That first night, in the strange and hostile FFB world, I cried myself to sleep

I used to be a regular girl. I wore the right clothes, had the right kind of family, and was accepted by society. I wore my brown uniform to school along with the rest of the country and proudly pledged my allegiance to the one-and-only Lenin.

Then we came to America. My clothes were hand-me-downs, and they were all wrong. My parents got divorced. And I spoke the wrong language at home.

It was then that I discovered the world of kiruv rechokim. It was a beautiful world. It healed the pain of my parents’ divorce, made my clothing seem OK. I met so many new friends. I was 13, naive, but not stupid. I knew what my heart wanted, and I went after it, full force. I started to learn Torah, to daven, and fell in love with the way of life of the wonderful frum counselors at camp.

Camp was a small piece of Heaven. There, they didn’t let anyone slip through the cracks. Each girl had a team teaching, encouraging, and cheering her on. Every Shabbos was a day of joy.

After camp, I made the rounds to all my counselors’ and frum friends’ families for Shabbos. These families were kind and giving. Each had a row of perfect children, beautifully set Shabbos tables, and the most incredible food. I remember thinking that if I made the choice to become frum, my life was going to be just like theirs: perfect and peaceful. Looking at my broken family and unhappy life, this seemed the best way out of my misery.