Finding Meaning on a Day to Atone

meaning

I am not a deeply religious person. I had a rather traditional upbringing, was educated at a  Jewish Day School and attended synagogue with my family on a relatively regular basis. We observed Judaism to the best of our ability, and I have brought my various experiences and beliefs along with me throughout my life. This time of year has always been a challenge for me, with so many Jewish holidays packed in together, mixed in with the changing seasons and new school year. People pass around sweet New Year’s greetings, a wish to be inscribed in the Book of Life and a hope to find meaning as we atone and start fresh again.

Every year, as I receive countless kind holiday greetings from family and friends, I always take an extra moment to think and sometimes question why I am asked to find meaning in this time of year. It seems like an abstract word to me as it can be understood in so many ways. I usually just ponder the word for a few minutes then move along with my day, but this year I can’t get the word out of my head.

How can a holiday, one day or one experience bring meaning to my life? Does it affect me in a positive or negative way? Do I have to take any specific actions in order to find meaning? Can one only find true meaning during Rosh Hashanah (The Jewish New Year) or Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) if you go to synagogue and pray?

My husband and I decided to not attend synagogue this year during the High Holidays and instead chose to stay at home with our children. We have had a challenging year. While we are headed in a positive (and I think exciting!) direction, when we had to make the decision during the summer to purchase synagogue tickets, we felt that our hearts just weren’t in it. Would we find meaning in praying among family and friends or would find that true meaning at home, with our children? The choice was easy.

Now that those two holidays are over I can reflect on the decision to stay home this year, and I don’t regret it. I have never connected on an emotional level, in a meaningful way, sitting (or standing) in a synagogue. Prayer has not come naturally to me and has not uplifted me spiritually. With the kind of year I have had, often feeling overwhelmed or deeply stressed, I knew that what was best for me – and my family – was to take some time at home.

On Tuesday afternoon I browsed through countless Facebook posts as people prepared for Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. Yom Kippur is not supposed to be enjoyable and relaxing. It is a day of denial – no food, no bathing, for example – so you can reflect and start fresh. You think about what you have done wrong, how you may have wronged people and hope for forgiveness. Some people are able to find that meaning through prayer, but again, that is not the case for me. I find meaning in my life and am able to reflect on my life by spending time by myself, in a quiet place, or by writing.

And on Wednesday I found meaning as I sat around the dining room table with my husband and children as we played a board game. She did what? On Yom Kippur she sat at home in her sweatpants and played board games? That’s right I did, and it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I spend so much of my life running around, chasing my children, balancing schedules or yelling at one person or another. Life seems to be go go go. But this year, on Yom Kippur, instead of dressing up, forcing my kids out the door and making everyone stay quiet at synagogue, we just stayed home and spent quality time together. I literally had nothing to do but be with my family, talk to them, laugh with them and enjoy their company.

And while I did not attend synagogue, I did strictly observe the rest of the Day of Atonement. I denied myself food for 25 hours, and it was definitely tough. My body is not used to fasting, and at times I felt tired and a bit unwell. But as the day wore and I had time to think about my life and the choices I make. I found meaning.

I don’t know what the next year will bring for me and my family. My children have all embarked on a new year of school, David is balancing various offers to consult on exciting projects and I am a few weeks in to a new and very demanding job.

As we move into that new year I want to say I am sorry to anyone who I may have hurt or offended this past year. I wish you all a year of success and may you find meaning in your life as well.

A Wonderland as A Tourist in My Own City

wonderland

I am going to whine a bit today. My father would refer to what I am writing about as first world problems. The company where I am now working hosted a family day at the local amusement park this weekend. This amusement park is a wonderland for children, with every kind of ride and flavour of junk food imaginable. I knew my children would love to go and a day at this place is dreamy for them. I also knew that a day at this place was my idea of a terrible nightmare. What to do? Do I tell them? Do I hide it and spend a lazy day at home? Or do I sign up and just do it.

I did it. I signed up and we went. In theory, a visit to this amusement park, Canada’s Wonderland, on a September weekend should be a bit quieter. Children are back at school and the weather is often not great. But summer just goes on and on for us this year, and my luck, it was sunny and over 30 degrees. The whole city showed up.

