"Don't tell God how big your storm is; tell your storm how big your God is."

I believe in God.

Monday, December 19, 2016

This and That

  1. My vision problems can be corrected with therapy.  It's the best answer for which I could have reasonably hoped.
  2. I am, right now, feeling sad that I have health problems in the first place.  I am allowing myself to feel whatever I feel.
  3. I made a meaningful collage above my bed today.  I started with the pictures of "my" Reece's Rainbow kids which I had printed yesterday.  Then, next to them, I hung the three photographs of their girls which Lev Lalev orphanage in Israel sent me when I donated my first-ever tzedakah box full of money to their mental health fund back in May.  Now I have a tangible reminder of the good I have done in the world, as well as a visible push to do more, hanging where I can easily see it.
  4. I wrote a wonderful letter to God this afternoon, if I do say so myself.  It started with...confusion about why God would make me with so many health problems, and ended in a sweet moment of connection.
  5. When my tzedakah box gets up to 30 dollars, I will roll up the money, deposit, and donate.  I have gotten up to that recently, but "stolen" several dollars from myself as I waited for the box to fill...this has happened more times than I like to admit.  I need exactly 30 dollars, to "purchase" honeybees to be donated through Heifer International.  If I have extra money, I will use it to start saving again.
  6. When I first began keeping a tzedakah box, I came up with three organizations through which I wanted to rotate donating: Lev Lalev (perhaps a different fund each time...they have many), Reece's Rainbow (specifically whichever child I am praying for at that time), and Heifer International (a different animal each time, among the ones I can afford).  This is only the second time my box has filled, but it is my third donation (complicated story).  On the next go-round, it's time to start over!

Sunday, December 18, 2016

Feeling Happy Again

(I would much, much rather be talking to a human friend right now.  However, none of them are picking up their phones.  To my mind, blogging was invented for those times when one just needs to talk and there's no one to listen...certainly that's how I got started, seven or eight years ago.)

I am happy again, for two reasons. Let's work our way up.

The less significant reason is that pictures of "my" Reece's Rainbow kids are finally, finally hanging above my bed! This is something I have wanted for years; I don't know what's been stopping me up till now.  I actually printed the pictures so I could tell others about Reece's Rainbow, but trying that once or twice showed me that that really doesn't work.  Later, thinking things over, I realized I had really printed the pictures for me, so I hung them in a prominent place in my apartment.  It was only after they were hanging that I remembered how much I wanted this, and for how long.

The second, more significant reason is that tonight, while writing a letter to God, I CAME UP WITH A NEW NAME FOR THE NOT-SO-SECRET LIST.  No, my psychiatric health is not in danger; this was a Sarah-originating thought, not a God-originating revelation.  I don't feel comfortable sharing contents of that list on the blog--and this new name is so new I don't feel comfortable sharing with anyone yet--but, still, it's exciting.

For a while now, until I don't feel like doing so anymore, I am going to end every blog post with pictures of "Jacob" and "Rheann."  I know how their stories will likely end, but I pray for miracles anyway, and I'd like to know I did my part to attempt to bring them about.  So please see their pictures below.

Jacob smb8jn5-165jf Rheann 2016

Tikkun Olam Mission

I can't sleep, because I had a very sad dream.  (I don't remember much about this dream, just that it was very sad.)  The Rabbi whose house I go to for dinner on Friday nights now said something very powerful and moving this week.  He said that, if one gets into bed to go to sleep, and cannot figure out what one did to improve the world that day, one should get out of bed and improve the world before going to sleep.

Tikkum Olam literally translates to "repairing the world."  It is the business of every Jew to make the world a better place.  My personal bit is to pray for Reece's Rainbow children.

Though Reece's Rainbow prefers each person to only have one assigned child, I actually have two. This is because my first (actually my second; my first got adopted in a matter of months) is in Russ!@, where pretty much all foreign adoptions are banned.  Also, she will age out in a little over a year.  It's basically a hopeless case.

When I realized how hopeless that one was, I asked for a new assignment.  I was given a little girl in Ch!n@; when she got adopted (in a matter of weeks!), I got another Ch!nese child, a little boy this time...my "Jacob", the child for whom I have prayed longest, not counting the Russ!@n girl for whom I will probably be praying for the rest of my life.

