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My journal about my conversion to Judaism. |
| I started writing my conversion story in June 2023, even though it started before then. It will not be in chronological order as I remember things from the past that brought me to this point in my life. My decision to convert was not an easy one. I grew up Pentecostal. I watched my grandma speak in tongues. My aunt played keyboard in the church band. I used to attend church (a member of a Baptist church for many years) 3 to 4 times a week. I did not start my journey of healing after my divorce and expect to end up here. However, my desire and work to grow closer to G-d has left me no doubt or question about where I am now. I have no hesitation in my conversion to Judaism. This is my story of leaving Christianity and becoming a part of a people that I will be able to, one day, proudly say that I am also. A Jew. |
| It is the end of the school year, so my days are extra long. If I don't have time to do the Schema before I leave for work because I need to be there extra early, I take my Siddur so I can do it during my prep hour. My days have been so long that I have repeatedly been falling asleep while praying the bedtime prayer. It breaks my heart, because that is my favorite prayer. I passed on a Hebrew lesson last night so I could get to bed a little earlier and make it through the entire prayer. It's not just the length of my days that are throwing off my studying. I was at an awards ceremony to present awards for a few departments. The group of students who received a 3.9 to 4.0 were getting onto the stage and the guy behind me said, "Good thing there are no Jews here." I was floored. I did not know how to take that statement. I have so much more to say, but Shabbat is starting soon. Good Shabbos. |
| I think everyone has heard of Passover when the blood of a lamb was put on the doorposts and the firstborn was killed. What not everyone knows is that the night that they killed the lamb, there were some that could not participate because they were in charge of taking care of Jacob's bones. Those people were ritually impure and could not participate in the sacrifice to G-d. They, however, wanted to be able to serve also and thought it wasn't fair that they missed out. G-d agreed to give them a second chance. Thirty days later is Pesach Sheni, the second (or little) Passover. Though there are traditions that come with the holiday, like eating matzah, but Pesach Sheni has so much more meaning than the few traditions that accompany it. Pesach Sheni comes with an amazing and inspiring message of hope and second chances. The idea is that no matter what you have done in your life, there is always the chance to change and to come back to Hashem. The idea of second chances and repentance is a common and recurring theme in Judaism. G-d forgives. All that matters is that you come back to G-d. I have to admit that I was overwhelmed with work on Pesach Sheni and didn't even think about it. However, I had a hankering for matzah (and my daughter did too) so we ate it with dinner. It was during my Hebrew class a little bit later when I said, "אני אוכלת מצה" or, in English, "I am eating matzah" that my teacher GZ reminded me that it was the holiday. Only in Judaism is there an entire holiday dedicated to second chances to get right with G-d. What a G-d we have! |
| So many things have hit my heart this past weekend. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made me think about my responsibilities to G-d because I love him. I didn't go to shul because I needed to find the missing spark of life and see the world as more than just a dark place. I won't lie, there is still a darkness that wasn't there before, and I don't know when that darkness will become hidden again by the overwhelming presence of light. However, there are so many lessons that I learned over the past year that took root in my heart this weekend and reinforced that this journey of converting to Judaism is anchored in the desire to follow the will of G-d. Sometimes it take a culmination of multiple lessons to bring one out of darkness and back into the light. On my way to work Friday, I ran over a bird in the middle of the road. I thought it was dead when I ran over it, because it just sat there without moving. However, when I looked into my rearview mirror, I saw it hopping to the side of the road. It was alive when I ran it over, and it lived after my car passed over its head. I thought about a part of lesson that one of the rabbi's had taught that G-d took care of every bird, knew the number of feathers it had and lost, and knew the very moment that bird would die. I have always had a sense of comfort by birds and felt that a bird close to me was G-d's way of telling me that he will take of me. I have definitely been run over with grief these past couple of weeks, and every moment G-d has been there to take care of me. I have no doubts that he will continue in every aspect of my life. I ran over a snake slithering across the road on my way home (there is always a lot of wildlife where I live so this is actually a normal day). I was afraid for a moment that my back tire would have gotten part of its body or head, but when I looked in my rearview mirror, and it was raising it head to bite (I assume my car). The part of a prayer (from Tehillim 91) for bedtime that says, "He will command his angles for you, to protect you in all your ways. They will carry you on palms, lest you strike your foot against a stone. You will tread upon the lion and the viper; you will trample the young lion and the serpent. For he has yearned for me and I will deliver him." I felt safe and protected, and not just because I was in a metal car. As I held that baby girl in my arms and watched the big sister of the baby, whose 2nd birthday party I