Mikveh and Naming

Today was a bit of an adventure. I drove out to Portage Glacier to scout out a mikveh site. I tried talking to the ranger at the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center, but she didn't know much about swimming in the area. Well, other than the water is cold and that the lake is 35 degrees. She was also good at pointing out the creek on the map, but couldn't tell me where it's deep. I thanked her for the map and set off for some scouting.  

I decided that it would be pretty cool to be near Explorer Glacier and the map said there might be beaver activity there. Where there are beavers there are often deeper areas in creeks, so I headed that way. I made a slightly wrong turn that turned out to be a great place. I think it's the old Beaver Pond Campground; it looked like it had been a bit developed at one time. They closed that campground a few years ago, so that would make sense. I found a spot where the creek looked about waist deep and it was a beautiful place, so I hid a geocache. Then I realized that the snow cavity I was looking at was the remains of an avalanche and not Explorer Glacier, so I drove on to find the Explorer Glacier outlook point.  

The Explorer Glacier area was perfect. The water was blue in the way only glacial water can be. I also noticed that the water was shallow for about a meter out and then there was a steep drop off. Exactly what I was looking for. So long as there were no people in the area, that would be the place. I would have moved my geocache to my mikveh, but there was already one nearby.  

Now just to wait for my friend who doubled as my witness. A family was throwing rocks into the creek right at my chosen spot. They left a few minutes later, so it was time. As I took off my clothes, I thought that this might not be such a good idea. The ambient temperature was 53 degrees, and it was very chilly against my skin. I was not looking forward to getting wet on top of that.  

I stepped into the water. At about my knees, I wanted to leave, but my friend encouraged me to push on. It was a bit easier after I laughed at my dog, who was trying to follow me into the water. We had to tell her to stay, because she can't be Jewish. I got about waist deep, and I was too cold for comfort. My friend again encouraged me, and I dunked under. I popped up, and believe me, I knew I was alive. I was very cold, and I said the first blessing as fast as I could. My friend said I looked scared, but I think it was a purely physiological reaction. My body was not interested in staying in that water, but my brain knew I had two more dunks and another blessing. I did them, and by the time I was done, it wasn't so bad. I felt peaceful, rather than cold. I can't promise that was a spiritual experience and not a physiological reaction, but it was nice.  

I had a hard time putting my clothes back on. I had forgotten my towel, so I had to wiggle into them still soaking wet. When I got to my car, I used my t-shirt to wipe off excess water and put on my raincoat to keep the water off my car seat. Then I drove back to the Visitor Center, got dry, and changed my clothes. Then I drove back to Anchorage.  

My friend hosted a Shabbat dinner; the food was wonderful. It felt nice to be around Jewish people and hear the blessings for the first time as a Jew. My friend tried to get me to light the candles, but I didn't know the melody for the blessing, so I asked not to.

After dinner I had to run to the synagogue for services. I had already told my Rabbi that I would be there, so he was planning to do my naming ceremony. I couldn't miss that. He surprised me and had me light the candles at the beginning of the service as well. I almost laughed, but I did it. I just recited the blessing and just about biffed it. I almost forgot l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat.  

Toward the end of the service, my Rabbi called me up to the bimah. He brought out the Torah and read a passage about how the Torah is the Jews' greatest treasure. Then he handed the scroll to me and asked me to say the Sh'ma. I asked him if I should sing it or if I should recite it, and he told me I could choose. I sang it, because it didn't seem right to say it. Then he said that I have been known by the name my family gave me, and I will always be that person, but I will also be known by my Hebrew name, Miriam Tzipora.  

It was a good day.

Your People will be My People; Your G-d will be My G-d

I'm Jewish now. I finished with the Beit Din an hour ago. I go to mikveh on Friday. I don't feel much different. It's kind of like the difference between Friday and Shabbat; almost imperceptible, but significant only because I've made it so.

Pesach

Well, I just made another huge Judaica order, most of it things for Passover. I got a seder plate (with six tiny bowls) and a Miriam's cup. I also got a wine bottle cork and some things to donate to the congregation upon my conversion.  I'm excited about them, even though I probably won't host a seder this year.

