I've come a long way, baby!

The amount of time spent in synagogue on Rosh Hashana is about as much as we spend eating! All that time spent in quiet prayer, may afford one the opportunity for mind-wandering deep thoughts.

So this is what I thought about as I listened to one of the many (thankfully inspiring) chazzons (cantors) in synagogue this year:

Who woulda thunk? How'd I get here? It's all so very surreal.

My memories of R"H (my abbreviation for Rosh Hashana) as a kid include hours spent hanging-out outside the synagogue with Jamie, Steve and Evan at the Maryland School for the Deaf auditorium, where our high holiday services were held in Frederick. I remember the dread of having to sit through services every year and sneaking outside as much as I could. Somehow, though, I was always drawn back in. The tunes I hear in daavening (prayer) today are very similar to the ones I remember Rabbi Kosman using. They stir in me the warm and comforting memories of years long ago. When I really knew nothing about religion, G-d, or myself.
I remember the long walks with Rabbi and Mrs. Kosman, to and from the School for the Deaf from their home on East 2nd Street, once Jamie and I began to keep the commandments of the holiday. And then I remember my "graduation" to the high holidays spent in Baltimore at the Ner Israel yeshiva.

This year, as I sat in synagogue, I thought about the fact that I DID NOT feel the need to go out. I was content to stay in and listen. I read the English, I worked on my Hebrew reading, and I thought about my relationship with G-d. I felt at peace with myself and my prayers. I knew to Whom I was praying.
Who woulda thunk?

... And I thought about the fact that this summer I missed my 20th high school reunion in Frederick. I wanted to go. I felt very torn! Those were my "wild and crazy" public high school days. I remember the feeling from my 15th reunion of not having much - except great memories! - in common with these great people. And yet, I wanted to go. But didn't.

My high school friends supported me as I went through my religious identity crisis. I was the only Jew in my class over over 300, yet, my friends never gave me a hard time about my Sabbath and holiday observance. Instead, they accommodated - parties on Saturday nights instead of Friday night, changing prom to Saturday night after a long school history of Friday night proms, and changing graduation to the night after Shavuot, a spring holiday celebrating the giving of the 10 commandments. I was very lucky. Maybe it's in their merit that I am where I am today. I had good, honorable, decent non-Jews supporting me in my religious journey.

And here I am, sitting in a synagogue in the middle of Israel, reading in Hebrew, praying in Hebrew, sitting amongst religious Jews, thinking about from where I come and appreciating where I am now.

Journeys...
being on them isn't always so glorious.
But life is a journey. We need to experience it.
It's in our attitude.
Being able to look back and be thankful for what we have learned.
Appreciate those that have helped us get here.
And keep journeying...

That's what I thought about this year.

Gotta keep journeying...