The first child mentioned in this post is "Rheann," and the second is "Jacob."  Recent pictures of both worry me greatly.  In "Rheann's" last picture, posted about two to three years ago, she looks all rosy and smiley, and now...well, now she just doesn't.  She finally looks her age (she's always looked younger), but she also looks all beaten up and tired.  "Jacob," similarly, looks as if he's slowly starving to death, wasting away.

Below are both their pictures, one below the other.  Maybe, just maybe, someone will see them and go after them.  It's a long shot, but I can always hope and try.

Jacob sm

b8jn5-165jf Rheann 2016

Saturday, December 17, 2016

"Gonna tell you how much I love you, though you think you already know."

*Title quotation from song "My Little Girl," by Tim McGraw.  I have considered several potential titles for this post; this is the one I like best.*

How many of you remember "Rheann?"  "Rheann" is a Russian orphan with Down syndrome, who was listed with Reece's Rainbow.  She was also my second-ever Prayer Warrior assignment, after "Grady" got adopted.

In late 2012, Russia outlawed US adoptions, including stopping the ones already in progress.  Reece's Rainbow reallocated the grant funds of its Russian children to those it felt had a better chance of being adopted.  I asked for a new Prayer Warrior assignment, and was given "Isabella;" when she was adopted, I was given my "Jacob."  Three and a half years later, I am still praying for my "Jacob;" however, his story is for another post.

Today I watched a documentary on the Russian orphan crisis, "Children of the State."  It was not exactly in the spirit of the Sabbath, but I could not find a law it actually broke, and the documentary would only be available for free on Youtube until Monday...so I watched it.

Break.  My.  Heart.  Then tear it into pieces.  I had never seen, or for that matter, heard, an orphanage in action before.  Absolutely horrible.  I also learned something I did not know, which is that the same law halting and banning American adoptions, also halted and banned adoptions in many European countries: Germany, Italy, France, and Spain among them.

I still pray for my "Rheann" every day.  She is second to "Jacob," but I make sure she gets her share of prayers too.  "Rheann" will turn 15 in January...and then, a year later, she will be headed for an adult mental institution, unless God works a miracle fast.  I pray for that miracle day in and day out. It's the least I can do.

I will close this post with the two pictures of "Rheann" that can still be seen if one knows how to search.  The first is the first I ever saw; the second was new a couple of years ago.

EDITED TO ADD:  Oh! Oh! Oh! There is a new picture! Unfortunately, she does not look nearly as happy as she did in the previous one, which makes my heart flop and my stomach sicken...but at least she's still alive, and people can see what she looks like.

b8jn5-165jf Rheann 2016

Thursday, December 15, 2016

Something I've Wanted for my Entire (Jewish) Adult Life

FIRST: I went to a new social group tonight.  It was a horribly disappointing experience, but at least I tried.  I might or might not write more about it later (like tomorrow), after the swirling feelings have died down.  Tonight I need to soothe myself, then go to bed.

SECOND: I thought about several titles for this post, but this one conveys the magnitude of the event, so I went with it even though it is a bit wordy.

NOW: For my entire adult Jewish life (so starting from Bat Mitzvah)--and even before, in the months leading up to my Bat Mitzvah, as I thought about the equipment an adult Jew needs--I knew I wanted a pink tefillin bag.  I wanted my tefillin wearing to have feminist flair as does all the rest of my Jewish life, but pink tefillin bags simply do not exist on the commercial market; apparently not enough women wear tefillin.  I got a maroon bag, the next best thing.

It wasn't good enough; for almost twelve years now, I have wanted that pink bag.  I finally decided to make one.

Gathering materials was easy.  I had just enough of a pink-and-white check for the bag; it closes at the top with a pink circle button.  (Tefillin bags usually zip closed; I don't know how to do zippers.)  A tefillin bag is usually richly, ornately embroidered.  I knew I could not do anything like what is usually seen, but I had to decorate my new bag somehow.  By luck--or the grace of God, depending whom you ask--I had narrow, bright pink ribbon.  I made a large Jewish star on the front of my bag, using strips of this ribbon.

I absolutely love the result.  Once again, I have used my very best craft skills to make something I will be proud to use.  It does not get much better than that.

Making a Mizrach, Part Five

MIZRACH COMPLETED! In the last "Mizrach" post, I said this was going to be a six-part series, not a five-part series, because of the extra space at the end of the word "Mizrach."  (See photos below.)  However, I have decided that I like this minimalist look, so this is a five-part series, after all.