You know that sinking feeling when you finally rev yourself up and get excited to go somewhere and arrive to a chaotic scene? That was me when our car drove into the massive parking lot. Cars were parked from end to end, what seemed like thousands of them. We circled for a while and grabbed a great spot. I am sure that just having my son Matthew in the car guarantees me a good parking spot, but that story is for another day.

We got out of the car and immediately felt the beating hot sun on us. It was so hot outside that I could feel the sweat starting to bead on my neck and my shorts stick to my thighs in seconds. I threw hats on the kids’ heads, organized my backpack of supplies and dumped the baby in the stroller. Off we went into the park for a day at a child’s wonderland and an adult’s bad dream come alive.

The moment I walked through the park’s gate I wanted to turn around and leave. My throat was already parched. The beads of sweat had turned into a steady stream of water dripping down my neck and back. I was tired just from the walk from my car to the main entrance. My children and niece, who joined us for the day, even my husband, looked perky and excited. What did I get myself into?

Organizing the logistics for six people, all different ages and sizes, at Canada’s Wonderland, is a challenge. Matthew’s dream finally came true this year and he hit the magic number: 54. That is 54 inches tall, so that he qualifies to go on ANY ride. Julia, with shoes and puffy hair, hit another magic number: 48. That means she can go on almost any ride. Nessa, at 32 inches, is a bit more limited. I am 62 inches so it means I can go on any ride, but catch me going upside down and loop-de-loop. No way.

Every time we go to this wonderland it takes us a while to get in the groove, find our way around and do no more than stand at the entrance and yell at each other. Some want to go on a roller coaster and others want to start with a gentle ride. The baby would be happy to just run around in circles and maybe play with a cardboard box. I personally voted to run fast to the exit and head home.

We finally agreed on a simple ride that most could go on, and of course, it had broken down. So the older two headed for a roller coaster while we took the younger two girls to a gentle kiddie ride: the swans. The line didn’t seem too long on first glance, but it doesn’t move. We stood there, in the blaring hot sun with no shade in sight for about 5 minutes then had enough. Why does it take so long to strap a child into a giant swan-shaped boat?

We finally found another gentle ride for the girls with a reasonably short line and they were happy. Then we zoomed across the park to partake in a free buffet lunch. I didn’t care what the lunch was – all I cared was that it was free. A slice of pizza at this place is almost $8! And the line-ups for food? Oh my gosh. I would rather go hungry than stand in line for 30 minutes for low quality food.

After we filled ourselves with our free low-quality food, at least in a relatively cool covered area, it was back to the masses. We ate lunch in the corner of an area called Medieval Times, with castle architecture and all. But to get to the next ride we had to walk through the Oktoberfest celebrations. Imagine a huge area filled with picnic tables and hundreds of people drinking beer. At the centre of it all was a stage with a pair of middle aged men dressed in lederhosen on it, singing their version of popular music. And they were totally tone deaf. I tried my best to push through the crowds of drunk people who clearly didn’t notice the loud off-key music.

Back to the long lines for rides we went on. Have you ever noticed the very strong odor that people emit when they are crowded together in a long line on a hot day? The smell permeates everywhere and gets worse as the day goes on. I will say that at least, for the most part, the people standing in line for kiddie rides are pleasant and provide good entertainment during the long wait. They all smell bad but we smile through it all together.

wonderland
We made efficient use of seats on a ride and got all four in together

Winner of the oddest moment of the day came when I stood in line with my two-year-old for the toddler train ride. You stand in line for at least 20 minutes (this line is at least in the shade) so you can cram your adult behind into a kiddie-sized seat on a mini train and travel for 6 minutes along a slow track at 15 kilometers per hour. We all stood patiently in line with our small children until we made our way to the front. I chatted in a friendly manner with the woman ahead of me, who was in line by herself. I figured she was a smart one and was waiting in line alone while her child (or children) went on another ride. But no one had arrived when we arrived at the  front of the line.