What will happen is that my mother will join me at the community seder. That ought to be interesting. She still doesn't quite get it, but I think she might get more than I give her credit for. She asked if the temple was going to have an Easter gathering, which is a silly thing, but I think she was just trying to figure out if I was going to be busy on Easter. I hope the seder goes okay.

I know my name

I will choose Miriam Tzipora.

I like that these names are associated with Moses and the stories of Exodus. I like that they appear in the parshiot that correspond with my birthday. I like that they are very clearly Biblical names, but they do not refer directly to G-d; they refer to nature. I like that they were both pretty amazing women, one a prophetess, the other the great woman behind a very special man.

I even like that they are opposites, in a few ways; Miriam had a problem with Moses's wife, who goes unnamed in that particular story, for being dark (and probably for taking up so much of his attention), so HaShem makes Miriam snow-white by afflicting her with leprosy for a week. They are also opposites in terms of background. Miriam was born an Israelite, the sister of Judaism's great leader and also of the first high priest. Tzipora, however, was not born into the tribe; she would have been a convert like me, from a different religious background (also with family ties to a high priest, being the daughter if the high priest of Midian).

I choose Miriam, partly because it is the name my mother suggested for me when I asked her. It was one of the names I asked her about and she liked the meanings behind it. She thought it fit me best. It's not completely clear what Miriam actually means.

In Egyptian, it could mean "beloved", which my mom thought was good, partly because when we watched the movie (based in the Toni Morrison novel), Beloved's mother tells her "you're my best thing", and my mom always thought the same of me.

In Hebrew, Miriam means "bitter water/sea", which almost sounds like a bad thing. But I've always loved being near the ocean, even though I don't love swimming. So a reference to water makes sense for me. To explain the bitter part, I like thinking about a Chinese idiomatic 

expression, "to eat bitter". This is how they would talk about perseverence. To me, that is very important, because that which is worthwhile is not always easy. It also seems to apply to the Biblical Miriam, because she was known for her kindness and generosity of spirit, even when she was going through difficult times personally.

That is something I asipre to and, I think, very worthy of a name.

I choose Tzipora, partly because it refers to my mother's pet name for me, in a way. Tzipora means "little bird", and as best I can tell, usually refers to a songbird. Mom liked to call my sister and I her "little chickadees". She doesn't say it about my sister as much anymore, but she still says it to me. Chickadees are very common birds in my hometown, and they used to congregate in our backyard to eat the tiny crabapples on our flowering crabapple tree. I also like Tzipora because I have always pictured her as dynamic, graceful and intuitive. Part of how I picture Tzipora is very dependent on how I perceive the relationsip between Moses and his wife, and therefore in how I understand marriage. Because Moses was clearly very special, I picture Tzipora being special, too. I think she was there to support Moses and help him find the courage to do what he needed to accimplish, whether it was dealing with his guilt after he killed the Egyptian, pulling himself together enough to confront Pharaoh, or constantly acting as a go-between with HaShem and the Israelites.She also showed that she understood what Moses taught her about HaShem and the covenants when she thought fast during the bridegroom of blood incident and saved Moses' life (or maybe Gershom's).

I think this is especially important to me and worthy of a name, because she, like myself, learned the mitzvot as an adult and took on the challenge of adapting to life with slightly new rules.

Try as I might, I couldn't decide between the two. Both names hold a great deal of meaning, both in Jewish culture and for me personally. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I would never be able to pick just one. I think it is best to take them in combination 

and hope that I can live up to them.

Another Meeting

I met with my Rabbi again today.  We talked about what I've been studying, which is pretty much just Torah.  I've been reading as many commentaries and listening to as many podcasts as  I have time for.  

Naturally, since I've been gathering so much information, I want to write a report about anything I find interesting.  I'm a nerd; I'm okay with it.  So I've been updating my Torah blog a little bit, but it's not really anything worth sharing at this point.  I wouldn't even call it up to date, since my recent pattern is to post the week's parsha on Saturday evening.  Still, I think it's slightly valuable as a type of dialectical journal.  If I manage to keep up with it, it will be interesting to compare what I wrote this year to what I write next year.  The few entries that I wrote last year are very different to what I put up recently for the same parsha.