As I said in the italicized portion above, MY MIZRACH IS NOW COMPLETE.  I did have enough extra space to add additional decoration, and I was thinking of adding a Jewish star, in strips of the same fabrics that made the letters.  However, extra space or no extra space, I decided I liked the look of just the Hebrew word "Mizrach," no additional decoration.

So now I have all four letters of the word Mizrach: mem-zayin-resh-chet.  With the vowels that are part of this word (not intrinsic to the letters; see "Making a Mizrach, Part Four" for an explanation of that), these letters spell out "Mizrach."

There are two pictures below.  The first shows the Mizrach laid out on my bed, as I have positioned it for every photograph in this series.  The second shows it hanging on the wall above my dresser, where I can use it when I pray.  I am so, so proud of how it turned out.  I have made something beautiful to use in my worship of God; there's no better feeling than that.

Next up? A pink tefillin bag, something I have wanted since before my Bat Mitzvah, something unavailable on the commercial market.

Making a Mizrach, Part Four

This is Part Four in my six-part series, "Making a Mizrach." It was originally going to be a five-part series: one part done before I started the lettering, and one part done as I completed each of the four letters.  Then I noticed how much blank space would be left at the end, and realized I needed something more than just the word "Mizrach."  Anyway, the three posts directly below this show previous phases of the project.

Now I have completed three out of the four letters of the Hebrew word, "Mizrach," mem-zayin-resh. These three letters spell out "mizra."

This might be a good time to tell you an important thing about the Hebrew alphabet.  In the Hebrew alphabet, there are no vowels.  Every single letter is a consonant.  The vowels are a separate system of dots and dashes that go underneath and above, and sometimes in the middle of, the letters.

Obviously, without vowels, consonants make no sound at all.  If I had space on my Mizrach, which I don't, I might put the vowels that go with the consonants that spell the word.  I might not, however; by the time one gets to my level of Hebrew knowledge, one is reading and writing, fluently, without vowels.

Anyway.  Here is a picture of my Mizrach, currently spelling out "mizra."

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Making a Mizrach, Part Three

This is Part Three in my "Making a Mizrach" series.  Parts One and Two are directly below.

So now my Mizrach has two letters, the letters mem-zayin.  Together, these letters spell out the syllable, "miz."

My friend Katherine gets all the credit for my correct, cursive Hebrew zayin.  The zayin is made with a curve; all the other letters can be made with strips.  For the life of me, I could not figure out how to make one.  Katherine, you might surmise from her name, is not Jewish at all, and has no Hebrew knowledge.  However, she is much craftier, and much more spatial, than I am.  Knowing this, I posed the problem to her.  She suggested cutting a shape out of paper, pinning that to cloth, and then cutting the cloth.

Making a Mizrach, Part Two

This is Part Two in my five-part series, "Making a Mizrach."  Part One is one entry down.

Now my Mizrach has the first letter attached.  The word "Mizrach" in Hebrew is spelled with four letters: mem, zayin, resh, and chet.  I have completed the mem, out of strips of gray and brown.

Making a Mizrach, Part One

At least as planned right now, this is going to be a five part series.  Each update will summarize work done up to that point, and end in a recent photograph.

"Mizrach" is the Hebrew word for East,  Because Jews face towards Israel when we pray, and in America that is East, "a Mizrach" has come to mean a special wall hanging, hung on the Eastern wall of the room where one prays.

A year and a half or so ago I sat down to make a Mizrach.  That wall hanging, which I did not end up using as a Mizrach, was a row of Jewish stars, each in a different blue or blue and white material, on white background.

Today I sat down to take up the project again.  My new Mizrach will have a blue print background.  It will say "Mizrach" in Hebrew, the letters made in strips of gray print and brown print.

At the time of writing this update, I have hemmed the background in my best stitches, which, admittedly, are not very good.  I have also started the lettering, but I meant to post this before I did that, and the picture below does not show any letters.

Documenting Kippot (by Color)

Every so often I do one of these posts, where I categorize and photograph my growing collection of kippot.  I set up the photographs according to various categories: for this particular post, I grouped by color.  I am proud of my collection, and I have acquired several since the last time I did one of these; I am now up to 39.  Every single kippah I own made it into a picture for this post, except the one currently on my head, which I will describe here.  That one is a purple "Bat Mitzvah Beanie."  The term Bat (or Bar) Mitzvah Beanie comes from my father, and I have adopted it.  When we use that term, we mean one of the large, cheap satin ones, readily available at most B'nei Mitzvah.