was attending, run around and play, I felt the potential of light shining through this darkness that overwhelmed my view of the world. It reminded me of the Jewish philosophy that you were born at a specific moment in time because G-d thought the world would not be complete without you. I have lost three people to suicide in the past 6 years. But instead of focusing on the loss, while I held that smiling, slobbering, baby, I thought I about the light that those three people gave the world the time I did have with them. I could feel the love and the light they shared, and it was still there inside me. Then a friend's voice came to mind and what he told me about honoring those who have passed by doing a good deed for them since they can't do it themselves anymore. Though he is not Jewish, his words of comfort resonated a Jewish idea of doing a mitzvah (good deed) to elevate the soul of a loved one who had passed. Then I had come to mind the quote, "When the world is at it's darkest, we must shine our light even brighter." I was able to light candles, which was the last of my tears for Shabbat. I easily prayed the Shabbat service. I easily said the Wayfarer's prayer (Tefilat Haderech) as I drove to my cousin's. I prayed for the counting of the Omer. Then, I fell asleep during the bedtime prayer, but it was after 1am, so I think I get a little grace on that one. Prayers this morning were easy and fulfilling. I'm happy that I can pray again without breaking down and pray with purpose. I know my world will get bright again, and I will continue to let G-d show his light through me as long as I have breath. Thank you G-d for everything. I love you. |
| I finally updated my wall calendar last night. It was not happening the past two weeks. I need to add a couple things to it, and there is one week that I didn't write down the candle lighting and end of Shabbat times. I don't remember them and would have to look them up. It doesn't seem necessary. I've been able to start listening to The Ark videos again. I have been able to pray part of the bedtime prayer. I start crying and fall asleep before completing past the Shema. I can make it through the morning blessings again in Hebrew. On my way to work, I have decided to read the Wayfarer's Prayer in Hebrew. I have had to look it up anyway, so if I'm going to be reading it, I might as well do it with a more powerful language. Crying during that prayer is normal. I always do. I wonder when I will be able to pray and just talk to G-d without crying out in pain to him. The world still feels so dark. Everything feels dark. Even the way the light shines on the leaves of the trees outside my window is different, darker. I miss the feeling of the room as I pray and I can feel G-d's presence and attention to my words, and his patience as I read slowly in Hebrew, and his happiness as I add my own words of love for him and then keep going, I miss his presence so full of light and warmth and hope. I know that G-d is still with me and comforting me when I need it. He reminds me of the little things that bring hope just enough to keep going and make it through the day. He continues to show me that my conversion journey is not over. I said a brucha over a bagel while at my desk at work and heard a voice in my ear say, "You should have washed your hands first." I laughed and said, "Yes, I should have." I don't think any students heard me talking to myself, but it made me feel a bit more like myself. I'm looking forward to the day when my prayer are again full of substance instead of my cry, "I need you my king." |
| My heart is broken. Functioning this past week as almost impossible. I didn't talk to some people I loved, because I couldn't. I didn't attend some Hebrew classes, because I couldn't. I know what Judaism believes about death, but I spend days researching it anyway. I never expected grief to be a subject of one of my conversion entries, but Hashem has his own road map of my life. I had a friend who died by gunshot wound last week. His story was in the papers. He was a teacher that I had gone to college with, tutored with in college, and worked at the same school with (both of our first teaching jobs). I had gone to college with his mother, his wife, and his brother. I remember him proposing to his wife. His smile was contagious, and he was willing to help anyone and gave his all to teaching others. He was a bright light that lit the fires of so many others. He was also a light to me. Grief has rules in Judaism. You are permitted to grieve for a week, then again in 30 days, a year, and every anniversary of their death. This is how the grieving process has gone for me. Day 1 was shock. I was added to a group chat of college classmates with the same reaction of shock. Day 2 shock and sadness and watched as the group chat talked good things about him, because he was all good. I started having private conversations with Hashem during my prayers. I never made it through any of them. Day 3 I could not function. I went to work and informed a college who went to college with me and the person who died. Then, I broke. I put a blooket game on for students for them to play on material that we hadn't even covered yet just for something for them to do and still feel as though I was contributing to their learning or exposure of content. I cried repeatedly without the ability to stop. I called the school social worker and broke down in front of her. I have no idea how I conducted class after class. Even though I was there, I wasn't there. It was teacher appreciation week, and the lunch that was delivered was full of dairy and meat mixed. I gave mine away. I messaged my American Rabbi. I just wanted to get through the day. His response helped me to do that. I went home and went to bed. I never made it through a prayer all day. I tried, but the name of