Dealing with Challenge

Slowly the shelter came to life. My mother got up and prepared breakfast--a few crackers with some jam we still had left, but neither my two sisters nor my mother touched the food…

The large signs in the entryway to our apartment building made it so that even if you didn't want to know, you knew. One of my neighbors had died...

I would be asked what my name is, to which I would respond "Riva." I would then be called a "Judovka," and have rocks thrown at me...

And here I stood sobbing over this plant and this card with my friend who had just come over for coffee. Why? How am I courageous? This woman has lived through so much more upheaval than I could imagine...

What remains from one of the darkest periods of my life is something strange, something I never would have expected: a rare gift that you can only purchase at the cost of thousands and thousands of tears...

At every juncture, on every bridge, at every bend in the road, with every turn of the head, someone lives, someone dies, someone waits, someone cries...

As an eighteen year-old college student, I had only begun to wade in the waters of Jewish observance when I made my first visit to Israel in 1972...

When we contacted my mother’s relatives, we ended up banging our heads once again against the old, now petrified veil of silence . . .

"Wow! He's a hero!" I guess. "You mean he actually can shoot a gun?" I'd hope so! "Did he kill anyone?" I'm not about to ask but I suppose he did. "Is he a general?" No, he's a corporal. "Does he wear a dog tag? What are they for anyhow?" Um...

I can recall the day Tova died as if it were yesterday. I was eleven years old, and I had never experienced a loss like that. I was in shock...

This young woman, with her dark, black shiny hair, had a spirit and effervescence I could only admire. I thought to myself: she has no idea of the pain I am living with, the weight of what I carry...

I am one of the lucky ones. I may need a lung transplant and am entering a new decade, but I have friends in the here and in the now...

Just a month after my first seizure and diagnosis of brain cancer, I had spent last night completely alone in the emergency room with a second seizure. Even food and water had been prohibited...

Alas for my beautiful Gush Katif that I knew and loved. At this hour I should be standing in my garden; my ankles deep in the lush dark-green grass...

When my sister died, my inspiration did, too. I wondered: Would I ever laugh again? Why did my life go on when hers had been cut short?

My number on the transplant list has jumped from seventh to fourth! The phone can ring at any time. The "call" can be in an hour, a day, a week or a month. I can't sleep. And I am not afraid...

I have lost my brother, my only sibling. I miss him terribly and still love him dearly. Just once I wish he would call and ask if his mother is alive, if his sister is okay...

Today I know that I am exactly where I need to be. I also know that hidden in my current predicament are endless hidden kindnesses, and like a kid on a treasure hunt, I am hunting them out...

iFve weeks later—weeks of slow progress—my drill sergeant, eh hem, my speech therapist upped the ante and put me on a solid month of vocal rest, in an effort to reverse the damage I have inflicted on my pipes...

I held vigil by her cribside. She was too fragile to hold, but we were encouraged to talk to her and gently stroke her hand. “She knows you’re there,” the nurses helpfully said as the hours wore on. I helplessly watched the machines pump air and life into her skinny and frail body, barely the length of my forearm . . .

I am a child of Holocaust survivors. I am a living miracle and testament to the great hand of G‑d that protected my father and mother from the Nazis during World War II . . .

With my help and encouragement, they would have it all and do it all. My children would be mightily successful in becoming rich and living the good life. And then, I would be happy..It did not happen that way.

My emotional and intellectual struggle began four months ago when my dear son of 24 years unexpectedly passed away from a heart condition no one knew he had.

When I feel empty in my pain, not capable of uttering a word despite my sincere desire to pray, I think of my beloved Aunt Vera.

Studies show that gratitude has the highest connection to mental health and happiness than any other personality trait studied.

“Joy breaks all bounds,” I would repeat to my husband.