My rabbi thinks that it's good that I'm joining the commentary conversation.  He seems to think that when students realize that they can write their own midrash or insert themselves into the characters, they learn more.  I'm not sure if it's because we become more eager to study when the element of creativity is added, or if it's because it just becomes more personal, but I would tend to agree with that.

We talked a little bit about this week's parsha, about the commentary sources I've been using, and about whether it's valuable to read (or listen to) commentary that brings up an interesting idea, but is factually incorrect.  I think we slightly disagree on the last one.  I think that as long as you know where the facts fail, it's possible to learn a moral or philosophical lesson; my Rabbi is a bit leery on that idea.  But if I understand his logic, it's mostly because that would mean that the moral or philosophical lesson was not meant to be taught by that parsha, so you're focusing on something that's not entirely relevant.  In my experience, this seems to happen most on commentaries from a specific point of view (social justice, feminism, ecology, etc.).  We agree that commentary with failed logic is awful and not worth one's time.

At the end, we also talked about the actual conversion.  The Beit Din will almost certainly be on Shavuot, either the first day or the second.  He said that I should not have any problems getting through that part, since it will be all oral questions and I do well expressing myself in our conversations.  My official conversion certificate will bear the Beit Din date.  Then comes the mikveh.  There are still a few unresolved questions here.  He's not sure how many witnesses I might need.  I have already chosen one attendant, and he thinks she is a good choice and can help me with the blessings.  We're just not sure if I'll need more to say that they were there and I most certainly dunked.  The last question is the not-so-small matter of where.  This shouldn't be too awful much of a problem anymore, since there is no time limit.  It just has to happen after the Beit Din.  I'll get another certificate saying that I immersed on whatever date.  During some Friday night service after that, I'll be introduced to the congregation, given my Hebrew name, and given the Torah.  I'll recite the Shema, and that will be that.  I'll be a real, full-fledged Jew.

I have a date

At our meeting yesterday, my rabbi and I set a date for my conversion. Well, not really a date, more of a range of dates which will hopefully work for everybody involved.

I want to do it on Shavuot. Or at least near Shavuot. We will talk about it more next month, because there are logistics to work out. Like, which creek will I mikveh in, and who will be my attendant.

I know last year they did an all night study session for Shavuot. It would be really cool to incorporate my naming ceremony in to that. Or have it after the megilla reading, maybe. We'll see.

I can't believe it.

I just got off the phone with my mom.  We were talking about holiday plans (I will always celebrate Christmas with my family and exchange gifts with my friends).

She actually asked me if the Temple will be doing a Christmas service.  Of course they wouldn't. The cool part was that she asked if there would be any holiday services, which gave me a chance to explain Chanukah a little bit. She kind of gets it.

But I still can't believe that she'd wonder whether Jews would have a Christmas service.

Shabbat

After the lovely Shabbat I had last week, I tried to set myself up for the same thing this week.  It pretty much worked.  Last week was very special, since a friend was hosting dinner.

This week I was ready again.  I had a fairly unpleasant task to do, so I saved it for the end of the day.  When I got off work, I felt accomplished.  I was ready to leave the office.  And the minute I hit that outer door, I noticed that the sun was down and was grateful that Shabbat had technically started.

I wished I was able to go straight home for candles and kiddush, but I had to run errands first.  Now that I'm settled in, it's a nice evening.  And I feel Jewish.

My mom, again

I just got off the phone with my mom. We were talking about our plans for the weekend, and I blocked off my time for Torah study and services. She mentioned that she'd talked to her pastor's wife about my studies (apparently relevant because I'm studying Hebrew, and they're studying Hebrews).

Sondra told her that one of the Rabbis in Anchorage had visited their church a while back and gave a presentation on the holidays and festivals. I don't remember this. Anyway, she wanted to know which synagogue I attend, to see if it was the same folks. I told her, even though I'm pretty sure it wasn't my Rabbi. Actually, I know it wasn't my Rabbi; she mentioned a wife. She sounded positive about the whole thing, and that makes me glad.