G-d, Adonai, Hashem, or any name for G-d made me stop and cry. My heart ached too much. I couldn't pray. My heart just called out to G-d in pain. In bed, while crying, I talked with my Hebrew tutor, GZ, on the phone. I talked with my prayer tutor, L, on the phone. Somehow, I slept. Day 4 I cried out of the blue. I made plans with classmates to meet them at the funeral home for the showing. I had a responsibility to be there for his wife, his mother, and his brother. I taught content somehow between my breakdowns. The teacher appreciation lunch that was delivered had ham and cheese. I didn't eat. I made challah dough. A double batch. It rose a little long and I had a small mess to clean up. I checked in with multiple people this day: the school councilor, GZ, L, and messaged all my children to tell them I loved them. Again, praying was hard. I didn't make it through a prayer. My heart was still crying out in pain to Hashem. Day 5 I took a half day so I could get in a short nap before driving across the state to make it to the funeral home. I taught content again during the hours I was there between my breakdowns. When I walked out of class in tears, the kids worried. I don't remember the teacher appreciation lunch or if I ate anything. I don't remember the drive to the funeral home. I stood in the funeral home outside the entrance and watched the video of my friend. In every picture throughout his childhood and adulthood, he had a big amazing smile on his face. I stood there for an hour. A friend showed up from college and walked in first. I somehow followed. I couldn't look at the open casket. It wasn't my friend. He was gone. I made his wife laugh, I hugged her tightly a couple times. I held his mother and father's hands. When his mother spoke, that's when I was informed, suicide. He died by suicide. I continued through the line hugging his sister and making his brother laugh. I was numb and broken. I can't imagine how they felt. I walked to a pizza place with my friend and his wife, caught up, and somehow drove home. I checked in with the same people and two of my daughters. I made it through the traveler's prayer in English on my way to work. That was the only prayer I made it through. I just held my siddur and kissed it, both in the morning and at night. Again, I couldn't get any words to come from my lips. My heart spoke to Hashem. Day 6 I functioned most of the day at school and only broke down during class a few times. I have no idea what I did this day, but I remember that there was cheese pizza at lunch. My boss talked to me in the lunch room about the reference letter he sent. I hadn't looked at it yet. He said he hoped it helped, but at the same time that it doesn't. I knew what he meant. I made up a Hebrew class I missed, I think, or did I make my classes? I don't even remember. At crochet club, we played a card game. I watched everyone else laugh. If I laughed, I I don't remember. There was no joy in anything. I shared with my coworker what was going on before going home. I baked challah because it was Thursday. I have no idea how I did it. I made 8 loaves and a couple dozen rolls. I spent time researching death on Chabad. I attended a few Hebrew classes, and I private tutored a student in another state over Zoom at no charge. I chatted with random people about random things. I tried to attend a class with a Rabbi. I cried. A lot. I realized that I hadn't said Modeh Ani when I woke. I said it while saying part of the morning blessings. That is all I made it through. Day 7 I tried to be okay. I still cried, but I was able to answer questions of students. I thought that the 7 day mourning rule was stupid. I cried without warning and had no control over the strength or length of my tears. My students ate bread every hour. Not a single person made a mess. How did 150 kids eat bread in my classroom and not make a mess? I taught a lesson and kids listened. I made it through the traveler's prayer in Hebrew. I said the Modeh Ani when I woke. I said the blessings and tried to make it through more prayer, but couldn't. After work, I packed a suitcase and headed to my daughter D house. She and her husband drove me down to a hotel within walking distance of my shul. I cried multiple times, but I said the traveler's prayer again in Hebrew. I didn't make it though anything else. Day 8 I walked to shul. I tried to be okay. I put on make up (which broke Shabbat) so I wouldn't cry. My son-in-law pushed the elevator buttons for me. I wondered if I should have even been in an elevator. I caught myself every time I broke Shabbat. I shouldn't have pushed that button, or that button. I shouldn't have used my cell phone as an alarm. I shouldn't have used the GPS to make it until I knew where I was. I shouldn't have turned off my phone. I couldn't pray at shul though I tried. I couldn't follow along with the Torah or the Rabbi's message. I've never left shul having no idea what the message was about. I kept crying and tried hard to hold it in. It didn't work, and everyone was concerned. I was given a wad of tissues. I didn't want to tell anyone what happened, because it was Shabbat. Being sad is not permitted on Shabbat. I took an invitation (actually 2 separate ones by the same family) to go to lunch. I was thankful they asked, so I didn't have to go downstairs and cry in front of a large amount of people. It felt as though part of the light of Shabbat was missing. Part of the light of the sun was missing. Part of the light of my soul was missing. Two small babies (and their parents) joined us for lunch. I couldn't react much with the babies, but I watched them. I tried to feel their smiles and enjoy their giggles and noises. My soul felt as though there was a hole in it. They were a nice distraction and small spark of light. All I could think was that they were alive. That was all that mattered. Those