L'Shana Tova!
Tonight at sundown marks the start of the Jewish New Year - Rosh Hashanah. Usually I'd be with mine or Sean's family for this special occasion, but my current medical situation has robbed me of all my personal and vacation days, meaning I can't take off work. It's sad I won't be with Sean or my family, but I'm still celebrating, internally.
The Jewish new year, much like the "regular" one at the beginning of January, marks a new time. We start fresh, and hope for a year even better than the last. Although it hasn't even been a year since my breast cancer diagnosis, I'm looking at tonight, and the days and months that follow, as a fresh start: a year (and many, many years after) without breast cancer. Rosh Hashanah allows me to do that. Tonight is the start of something new, and hopefully better.
That's not to say that this past Jewish year wasn't filled with amazing things. After all, I got engaged! This past year HAS been amazing and special in every way. But now I get the chance to start over. In this new year I'll finish my breast cancer surgeries, and I'll get married! I'll start a new life, and a new family, with Sean. It will be a brand new chapter in my life. And I hope it's a healthy one.
It's actually kind of a relief that Rosh Hashanah is here, and I really didn't realize that until a few moments ago. Rosh Hashanah, usually for me, is like any other Jewish holiday. There's food and family and spirituality. But for some reason this year it's different. I feel almost free of what has plagued me these past few months; free of the breast cancer, and closer to G-d. Almost like G-d is saying: "yeah, I know this past year sucked, but I've got my eye on you, and I promise it will be better this coming year."
I'm not really a religious person. I've always had the same amount of "religious-ness" my whole life, I think. I do pray to G-d every day, and I believe in him, and I believe he's got mine, and the people I love's, best interests at heart. I believe he lets everything work out in the end, and I believe he watches over me. But I don't keep Kosher (hello, crab cakes), nor do I go to synagogue reguarly, and I don't really recite Hebrew prayers, except the (forgive my spelling) Shechechianu - which is basically a prayer that thanks G-d for bringing you to this day- this moment.
On a side note, I actually started saying that prayer during my Leukemia treatment. The first time I really said it (and meant it) was while I was in the shower while in the hospital during treatment. It was the first time in a few days I was well enough to stand up long enough to take a shower myself, and I said the prayer to thank G-d for letting me get to that moment. Since that day, 11 years ago, I have said that prayer every single day, because every single day I am thanking G-d for letting me get to where I am today.
So I don't consider myself super religious, but in my opinion, what's great about Judaism is you're allowed to practice how you wish. You can participate, if you will, in what's comfortable and meaningful to you. So that's what I've always done. But for some reason this year, this new year, I feel closer to G-d. And I really believe, deep down, things will get better.
So having this new year is a fresh start, and although I can't exactly forget (nor am I done) with my breast cancer journey, there is a little bit of relief knowing that that Jewish year (the year of breast cancer) is over, and a new one will begin tonight. If I don't believe in that, what can I believe in, really? I've got to believe in something, and I believe in the Jewish new year, and G-d naturally, so for that I'm grateful.
And soon after the new year is Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, where we fast and pray all day, and ask G-d to forgive us for all the wrong we've done in the past year, and vow to be better in the coming year. Like a clean slate, we rid ourselves of past negativity. As much as I hate fasting (but like wearing high heels all day in temple), Yom Kippur is especially meaningful to me because I always feel like I have plenty of "bad stuff" I need to be forgiven for, such as yelling. Yelling is probably my worst vice. So when Yom Kippur rolls around in a few weeks, although I won't be at synagogue with Sean and his family, I can still celebrate the holiday in my own way. I can still reflect and talk to G-d. That's the beauty of G-d; he is everywhere, so you don't need to be in a sanctuary to talk to him.
As much as I really, really hate what's happened to me these past few months, and as much as I cry and yell over the physical pain I feel every day, and as much as I feel robbed of my femininity, and and as much as I'm devestated over this happening while I'm planning my wedding, and as much as I sometimes hate the world and think it's unfair, I still feel, at the very bottom of my core, that this happened for a reason and the reason is to make me better. Like I've mentioned in another post, I can't picture my life now without breast cancer. It has become a part of me. It's a part of my story now. It's not that I feel it's made me stronger yet. Or a better person. It's that it's just a part of my life.
So when I pray to G-d and "talk" to him about what's happened, I tend to think he "did" this to me, or that he allowed this to happen. As bad as that sounds, because I believe in him as the highest power there is, I believe he is associated with what happens to me. While I'm not really sure, and may never be, if that's true or not, I do believe he knows that it happened and knows what will become of me because of it. He knows what I don't yet know, and that's me on the other side of this. He knows who Marjorie will be after all this. He's very much aware of what I'm going through. I won't say he "allowed" this to happen because that's not exactly the right word. It's more he's aware of it. People could argue for decades about religion and G-d and if he exists, and if he does exist, why does he let bad things happen to good people. But I won't get into that because everyone has different beliefs and I respect that. But my belief - what I choose to believe in today, and have always believed in - is that G-d is there through the good and the bad. He mostly watches, but sometimes he intervenes. And throughout my breast cancer journey he's been watching. He's been there the whole time. And it's comforting to believe that. And that's all it is: comfort. But we should never underestimate the power of comfort, no matter how little it appears sometimes.
The comfort is believing G-d is there, whether or not I'm in synagogue, during the start of the Jewish new year. And he's watching me through this, and knows I can do this. And that's really where the belief comes from, deep down. I know getting cancer isn't an "act" of G-d. But because it happened in my life, and because G-d is a part of my life and watches my life, I garner, from him, the strength and power that I believe he has in ME.