One of my worries is that if my mom doesn't know what to think, she'll ask Sondra (her friend and pastor's wife), and might get a more, well, fundamentalist answer than I'd like. But maybe I'm selling them all a little short. We'll see, I guess.

Shabbat rest

This past Friday night, I surprised even myself by declaring that I was ready for Shabbay rest. Maybe the others were surprised because the previous day was Thanksgiving and most people didn't have to work. Me, I was surprised because I had never said that before.

I had been ready for the weekend. I had been glad it was Friday night. But I had never been glad for Shabbat itself.

Part of it may have been because I worked hard last week. It may have been because I was sick but feeling better. It was almost certainly because I had arrived at Carrie's home for another of her wonderful Shabbat meals.

But that was one of those wonderful moments when I really felt Jewish. On the drive to Carrie's, I realized that it was dark and technically Shabbat already, and I felt more relaxed. But once those candles were lit, I really started to feel it. Rest. Shabbat rest. A real, definitive separation between worktime and holy time.

It was beautiful.

I'm not going to lie, though. I did work only hours later, cleaning up after the party had subsided. But even that had a sense of peace about it, because it seemed a part of the dinner, a part of the evening, a part of Shabbat.

I hope I feel that again this week. And the week after that. And every week.

Sharing

This past weekend, my entire family went on a camping trip.  We stayed in a cabin a few miles away from Seward, and it was incredibly beautiful.  I was glad that I had finally learned some of the blessings for experiencing the natural world.  Knowing that I'd probably forget (and I did), I decided to bring my siddur with me.

I had plenty of opportunity to say baruch atah adonai, eloheinu melach ha-olam, sheh-a-sah et ha-yam ha-gadol and baruch atah adonai eloheinu melach ha-olam, shekahcha lo baolamo and baruch atah adonai, eloheinu melach ha-olam, borei atzei v'samim.  It felt good, like a mitzvah should.

I also packed my Shabbat/Havdallah set, because I didn't feel right being away from it on Shabbat.  I wasn't sure if I'd use it, since my family is uninterested in Jewish ritual, and I didn't want to deal with an argument from my mother.  Still, something in me said to bring it.  As it happened, the cabin was very dark as day turned in to night on Friday, and everybody wished we had some candles.  

Since I had mine, I brought them out.  I explained to my mother what my ritual items were and what their symbolism was.  I silently said the bracha over the candles, and lit them.  I explained the wine and the bread to mom, as well, and she seemed fairly receptive.  I don't think she would have been as positive if I had said the blessings out loud, but, at the same time, I did not do anything that was contrary to Christianity...it was just different.

It was a good experience.  Mom still hasn't heard the word "conversion" from me, and I have not denied Christ to her yet.  Thus far, she is tolerant, but I am concerned that my Judaism would somehow disappoint her.  Her beliefs are well-intentioned and deeply held, but they are ultimately fundamentalist.

Meeting with the Rabbi

I had my meeting with the Rabbi today.  This time, I wasn't so very prepared.  I didn't feel like I'd been book-studying as much as I felt I should.  He asked me why, and I told him.  I've been enjoying my summer and going hiking and camping.  I told him about my Shabbat/havdallah set and how I always bring it with me on trips.  I told him that I've come to really appreciate Shabbat.  There have been a couple of times when I didn't light my candles for some reason, and the day just didn't feel right.  I talked about how, as I've integrated the rules for Shabbat into my practice, how the day has become such a pleasure.

I told him that I've been reading the book he lent me, and that it's really helping me to understand not only the meaning behind the words of the liturgy, but also how to let them inspire me.  The words themselves are something of a blank slate in terms of emotion, and the worshipper is free to use them to express his gratitude, fear, sadness, or even anger.  He can also use them to bring himself to a calm state.

