Bei mir bist du shayn

(Trans.: To me, you are beautiful)

I don't have much family: just a father (with whom I am very close), a mother (whom I love, but like all mother-daughter relationships, well ...) and a brother, from whom I estranged. Estrangement is a family tradition in a way: my father is extremely distant from his family, my mother distant from hers. I don't remember my father's dad so well; I was seven when he died, but I remember him being quiet and sweet. My father's mother was another story -- bossy and controlling and hyper-critical, and because my dad didn't get along with her, we didn't either. I was fond of my mother's parents, but they lived very, very far away from us and I saw them only once per year.

I'd like to take a poll of Jewish converts and see how often the idea of "family" comes up in their reasons for converting. I was pulled to Judaism for other, stronger reasons, but once I was involved in the community, I couldn't help but be struck by the value Jews traditionally place on family. It provoked--and continues to provoke--a mixed ranged of reactions in me. I was jealous of it because I didn't have it and won't ever have it with my natural family. I am sad because I didn't grow up like that. I am amazed by it because it was so foreign to my own experience. I am inspired by it, and see the life I wish to build for myself. I am happy to know that this exists in the world.

It's been a tough few years fo me. Really hard. Twice, I was driven to my knees. The details aren't really necessary. When my world fell apart, everything I had been trying to hold in came to the surface and I've been working very, very hard to overcome my past, to wash it off. My eperiences of the past few years have wreaked havoc on my physical appearance and health. I know that I am an attractive woman, but I used to be a size six hottie with about the best possible wardrobe (not tznius, however) and I struggle with my desired to hide, to stay inside by myself until I am back to the way I used to be (whatever that means).

If I had had a different family, my life would have been very different. Duh, that seems like a common sense thing to say, but what I mean is this: if I had a family who could have noticed, who could have sensed, who could have seen, I would not be in this spot today. OK, as Tolstoy notes, every family is flawed in it's own way. But there are some families that are tender and loving and keep vigilant eyes on their children and keep them protected, yes?

Have you ever had an amazing, ground breaking, pivotal experience just from reading a few words? Not a book or a poem, but a single line? When I read the subhead for this blog -- "don't pee on me and tell me it's raining -- it actually shook my world. It was as if the Bubbie I never had -- the woman I needed (woa, need) in my life --put down the spoon with which she was stirring a pot of soup, wiped her hands on her apron, walked to the kitchen door, stared me straight in the eyes and said the very most wise thing I needed to here.

Tonight, she put one soft, worny boney hand on each of my cheeks, looked at me tenderly and said, "Bei mir bist du shayn."

When I chose the subheading for this blog, "