So, this Friday night we went to a 2nd-grade Shabbat service at the synagogue. I really need to stop going to the dinner part of these things; they're expensive, the food is so-so (and most of it Rachel won't eat), and we never find anyone we know (Dani's parents, Stacy and Peter Leff, usually don't attend). And the people seem to know each other but don't always reach out beyond introducing themselves and then they go back to talking among themselves. (It was especially acute this week because three of the women at the table all have kids who go to the same elementary school, Cherrydale, in tony McLean, Va.)
Rachel sang at the service, along with the other 2nd-graders, and the sermon really spoke to me; it was about being the best person one could be rather than trying to be someone you're not. Words that especially resonate for me at this moment.
Afterward, at the oneg Shabbat, they had Israeli dancing. Rachel coaxed me out of my somber mood by persuading me to dance with the group, and it did make me feel better. I really love klezmer music and for a moment I could visualize myself dancing in a hall on a kibbutz in Israel. If I had the time, I'd probably take up Israeli dancing -- but I work nights, so that isn't likely to happen.
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