PINK! Bottom Left: "Geometric Shapes Magenta" embroidered silk, by designer Yair Emanuel; "Pink with Pomegranates" embroidered silk, by designer Yair Emanuel.  Middle: "Bat Mitzvah Beanie" collected for me by my father.  Top: suede, from my own Bat Mitzvah; hand crocheted, by my friend Sami.

RED! Left to Right: Velvet, extra large, collected from family drawer; "Flowers Magenta" embroidered silk, by designer Yair Emanuel; dragon, silk, bought on Etsy; machine embroidered silk, extra large, by designer Yair Emanuel.  The middle two were specifically bought to wear with undergrad university t-shirts, which were red...I specifically bought one of my warm-weather skirts to go with them, too.

GREEN! Left to Right: Hand crocheted by my friend Sami; crocheted, free from Bar Mitzvah.  That particular Bar Mitzvah actually had them in two color schemes, and the other was blue and purple.  I thought that one was prettier, but as you will soon see, I had lots of blue and lots of purple already; I needed the green one more.

BLUE! Bottom, Left to Right: "Bedtime Kippah," probably the first I ever owned, though I don't remember receiving it; "Bar Mitzvah Beanie;" "Bar Mitzvah Beanie."  Middle, Left to Right: canvas, free from Bat Mitzvah; machine embroidered silk from designer Yair Emanuel, and also the only one in this picture I purchased, rather than receiving free; crocheted, free from Bat Mitzvah; satin (not "Bat Mitzvah Beanie" due to size, quality, and internal clip), free from Bat Mitzvah, and actually hand made by Bat Mitzvah family.  Top, Left to Right: suede, free from Bar Mitzvah; suede, free from Bar Mitzvah; suede, free from Bar Mitzvah; suede, free from high school graduation.

PURPLE! Bottom: Hand embroidered, high school graduation present (one this special could only be that sort of gift; I intend to get another as my college graduation gift, because no, I still haven't gotten that); hand-painted silk by designer Yair Emanuel (background was supposed to be blue, but that's another story); crocheted, bought from Kippah Man, shop on Ben Yehuda street in Jerusalem; suede, free from my own Bat Mitzvah; suede, free from "Emily's" wedding ("Emily" was a roommate my sophomore year of college).

GRAY! Left to Right: Genuine US Army Issue, from the last set of uniforms;embroidered, came with my Bat Mitzvah prayer shawl, and used to be purple (When I first started wearing a kippah full time, I only had two, and one was this one, so they got a lot of use, and therefore faded.); crocheted, first that I can remember receiving, from my father.

BLACK! Left to Right: Velvet, ultra-Orthodox style, originally bought to thumb my nose at them (nobody gets the joke but me: ultra-Orthodox people just think it's a kippah, because they don't know any different; and the people who would appreciate the joke don't recognize it as ultra-Orthodox), and now I wear it on fast days and other solemn occasions, because it looks appropriate; embroidered, free with older brother's Bar Mitzvah prayer shawl, by designer Gabrieli; velvet, free from younger brother's Bar Mitzvah (I don't have one from older brother's Bar Mitzvah because I wasn't wearing/saving/collecting kippot yet...wish I did).

RAINBOW/MISCELLANEOUS! Bottom, Left to Right: Extra large, found in family drawer; crocheted, almost extra large, made in Uganda.  Top, Left to Right: Crocheted, gay pride (made by hand, really quality workmanship, bought on Etsy; I went back to the same seller and arranged a bisexual pride kippah for my birthday this year); crocheted, second I can remember receiving, gift from my father.

PAY ATTENTION.  I gave this one its very own picture, and saved it till last, for a reason.  I got this one with the "flowers magenta" (see the reds) and hand-painted silk (see the purples), and at first I didn't think much of it.  Then, in a vision, God revealed to me that if I really want to get close, to almost touch God, I should wear this kippah...and I've been using it that way ever since.  I have to be careful: if it's a day when I might already get super-close, such as Yom Kippur or just any day when I feel my defenses are compromised, I absolutely cannot wear this one...or things get unsafe really fast.  Oh, and it's plain raw silk.  Almost forgot to include that.