two babies were alive. I went back to the hotel to take a nap. I slept through Women's Tehillim. I went to the lobby and read for two hours making it through 10 chapters. I ate delivery and went back to bed. Day 9 It's mother's day. I said the Modeh Ani after my shower. I said my morning blessings and prayers. It took over an hour and three breaks, but I did it. I had a wonderful afternoon with my children and a friend. I listened to friendly council, ate good food, and went to stores to shop. I bought a bottle of water. I functioned all day. I attended three Hebrew classes and smiled and laughed at my mistakes. Multiple people from shul reached out to me. I told them what happened. I apologized for crying on Shabbat and thanked them for caring. Never this week did I feel alone. I was never alone. Hashem was with me and made sure there was someone every moment of the day to let me know that Hashem loves me. I still think the 7 day mourning rule is stupid because it is not possible to shut off mourning. However, I can function now. I can pray now, even though my heart cries out to G-d in pain throughout the day. I still feel an overwhelming sense of darkness and imbalance between good and bad in the world. I still feel a light missing from my soul that was there before. My sense of hope is 100% faith and no feeling. I'm still broken. I will try to pray before bed. Even if it is just a paragraph. |
| I have been feeling quite worn out, but still feeling like I could be doing more and spend more time studying, learning, and feeling like I'm not making any progress. Feeling stuck is hard. I decided to make sure I recorded more of what I do on my calendar this past month. After just what I recorded, I feel a bit better. There is no way I can do more than what I am currently doing. Sometimes a step back and gaining perspective really helps. Key to the picture: Green - Green is dedicated to all videos I watch through the Ark online, Zoom classes with any Rabbi (including the ones at my shul) Purple - Purple is all of my Hebrew classes with GZ Blue - Torah readings of the week and Jewish holidays Red - Candle lighting times and Havdalah times (beginning and ending of Shabbat) Black - days of the week for both secular and Jewish calendars as well as the month(s) in the secular and Jewish calendars. What this does not include: Work schedule (till 4 or 5 every day) Lesson planning Working on my other businesses Driving to shul and back Time with friends and family Videos watched on YouTube Articles and books read Time studying In the photo: The fabric bracelet is a bracelet from the Nova Festival where hundreds of people were murdered The quote is just a really good quote.  |
| Pesach was unforgettable. I didn't eat anything made of flour except kosher for Passover matzah. Actually, the only thing I ate was matzah, vegetables and fruit when I was home. Not knowing how to prepare, not having a kosher kitchen, and still wanting to observe as much as I could left me little food options. I honestly say that I never went hungry though. Matzah is very filling and I'm a good enough cook that I can make food with fruit and vegetables and still not eat the same thing every day. Well, except matzah. It was a good experience and I have a better understanding of what I need to do for next year to prepare better. I did not go to shul this past weekend because of traveling to take care of my dad. I did not pout about it this time though. I did imagine the sight of the Torah scroll being removed from the ark and carried around the room. I heard the voices of the singing as it was returned. I smiled at hearing the Torah read in my mind. I may may have been alone on Shabbat, but I certainly did not feel alone. Familiar voices, faces, and glowing spirits were there with me in my heart as I prayed. Since I normally drive to break Shabbat, I had to do it another way, so I finished cooking dinner after candle lighting Friday night. Then I answered a phone call on Saturday. I stayed after work to volunteer to work a middle school activity night, so cooking late was an easy way to break Shabbat. I was offered pizza while I was volunteering, but I turned it down because of Pesach. If anyone ever questions if I am serious about conversion, the fact that I turned down pizza to eat matzah is enough to show how serious I am. I mean, it's pizza. When I went to my dad's, I took my own food so I could still keep Pesach. My dad liked the food I cooked and even liked the matzah. I left him a box. I was nice that he didn't yell at me for a day about my conversion, though he did voice his concern, again. Small victories. I had a couple of students tell me that they had never tasted matzah before, so today I brought in my two extra boxes. My students at almost both boxes. It was nice watching them break a piece and share it with others. Not nice for the janitor who had to clean up all the crumbs, but brownies will make him forget the mess. I hope. My students and other staff have mentioned about me leaving next year. The word has spread quite quickly. A staff member did her best to make me feel bad, which I did, about leaving and not being here next year to teach her son. Her walking away to cry out of sight was what got me the most. I'm not just leaving a job, I'm leaving people's lives and futures. Mixed with these feelings of sadness for this time next year is reflection on the past year. It was during the counting of the Omer that I met my American Rabbi. It's been over year on the secular calendar and a full year of holidays that I have studied. It have only been a year that I have studying with a Rabbi, but it has taken a lifetime to get me to this moment. I can honestly say that I am not the same person that I was a year ago, and I never want to go back. |
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