Relationships

I've been heavily involved in a number of "professional development" endeavors this fall. Many of them focus on topics such as "enduring understandings," or "student engagement," or "deep learning." We've talked about "backwards design," "strategies for diverse learners," "ongoing assessment" and "evidence of learning."

About midway through the fall, it occurred to me that there is/was a key element that wasn't being mentioned in these discussions. I'm still not sure whether in our search for something that will work, it was overlooked entirely or it was an unarticulated assumption. I'm hoping it was the latter; I'm suspecting it was the former.

What AM I talking about?

The keystone we need to remember in working with learners of all ages is the importance of the personal relationship the teacher/facilitator must establish with each learner in his/her group, as well as the relationships the individual group members must establish with each other.

We often get so focused on our content that we lose sight of the individuals in front of us and who they are as people - not just in their role as learners.

We try to cram so much in that we neglect to take the time to establish a relationship.

My experience indicates that by trying to "save" time by jumping into content without building the relationship, the content remains disconnected from the lives of our students.

I've done a number of training sessions in the last six months - some have been part of a series, some were single-session events. In both cases, when I have compared notes with other presenters (at single-session events, for example), one thing stands out. In the groups where the presenters have taken the time to establish a sense of community and relationships, the quality of interactions and the quantity of knowledge (measured in depth instead of breadth) are increased markedly. This shows up in exit sheets or session evaluations.

In situations where the relationship is on-going (e.g., a class or series of workshops), establishing a relationship is the first critical piece in making the environment a safe one in which people can ask questions, express their own opinions, and be open to looking at information in a new way.

I'm teaching a class of madrichim - a great group of young people. After a three-week hiatus for winter break, I wanted to provide an opportunity for us to re-connect with each other. I introduced an activity I've used with other classes, which we've typically called "Roses and Thorns." Each participant shares one positive thing that happened since we've seen each other last - and one challenge or difficulty they're dealing with. My hesitation was that sometimes this exercise can expand to fill the entire class time. And we did have so much we needed to cover that day!

I decided to use visuals as a means of helping keep us focused. However, in my stash of materials, I couldn't find a fake rose. So I used an "apple" and a "lemon" - fake food items used in decorating my succah in years past - and renamed the activity "Apples and Lemons." Students were given an option to share their thoughts or to pass. Most chose to share.

It was a wonderful experience. Holding the objects seemed to keep us all focused and our comments relatively brief. We all learned more about what's going on with each other in our "real lives." Our subsequent discussions and learning also seemed to be better focused and less "frantic." We've spent time on previous occasions sharing information with each other - but this opportunity exceeded my expectations. We'll definitely do it again.

I also taught a group of a adult learners, about half of whom are beginning their Jewish teaching experiences. The remainder of the class has significant years of experience. The challenge was to establish a sense of community so that our learning experience together is enhanced and personal. As I searched for a new "ice breaker," I settled on a think-pair-share activity in which partners described both their favorite teacher ever - AND their least favorite teacher, providing reasons for each selection. Each person shared their partner's responses with the group.

This experience, too, was a profound one for the group. Individuals connected with each other and talked one-on-one about successes and failures they'd experienced in a classroom. Partners shared abridged information with the whole group, uniformly treading gently and respectfully as they shared about their partner's difficulties with their least favorite teacher. The class as a whole learned that they share a value for certain characteristics in educational leaders - and grimmaced in empathy as people discussed the characteristics of their least favorite teacher. Subsequent discussions reached an honest depth that often doesn't occur with a group that's just beginning its work together.

Taken together - what do these experiences reinforce for me? That it's critical to spend the time developing relationships with the individuals I teach.

The old adage rings true: They [students] don't care how much you know, until they know how much you care.

Only after they know how much we care, can we help them "engage" in "enduring understandings" and "deep learning."

Sh-e-e-e-e's B-a-a-a-ck!

It's been a long time since I posted regularly - a couple of postings on Torah study sessions I facilitated this fall, but nothing regular since mid-October. If you've been checking regularly without seeing a new post, thanks for coming back. I'll see if I can post more regularly in the months ahead.

