“Sorry, Rivky, I have to daven now,” I said to my sister, and left her staring after me.

"Good Shabbos, Tzippy! I’m so glad I came today, I really gained a lot. Thank you!” I gave her a quick hug before heading home for Shalosh Seudos. Wow, and to think I nearly stayed home.

Tzippy was my class’s Bnos leader in seventh grade and we all thought she was awesome. We made her a huge party before she left for seminary and we all pledged to keep in touch.

Well, you know how these things usually go, but not this time! Tzippy would send long letters to our school, addressed to our class, and we’d send long letters back. Plus, several girls corresponded privately with her as she was a cross between big sister, adviser, and incredibly cool older friend.

Tzippy returned from seminary in June and spent the entire summer in camp, and now that she was finally home she’d offered to join our class on Shabbos afternoon. Everyone was thrilled, of course, and quite anxious to hear what she had to say. Since my cousins were visiting from Chicago, it wasn’t so simple for me to get out. But, boy, was it worth it!

Tzippy spoke about her seminary experiences, emphasizing the beauty and kedushah of Eretz Yisrael, as we listened, mesmerized. “It was really hard for me to even think of leaving that special kedushah, the special closeness to Hashem that I felt so clearly in Eretz Yisrael,” Tzippy told us. “And then I realized that I could take some of it with me. When I daven, I can recreate that closeness, that special bond to Hashem, and especially when I daven in shul, I can continue to build that close relationship to Hashem I’ve been working on. And you, girls, are so lucky! With Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur coming up, you too have the opportunity to use these special days to daven and create a closeness to Hashem.”

Walking home that’s all I could think about. I was so inspired! I, Sara Malka Fried, would not miss this opportunity. Of course, the yetzer hara tries to thwart all good intentions but I would be in shul with my machzor bright and early and I wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of my davening!

On Erev Rosh Hashanah I was sitting in the living room looking through my machzor so I’d be familiar with the tefillos when five-year-old Gavi ran in howling. “Shmueli Gross crashed right into me with his scooter and he didn’t even say sorry and I’m gushing!”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” I snapped as he performed complicated gymnastic maneuvers trying to get his knee as close as possible to my eyes. And no, it most certainly was not gushing. At such a close vantage point, however, I did notice a modest trickle of blood that, for Gavi, justified such dramatics.

“Can’t you ask someone else?” Even as I spoke I realized there was no one else around. I grabbed the Band-Aid box from the medicine chest and thrust it at him. “Wow! Thanks!” he whistled and, eyes shining, he raced back outside clutching his treasure tightly to his chest, as though worried I’d rethink my generosity.