The operator of the ride opened the gate for the woman to enter and stopped her when she clearly didn’t have a child with her. He explained that adults HAD to have a child with them in order to ride the mini train. Had to? Of course they do. Who would want to go on this ride unless they had a child with them? This woman laughed sheepishly and I was faced with a decision: do I look the other way and have him send her on her way or do I smile and invite her to join us? I invited her to join us. Yes, very strange, but she was pleasant and friendly and sang along with Nessa during our six-minute ride. We all yelled “choo choo” together.

wonderland
I survived the antique car with the two-year-old at the wheel

Since I only dare to step foot in this wonderland up to once per year, we always stay the whole day, until it’s dark and closed. The day wore on and eventually the heat subsided and the crowds thinned just a little. My eleven-year-old went on his first “adult-only” ride. The eight-year-old went on her first real roller coaster. And the baby experienced her first ever amusement park rides, long lines, sweaty people and all.

wonderland
Selfie on a swan with Matthew age 11
wonderland
Selfie on a swan in the same spot with Matthew, age 2

Once it was dark outside and the park lights were on we finally lumbered our way, with the thundering hordes, to the exit. On cue, my son announced he was hungry. A random stranger stopped us and handed us his unused food vouchers, worth $20. The park was about to close and our food selection was limited. But the Starbucks, of course, was still open and with $20 in free snacks everyone chose a treat.

After a long, hot, sweaty and hectic day at my children’s wonderland, when every muscle in my body hurt and I smelled like week-old bread, we ended on a high. There’s nothing like caffeine and sugar to perk you up, especially when it’s free. Thanks again to that friendly stranger who handed over your vouchers. You made my day.

Reflections on a First Day

first

The first for everything we experience in life is special. Sometimes it’s sensational or thrilling. And sometimes it can be scary or downright terrifying. Or maybe all of the above. The first day of spring brings with it the joy of warmth and growth. A child’s first word or first steps bring delight about the anticipation of a developing little human being. The first day of school comes with a mix of trepidation and excitement every year. The first day of a new job can be stressful, exhilarating and petrifying all at the same moment.

We experienced a few firsts this week in our family, and for sure there has been quite a mix of emotions.

Tuesday was the first day of school for many children across Canada. For my oldest two children it was the first day at the same school they have always known, but of course in the next grade. With every new school year there are changes and growth with elevated expectations for the child. There’s a new teacher, sometimes a new classroom and a few new students to meet. The child is nervous and jittery, and taking that step into the school hallway and into the classroom can be tough. My son ran away and barely waved good bye. My daughter got a bit teary-eyed as we walked away from her grade 3 classroom.

For my youngest, my baby, Nessa, it was literally her first day of school. She’s only going to preschool, but this is a huge step for such a tiny person. She has always been home with me or a caregiver, and this week represented the first time this little two-year-old went out into the world. Okay, she wasn’t walking the floor of the Stock Exchange or selling lottery tickets from a kiosk, but it was her first day out of the house, in a brand-new environment. That’s a big step for anyone, and she made it through like a champion. There were a few tears, but she perked up when she saw the baby dolls, plastic food, and so I’m told, lunch.

When Nessa’s tears began to flow at drop-off I swiftly gave her a kiss on her forehead and was out the door. She’s my third child, and I know how it goes. I remember the first time I dropped off my son at daycare when he was only 11 months old. He was my first child. I don’t know if he cried, but I did! I sobbed outside, on the steps of his daycare, feeling guilty that I had abandoned my child. By number three I sure didn’t feel this way and easily waved good bye and ran.

But I didn’t run home because on Tuesday I also experienced my first day. I didn’t go back to school but I started a new, full-time job. As I have written a number of times here in my blog, I have been on a journey the last two years to find the next steps on my career path. I established my own small business doing consulting and contract work in communications, and of course this blog. I wanted to figure out what’s best for me professionally, where I could bring value and contribute to an organization in a meaningful way.

It took me a while to figure it out and I definitely have hit some speed bumps over the last year. A few months ago I was offered a full-time position at a company where I was doing contract work, and it was the right fit. After a lot of planning, both logistically and mentally, Tuesday was my first day back at work full-time. It was an overwhelming day with more information thrown my way than I could ever absorb. But the first day turned into a second day on Wednesday. And it was much less overwhelming and much more productive and fulfilling.

So the first day is exciting and terrifying. The second day is a bit calmer and less scary. When we  get to the third, fourth, fifth day and beyond we get comfortable and confident. We will all experience many more firsts in life, and I hope they are as successful as the ones my family and I had this week.