I did not know. I realize how much I miss my family, biological or unbiological, it does not matter to me. I say one last prayer, not one written in a book, nor pounded into my head, but one I felt needed to be said.

"Please G-d, let this world hear the music of life, and let it move them to a higher place."
Shabbat Shalom