Sunday, December 11, 2016


So, Friday night, I got two reactions to my tzitziot.  One was a man doing the adult equivalent of staring: I watched his gaze travel the length of them when he came into synagogue.  The other was from the Rabbi's daughter, "Leah" (I cannot get consent for real names from that family because I can never tell them about this blog: they would learn that I am bisexual, and they would also read bad things about themselves, and I can't let either of those things happen): she asked the tefillin question.

I was so, so glad I had mentally role played, over and over again, how to answer that question, because I was able to calmly answer truthfully.  Then she took it one step further.  She asked, "Don't you know it's forbidden for women to put on tefillin? Don't you follow Jewish law?" In the moment, the best response I could think of was something about how, in the Conservative movement, Jewish law changes over time; and I used ordaining female Rabbis as my example.  Poor, sheltered "Leah" did not know there were female Rabbis, at all, anywhere! It would be one thing for her not to approve of female Rabbis...but not to know they exist?

Friday, December 9, 2016

Miscellaneous Musings

Yes, a second post today.  Trying to kill time till I call my mother (totally ready for the Sabbath), and I have things to say.

There is an unintended consequence to my not being in pain.  For a very long time, I used pain as the buffer between me and God.  In other words, if I started getting too close to God, I caused myself pain (usually by scrunching my toes), and that pulled me back.  Now, I physically cannot do that.  I cannot protect myself from close spiritual interactions of the supernatural kind...close spiritual interactions of the supernatural kind are not safe for my mental health.  My farther suggested I break off in the middle of stuff, and tell God I would love to get closer but it isn't safe, and then finish stuff...we'll have to see if that works.

One of the Rabbi's sons is going to attempt to start a fight with me over my fringes tonight, I just know it.  He's an angry person (doesn't agree with his parents' religious views, visibly fights them), and he will start a fight with just about anybody who will fight him.  However, I've got one up on him.  I know I'm coming in fringes, and I know how he will react.  He doesn't know I'm coming in fringes.  Therefore, I simply do not have to fight him.  Period, end of story.

Totally Radical

For the longest time now--think months--I have worn my tzitziot (carefully, ritually knotted fringes on holy undergarment) tucked into my skirt, brushing against my legs.  I simply didn't like getting reactions to them; and I always got reactions, wherever I went, because they're just that unusual on a woman.  (In my entire life, I have met two other women who wear them: both were Rabbinical students at Hebrew College, a nondenominational Rabbinical school in the Boston area.)

Last night, I decided I was going back to wearing my tzitziot dangling loose, brushing against the outside of my skirt.  I would wear them that way everywhere, that is, except the Orthodox synagogue I go to now.

Then, as I wrote to God, thought about things, and went on with my evening, I changed my mind: I am going to wear them dangling loose EVERYWHERE, including to synagogue! I am tired of hiding who I am.

Given who goes to this synagogue and how they behave (for instance, there are women who wear the big prayer shawl, and this is the same commandment), I may get no reaction at all.  However, I have prepared myself for three questions, which I will answer with the simple truth:

  1. "Do you wear tefillin [phylacteries]?" The answer to this one is a simple "yes," because I do.  Just as I am tired of hiding my tzitziot, I am tired of hiding my tefillin.  I will not bring it up if nobody else does, because why start fights? (In their world, tefillin on a woman are more controversial than fringes or kippah.)  However, if they bring it up, I'm ready to stand for what I stand for, with a truthful answer.
  2. "Are you a Jewish feminist?" The answer to this is another simple "yes," because that's exactly what I am.  It's funny: once, in college, someone said to me, "So-and-so says you're a Jewish feminist.  Are you?" In that moment, I burned with shame and turned down the title.  Thinking it over in later years, however, I realized that's exactly what I am.  I do everything a man does (I will not say I do it "like a man," because I do it with my own feminist flair), and I believe I am obligated to do so, just as much as a man is.  That makes me a feminist.  My father told me this morning when we talked that I am definitely a Jewish feminist, but coming from our family he wouldn't expect anything different of me.
  3. "Are you [a] lesbian?" This question gets answered in the negative, because I am not.  They will ask, because in their minds, I am behaving "like a man;" and in their minds, lesbians behave "like men."  However, I am not lesbian! They will not think to follow the question up with, "are you bisexual?" so  my secret is still safe.
So, I would say I am prepared! Negative reactions, positive reactions, confused reactions--I can handle them all! Bring.  It.  On.