Since I'm also working on reading another book, I told him about that one, too.  This was one of the ecology books that I'd found.  I told him who wrote it, and the group she is affiliated with.  He knew exactly who I was talking about, and was glad that I'd found it.  It was definitely a relief compared to the last conversation we had.  I talked about one of the essays I had read, about wandering and how it brings out something primal in people.  Since I've been watching a lot of The Dog Whisperer, I remembered that Cesar Millan had made a comment about what happens to dogs when they walk behind a pack leader, and how some of the points in the essay were somewhat similar to the ideas that Millan had talked about.

Naturally, this sparked some debate.  He asked me if I really believed that the Jews were following G-d around like a pack of dogs, and if that implied that we didn't really have a choice.  Of course not.  That's what makes us different from dogs.  The point was more that, in the wandering, we were forced to share a tight space, to learn how to work together for a common goal, and to accept our place in the group.  He kept poking holes in my analogy, which was fine.  It was never meant to be a perfect picture, just a way to understand a part of the story in a practical way.

We got in to talking about disagreements, and how religion can actually be a stumbling block to society.  This was at least partly because the Rabbi had been at a discussion group last night where they talked about a book that said, at least in part, that atheism might be an important key to world peace.  Which I do agree with.  I told him so, too.  I talked about how that's mentioned in the song "Imagine" more than once (Imagine there's no heaven...no hell below us...nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too).  Which, of course, leaves us....where?  What role (do I think) religion should have in society?

We talked about that for a while, actually.  I think he wanted to hear me talk about religion in a general sense, so as to figure out how much of my understanding is based on Christianity, and how much on Judaism.  I talked about how religion, when done correctly, should encourage people to live ethically, and the spirituality should be a pleasant side effect, and I did talk about how I found that in Judaism.  He talked about how this might not necessarily be true of Orthodox Judaism.  I had an answer for that one: I wasn't sitting in an Orthodox shul.  I had chosen Reform for a reason.

It was a good conversation.

Why?

A friend recently asked my why I choose to convert.  What follows was my answer to him.

I converted for a number of little tiny reasons, really.  I abandoned Christianity for a few big ones, though.  What it came down to was that I felt that the Christian community had become so fundamentalist and closed-minded that I could no longer agree with many of their teachings, and because of that disagreement, I could never fit in with that herd.  When I started studying on my own, I was drawn toward the beginning of the Bible, because I realized that I didn't actually know that much about the Jewish origins.  Most of it had been taught to me as a child, so I got a very cursory once-over of the major stories, and then the Old Testament was infrequently revisited only when necessary to prove a point.  These points were almost always exclusionary or an attempt to prove that Jesus was the Messiah.  

On my own, I learned that there was a lot of richness and wisdom that I'd never really known before.  I also discovered that Jesus hadn't really fulfilled all the prophesies.  With that, I was no longer afraid to abandon Christianity.  As far as I'm concerned, the Messiah must fulfill all the prophesies.  If a candidate does not, then he is no messiah.  Maybe Jesus was the son of God and all that, and maybe he is going to come back.  Maybe he'll be the Messiah then, when he finishes the job.  I don't know.  What I do believe is that the God of Judaism is similar to the God of Christianity.  I think that sometimes Jesus gets in the way of God.  I don't really know if I think of Jesus as a second god, a facet of God, or an idol.  I haven't figured that out yet.

What I do know is that I started noticing more references to Judaism within things that I liked.  I was interested in Biblical Archaeology, and the parts that I was really interested in were Hebrew Bible stories.  My favorite TV show happened to have a Jewish host.  A song that I liked was inspired by a Jewish story.  Eventually, I contacted a Rabbi and started studying with him, because there was only so much that I could teach myself.

Service 6-21-2008

My first Bar Mitzvah ritual.  It was really very beautiful.  I loved how it emphasized and continually reinforced his new role as a member of Jewish society.  The Aliyot started with his peers, and went to various family members, gradually getting closer to the Bar Mitzvah boy, until eventually his parents were called to the bimah on the sixth aliyah, and the Bar Mitzvah took the seventh and final.

It was amazing to watch how proud of him his parents were.  I loved that he made a couple of mistakes, but corrected himself pretty confidently.  That takes guts and maturity, which are qualities adults definitely need.  It was clear that he did a lot of studying and preparation, which are absolutely vital to adult life.  He did very well.  I'd be terrified to do what he did, even though I think that I want to.

