We learned from our parents that wherever a Jew is, it’s always a good place to talk to our Father

We Sisters inherit our love for tefillah from both sides of the family.

An elderly woman who knew our father a”h as a young man, long before we were born, told us: “Nathan? All Nathan wanted to do was sit in his synagogue and pray. A shul Yid.”

Our mother a”h had a different tefillah style. Living in Eretz Yisrael in her last decades, her favorite place was Yam Hamelach. Floating in those wondrous salt waters, surrounded by the mystical mountains where David Hamelech sought shelter and perhaps wrote chapters of Tehillim, renewed her, body and soul. That was the place, she told us, where she spoke most honestly and fervently to Hashem.

Come join us Sisters as we share some of our own informal conversations with Hashem. Crying out at a moment of high stress, then thanking Him in a moment of calm. Touching the timeworn stones of the Kosel. Looking down at a Beit Shemesh street — and up to Hashem’s beautiful skies.

Because what we learned from our parents is that wherever a Jew is, it’s always a good place to talk to our Father.

Marcia talks with Hashem when she’s…

Melting Down

Ribbono Shel Olam, why are you doing this to me!!!

After seven months of barely venturing into a supermarket, the thought of passing through germ-laden airports and boarding a flying virus factory was somewhat unnerving. Still, I conquered my fears and decided to head for Florida to spend the Yamim Noraim with my kids.

As it happened, I didn’t have time for fears. I was too busy coping with a series of unfortunate events.

Thursday night before the flight. The Washington area was inundated with a mabul that overflowed roadway bridges, swept up cars in flash floods, saturated the ground… and sent water gushing into my basement. My night was spent squeegee-ing water out the back door.

Friday. In between packing, teleworking, and preparing for Shabbos, I kept toweling water that was seeping up between my recently installed floor planks. I set up a fan to help the drying process, laid out more towels, and resolved to have a peaceful Shabbos without venturing downstairs.

Sunday. The seepage was slowing, but the fan wasn’t doing the trick. My new flooring was supposedly waterproof, but I shuddered at what might be happening underneath. So I borrowed a huge blower to speed the drying. Crisis averted. But then…

An upsetting phone call: A friend tested positive for COVID-19. I might have been exposed. Most of the day was spent calling rabbis, doctors, and my kids to determine if I’d actually been exposed... finding out where to get tested quickly... wondering if I’d have to cancel the trip and spend Yom Tov sick and alone... finally getting the rapid test result call. Baruch Hashem: negative. Second crisis averted.

Monday morning, an hour before leaving. I prepared lunch and supper for the trip and was about to resume final packing. I peeked downstairs for one last check...