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Calligraphy
It was Abba who’d told her to follow her heart. If it was kosher, if this is where she came alive, she should go for it

By Rivka Streicher

Calligraphy
And here I was. The start of a new journey, the kind that searched for answers that didn’t exist but that you had to seek out, anyway

By Rikki Ehrlich

Calligraphy
Something happened. We need my in-laws, we need them. Goodness knows my parents won’t be of any help when it comes to a crisis

By Rochel Samet

Calligraphy
There hadn’t been much time to decide and even though Phyllis Lang wasn’t a spontaneous sort of person, the prospect of being quarantined in her apartment made this seem exciting

By Dov Haller

Calligraphy
“You don’t even know what’s involved in all that. What it takes to make it happen. Because you’re never here,” she said

By Zivia Reischer

Calligraphy
My bag has a Bais Yaakov Convention key chain on it, a gift from my older sister. And my best friend is walking next to me, wearing blue jeans

By Ariella Schiller

Calligraphy
There were some perks to having a husband who was hearing impaired. I could slam doors without arousing suspicion

By Chanie Spira

Knowing and Growing
Why real simchah in avodah is so elusive for most of us

By Rabbi Reuven Leuchter

Step 1
Today they’re household names, but it started with a leap of faith: “When you’re able to give them words for their pain and help them heal, you’re fulfilling the mitzvah of hashav ...

By Dr. David Pelcovitz

Step 1
Today they’re household names, but it started with a leap of faith: “I wanted to be an artist, but not a starving one. Could I pursue my creative dreams, while fulfilling my respo ...

By Rabbi Yonah Weinrib

Step 1
Today they’re household names, but it started with a leap of faith: "Rabbi Noach Weinberg was always excited about using technology for kiruv, and he wanted to make this happen"

By Rabbi Shraga Simmons

Slices of Life
It became our place to get away from Brooklyn on summer Sundays and the occasional weeknight

By Barbara Bensoussan

Slices of Life
Mrs. Drukatz’s pudding was not mere pudding; it held a story

By C.S. Teitelbaum