I was also struck by the speeches his parents gave about him.  His father talked about how he's always been a very determined person, and reminded him that it will take him far in life.  His mother talked about the idea of tikkun olam and always keeping the goal of making the world a better place, reminding him that it was not only a Jewish value, but a family value as well.

These things reminded me of well, firstly, that I don't know how my parents would react at my Bat Mitzvah (if I have one).  But that's mostly because of the Jewish label.  If they just talked about who I was, and who I am, they would be likely to talk about how I've always been pretty driven, but I've always held the same values that I find in Judaism.

In fact, I've recently realized that my years as a Girl Scout have very much shaped how I live as an adult, and I don't just mean my love for hiking and cookies.  The Girl Scout Law that my mother taught me as a little girl is still pretty paramount.  It's also a good way to ensure tikkun olam, I think:

• -to be honest
  
• -to be fair
  
• -to help where I am needed
  
• -to be cheerful
  
• -to be friendly and considerate
  
• -to be a sister to every Girl Scout
  
• -to respect authority
  
• -to use resources wisely
  
• -to protect and improve the world around me
  
• -to show respect for myself and others through my words and actions

That's really all I want out of life.  Well, that and a religion I can put my faith in, and that gives me the framework to base my choices on.  A girl can't live by "be prepared" alone.

Meeting with the Rabbi

I met with the Rabbi today, for my consultation in lieu of classes.  We talked about the progress I was making with the Hebrew.  I think he thinks I'm learning quickly.  He gave me a chance to ask any questions that I had, and I didn't have too many yet.  There were some words in the book that I was working with that I didn't think I was reading correctly, so he helped me out.  The words didn't sound like Hebrew in my mouth.  One of my mistakes was that I had confused two letters.  You're never going to say the word correctly if you have the wrong letters.  So that was an easy fix, really.  I didn't know how to pronounce a particular vowel combination, so he helped me with that.  He also showed me an ending that was going to mess me up pretty good, because it involved a silent letter that wouldn't usually be silent.

Then we talked about why I'm interested in Judaism and its relationship to ecology.  I think he was scared that I was going too new age with it.  Its not that at all, really.  I think that some of the people who write about that area are doing it with a new agey perspective, but those ideas aren't intriguing in a satisfying way.  I mean, it's great to consider the patience of a rock, but ultimately, the imagery fails because patience requires free will or at least some kind of choice.  The Rabbi suggested that I try looking at a few scholars he was aware of, and I promised that I would.

For me, the nexus of G-d and nature is valuable.  I think that nature forces you to be in the moment.  When you appreciate the beauty of the mountains around you, your mind is drawn to the Creator of those mountains; in that moment that takes your breath away, you find G-d.  You need to have that same sense of awe when you light the shabbat candles.  When you're hiking, you're looking out for bears that might eat you and roots you might trip on.  You're not thinking about your laundry or your bills.  This is the same mindset you should have when you pray or study Torah.

Since I know a lot more about nature than I do about G-d, it seems like a good way in.  A way to teach my mind to focus on G-d and push the distractions to the side.  Surely there have been writers, in the past 5000 or so years who have written things that can help me with that.  I just wish that I had been better able to explain all of this to the Rabbi.  I got about halfway there.  When I leave his office, I always think of that genius thing I should have said, because I walk away thinking about the questions he asked and why I was unsatisfied with my own answers.

Service 5-31-2008

The big thing that I learned today was mostly about myself.  I learned that I can follow along with the Hebrew now!  I couldn't have kept up with everybody else if I hadn't been pretty familiar with the prayers and liturgy already, but I wasn't a slave to the transliteration, and I feel proud of that.

The moment that I'm most proud of had nothing to do with the actual service.  There was a woman who was wearing a tallit that had Hebrew text on it that didn't have any vowels on it, and I still managed to read that it said "Jerusalem".  I haven't been that excited to read a single word since I was about three years old.