Tonight at sundown marks the start of the Jewish New Year - Rosh Hashanah. Usually I'd be with mine or Sean's family for this special occasion, but my current medical situation has robbed me of all my personal and vacation days, meaning I can't take off work. It's sad I won't be with Sean or my family, but I'm still celebrating, internally.
The Jewish new year, much like the "regular" one at the beginning of January, marks a new time. We start fresh, and hope for a year even better than the last. Although it hasn't even been a year since my breast cancer diagnosis, I'm looking at tonight, and the days and months that follow, as a fresh start: a year (and many, many years after) without breast cancer. Rosh Hashanah allows me to do that. Tonight is the start of something new, and hopefully better.
That's not to say that this past Jewish year wasn't filled with amazing things. After all, I got engaged! This past year HAS been amazing and special in every way. But now I get the chance to start over. In this new year I'll finish my breast cancer surgeries, and I'll get married! I'll start a new life, and a new family, with Sean. It will be a brand new chapter in my life. And I hope it's a healthy one.
It's actually kind of a relief that Rosh Hashanah is here, and I really didn't realize that until a few moments ago. Rosh Hashanah, usually for me, is like any other Jewish holiday. There's food and family and spirituality. But for some reason this year it's different. I feel almost free of what has plagued me these past few months; free of the breast cancer, and closer to G-d. Almost like G-d is saying: "yeah, I know this past year sucked, but I've got my eye on you, and I promise it will be better this coming year."
I'm not really a religious person. I've always had the same amount of "religious-ness" my whole life, I think. I do pray to G-d every day, and I believe in him, and I believe he's got mine, and the people I love's, best interests at heart. I believe he lets everything work out in the end, and I believe he watches over me. But I don't keep Kosher (hello, crab cakes), nor do I go to synagogue reguarly, and I don't really recite Hebrew prayers, except the (forgive my spelling) Shechechianu - which is basically a prayer that thanks G-d for bringing you to this day- this moment.
On a side note, I actually started saying that prayer during my Leukemia treatment. The first time I really said it (and meant it) was while I was in the shower while in the hospital during treatment. It was the first time in a few days I was well enough to stand up long enough to take a shower myself, and I said the prayer to thank G-d for letting me get to that moment. Since that day, 11 years ago, I have said that prayer every single day, because every single day I am thanking G-d for letting me get to where I am today.
So I don't consider myself super religious, but in my opinion, what's great about Judaism is you're allowed to practice how you wish. You can participate, if you will, in what's comfortable and meaningful to you. So that's what I've always done. But for some reason this year, this new year, I feel closer to G-d. And I really believe, deep down, things will get better.
So having this new year is a fresh start, and although I can't exactly forget (nor am I done) with my breast cancer journey, there is a little bit of relief knowing that that Jewish year (the year of breast cancer) is over, and a new one will begin tonight. If I don't believe in that, what can I believe in, really? I've got to believe in something, and I believe in the Jewish new year, and G-d naturally, so for that I'm grateful.
And soon after the new year is Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, where we fast and pray all day, and ask G-d to forgive us for all the wrong we've done in the past year, and vow to be better in the coming year. Like a clean slate, we rid ourselves of past negativity. As much as I hate fasting (but like wearing high heels all day in temple), Yom Kippur is especially meaningful to me because I always feel like I have plenty of "bad stuff" I need to be forgiven for, such as yelling. Yelling is probably my worst vice. So when Yom Kippur rolls around in a few weeks, although I won't be at synagogue with Sean and his family, I can still celebrate the holiday in my own way. I can still reflect and talk to G-d. That's the beauty of G-d; he is everywhere, so you don't need to be in a sanctuary to talk to him.
As much as I really, really hate what's happened to me these past few months, and as much as I cry and yell over the physical pain I feel every day, and as much as I feel robbed of my femininity, and and as much as I'm devestated over this happening while I'm planning my wedding, and as much as I sometimes hate the world and think it's unfair, I still feel, at the very bottom of my core, that this happened for a reason and the reason is to make me better. Like I've mentioned in another post, I can't picture my life now without breast cancer. It has become a part of me. It's a part of my story now. It's not that I feel it's made me stronger yet. Or a better person. It's that it's just a part of my life.
So when I pray to G-d and "talk" to him about what's happened, I tend to think he "did" this to me, or that he allowed this to happen. As bad as that sounds, because I believe in him as the highest power there is, I believe he is associated with what happens to me. While I'm not really sure, and may never be, if that's true or not, I do believe he knows that it happened and knows what will become of me because of it. He knows what I don't yet know, and that's me on the other side of this. He knows who Marjorie will be after all this. He's very much aware of what I'm going through. I won't say he "allowed" this to happen because that's not exactly the right word. It's more he's aware of it. People could argue for decades about religion and G-d and if he exists, and if he does exist, why does he let bad things happen to good people. But I won't get into that because everyone has different beliefs and I respect that. But my belief - what I choose to believe in today, and have always believed in - is that G-d is there through the good and the bad. He mostly watches, but sometimes he intervenes. And throughout my breast cancer journey he's been watching. He's been there the whole time. And it's comforting to believe that. And that's all it is: comfort. But we should never underestimate the power of comfort, no matter how little it appears sometimes.
The comfort is believing G-d is there, whether or not I'm in synagogue, during the start of the Jewish new year. And he's watching me through this, and knows I can do this. And that's really where the belief comes from, deep down. I know getting cancer isn't an "act" of G-d. But because it happened in my life, and because G-d is a part of my life and watches my life, I garner, from him, the strength and power that I believe he has in ME.
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