Thursday, December 8, 2016

So Proud!

I am so proud of myself.  You must, must, must read this story.  (I almost said "hear," but this is a blog, so "read" is the appropriate verb.)

Today I was out doing my grocery shopping, and I passed a man out on the street asking for spare change.  This has become a common sight in my life since I moved to New York, and I must admit that sometimes I give and sometimes I don't.  Today, I didn't, because I don't have a lot of spare change this week and I want to save it to put in my box tomorrow.

I'm wearing a black velvet kippah today (not the ultra-Orthodox one; the other one, from my brother's Bar Mitzvah), not one that screams "Jew" from a mile away.  However, as I passed close to this man, he noticed it, and loudly said something derogatory about Jews.  I don't know what it was because I only caught "...JEW," but I did catch the voice tone, and it wasn't nice.

I was really, really tempted to just keep walking.  I didn't think I had the courage to face him down and stand up to him.

Here's the thing, though: when I first started wearing a kippah all the time, publicly, I knew I was choosing to represent my people: all the time, publicly.  I knew I would have moments like this, and when you're representing, well, you're representing.

So I turned back around, marched back to where the man could see me, and, just like this, said, "DON'T.  INSULT.  MY PEOPLE."  Then I spun back around, and continued on my way to the store.

And on my way home, when I passed him again? He didn't have a thing to say to me.  Ha!

So very proud of myself.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Living the Dream

*First of all, the full name of the man who healed me, used not only with consent but with encouragement, is Joseph Antoine Alston.  I promised him I'd throw that into my next entry.*

I am living the dream.  I never imagined feeling this good, this consistently, again.  Tonight my feet were cold, and, almost without thinking about it, I went and put on socks.

Read that again, people.  I WENT AND PUT ON SOCKS! I haven't gone to sleep with socks on in forever.  And, OK, so I haven't gone to sleep yet, but I'm very close...and it isn't the socks keeping me awake.

This is going to stick.  This is going to last.

I am discovering who "able-bodied-Sarah" is again.  Do remember, I haven't been consistently able-bodied since my first month of high school, nine years ago.  Nine years of time is a lot to lose, but it isn't too much...because I am going to gain it back.

On that, I am determined.  Whatever I lost in my RSD years, I have within reach again...life is mine to claim.  I will "grow up," and I will live...this story can have a happy ending, after all.

Gratitude again to Joseph Antoine Alston.

Friday, December 2, 2016

The "Magic Touch"

It's completely OK if you don't believe me.  If I hadn't experienced the following for myself, I probably wouldn't believe me either.

That being said:

There is a man up near my grandmother's house in Massachusetts who can heal by touch and gentle exercise.  Due to lack of consent to use his real name (not that he refused, and in fact he would probably agree; I just forgot to ask), I will call him "Samuel."

I came to "Samuel" in tremendous pain.  I almost don't need to say that part; if you've been reading this blog for any length of time at all, you know how bad I've been feeling.  For three days, I allowed "Samuel" to work his "healing magic" on me: gently touching the parts of me that hurt, and having me move around, mostly while lying flat on my back.

Oh.  My.  Lord.  And I don't say that often.

After three sessions with "Samuel," I am very nearly pain free.  I have kept my bedtime medication regimen the same because I know I need to sleep, but I have not touched pain medication during the day since the day before I saw him.  This is not some great act of will power; I simply haven't needed it.

I am back to full Sarah walking speed; I haven't moved this quickly or freely since pre-RSD.  I don't mean pre-diagnosis; I mean pre-RSD.  That's nine years, people.  NINE YEARS.

And the best part? It is easy to keep his results in place.  All I have to do is lie on the floor, with my head cushioned, and move my hands and feet freely...for twenty minutes a day.  That's it.

"Samuel" is a worker of miracles.  My gratitude to him, and to the God that both he and I believe in.  Miracles.


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I am a bipolar, Jewish young adult (had my Hebrew birthday, the one I count, and turned 23 this past January) who also suffers from Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. I love life and I live for my best friends: they are my purpose and my reason for trying so hard. I remain passionately devoted to those I love; I will not let my disorders make me totally self-centered. I like to read, write, and sew. My Rabbinical school plans did not work out, and I am now hoping to go into the field of Early Childhood Education. Please note: I am currently maintaining only Carried in His Hands. Enjoy!