I'm very glad that I've been studying.  Even though I'm a complete nerd and would have wanted to learn the Hebrew anyway, I had no idea how rewarding it would actually be for me.  Language is a big part of culture, and now that I'm starting to make the language part of the way that I think, I'm really starting to feel like I belong.  I've said it before, but it's very true.  I felt much less like an outsider and more like a participant today.

Blog Link: Paying Attention to Detail

From Radical Torah: Paying Attention to Detail

I'm at a point in my studies in which my Rabbi is allowing me to direct my own curriculum, for the most part.  At the moment, we're focusing on learning to read and understand Hebrew, and liturgy.

So I've been reading a lot of blogs lately, trying to find out what other Jews are talking about on the topic of prayer and ritual (its also much less dry than reading the siddur).  I liked this article, because it explains one of my biggest questions right now: why is Judaism so darned complicated?

And I love its basic answer: so one must continue learning.

This article is focused on the brachot related to eating various types of foods, but that simple premise applies to much of Judaism, I think.

Shopping Spree

I finally bought myself ritual items. Finally. I didn't feel ready before, I guess.
I ordered some shabbat candlesticks. They're travel-sized, so they're easy to put away.
I bought a kiddush cup that sort-of matches them.
I also bought a havdalah set. I think it's really clever. It was designed for travel, I guess, so it all fits together into one unit for simple storage when it's not in use. But the most clever thing, I think, is that it doubles as a shabbat set. The spice box, when flipped over, holds two candles.

It will be nice to celebrate properly, with hiddur mitzvah, rather than just making do. I know that my Judaica won't be the most beautiful in the world, but it's a start. The milestone is that they are mine now, that I'm finally taking ownership of shabbat.

A bunch of books are also headed my way. The first of them arrived today, my books on learning Hebrew. I also ordered a couple books on Judaism and environmental stewardship, as well as siddurim for both the Reform and Conservative movements. I'm really excited about studying and learning these things. I can't wait until I don't have to flip through the prayerbook to find the transliteration!

I call myself Jewish

I identified myself as a Jew for the first time. It was at work, because I needed to leave early in order to attend a meeting with the rabbi for my conversion.
I probably could have just said that I had an appointment, but I asked for a religious accommodation instead.

I've been studying for about six months now, and it feels like time to finally stop being between religions.

I recognize that I don't know enough yet. I've finally gotten though all the major holidays, so now I'm in charge of my curriculum. My rabbi and I have decided that it would be good for me to learn Hebrew, at least at a prayerbook level, and study the liturgy. I want to understand the prayers that we say during the services and have them mean something to me while I say them. After I get though that, we'll move on to the connection between Judaism and the natural world and tikkun olam.

Decorations

My mom noticed that I didn't have any decorations around my apartment this year.

Usually, I do just a little something.

Mom's really into crafting, and so our family typically has a lot of handmade decorations all over everywhere at Christmastime.  She always puts up a tree that is completely covered in angels and other handmade ornaments.  I made some of them as a child; there are a lot of ornaments where we have two on the tree.  One is the one that mom made, and the other is the one that I did.  Until I turned about 12, mine are definitely a little sloppier than mom's, but she loves them anyway.  

Mom loves Christmas decorations so much that she started collecting angels.  At first, it was a Christmastime-only collection, but now she keeps some of them up all year.  She also has a crèche on display year-round. 

 So, obviously, she was going to notice that my place doesn't look very festive.  In typical mom fashion, she brought me some decorations that she had stored for me, and put them up.  I now have a string of quilted mittens at my fireplace, and a stocking hung by the chimney (with care).

Mom means the best with all of this.  She's trying to do things that she thinks will make me happy, and remind me of the beautiful things at a time of year where it can be pretty cold and bleak.  And she doesn't know that I'm pretty sure that I'm going to go through with the conversion; she still believes that I'm simply learning about Judaism.

It just goes to show that it's not going to be the easiest path.  I'll probably never be able to be completely traditional in my observances.  Instead, I'll have to find a balance between Judaic traditions and family traditions.  I'm sure it can be done, but it's going to take a lot of patience and understanding.