Here's are some of the topics I hope to address (in no apparent order!) in the weeks ahead:

• Relationships with learners
• The biggest challenge in establishing a madrichim program
• Is there a place for "frontal" learning?
• "Celebrating Calm" - Kirk Martin's approach to working with "intense" kids
• Book Reviews
• Using technology effectively
• "Schools that Work"
• Building community
• Professional development

Aren't we lucky? We get TWO new years to celebrate each year - a second chance to pull things together and get back on the path we'd like to be on. So here's to new beginnings!

Shabbat Veyetze

When I first read this triennial portion (31:17-32:3), my first thought was “darn” – all the good stuff is in the first two sections of the parshah: Jacob runs away, sees angels on a ladder, meets Rachel, works 7 years, marries Leah, works another 7 years, marries Rachel, works another six years, Leah has kids, Rachel wants kids, handmaidens have kids, Rachel has Joseph – and that’s before we even get to this year’s portion. As the teacher’s guide for this week’s parshah on G-dcast says,

“It’s hard to understand the significance of Vayetze without comparing it to a story of similar breadth and importance in our own culture: Gone with the Wind, for instance, or the first episode of 90210. In this parsha, we see the culmination of Abraham’s past with his future, and all his family fights; Vayetze sets the stage for all the future family battles, as well. From here, Jacob’s twelve sons will start resenting Joseph, and fighting, which will cause the entire nation of Israel to move into Egypt and become slaves…But we’re not there yet. For now, think of this as the pilot episode for what is to come.”

Question: What foreshadowing or themes do you see in this chapter?

Rabbi Aaron Pankin of the URJ, refers to the two monuments Jacob builds during this parshah – one at the beginning of the parshah, after his dream; and one at the end of the parshah [in the section we read today] as Jacob begins his journey home.

On the level of p'shat (the simple, direct meaning), these monuments serve as markers of agreements––first between Jacob and God, and then between Jacob and Laban. On a deeper level, they create timeless memorials to Jacob's vast change and growth.

Jacob builds his first monument (Genesis 28:22) immediately after his famous dream of the ladder connecting earth to heaven, when he notes God's presence in a most unexpected place. Lost and alone, Jacob is the quintessential adolescent: He is alienated from his nuclear family and in search of lasting love, somewhat misunderstood by the world, on an intense personal journey, but not yet fully able to articulate his values and commitments. He still sees the world in the binary dualities of childhood: his land versus a foreign land; heaven versus earth; Jacob versus Esau. His world is black and white, but not yet gray.

And so, Jacob arrives at his second monument in flight once again. This time Jacob's pursuer catches him, and Jacob is ready to stand up to him. This time, instead of mismanaging his human relationships and making an agreement solely with God,
Jacob reaches an agreement with Laban. This second monument represents the newly adult Jacob, who, in a more spotted, more speckled, far-grayer way, is able to maturely and honestly coexist with those around him, despite their differing ideals and desires. Jacob shows us that God is in that place, too. But this time, he knows it as an adult and gives us a powerful model for the mediation of competing ideals and desires in our own adult religious lives.

Rabbi Kerry Olitsky says:

Social psychologist and researcher Bethamie Horowitz has taught us through her work that Jewish identities are not static. Rather, like Jacob, our identities are reflective of our journeys. They continue to evolve throughout our lives. And the shortcoming of research is that it usually only gives us a snapshot of the population under study at any one moment in time. As a result, it is difficult to draw conclusions for the future from them.

Question: How do we see Jacob's behavior/identity evolve during this parshah?

Rabbi Brad Artson, of the American Jewish University, asks:

How, despite the difficulties and the disappointments [of his life in Haran], did [Jacob] manage to keep on keeping on?

For Jacob that question became especially poignant as he left the home of his father in law, Laban. Having worked for fourteen years for his two wives, Leah and Rachel, and another six years for a share in Laban’s flocks of sheep, Jacob sees twenty years living in a foreign land, away from his cherished Israel, and away from his family and his childhood haunts. Only after the fact could Jacob allow himself to see the enormity of his struggle and the extent of his own inner exile and transformation.

In Chapter 31:42, Jacob responds to Laban’s statement that everything Jacob took with him was due to Laban’s generosity. "Had not the God of my father, the God of Abraham and the Fear of Isaac, been with you, you would have sent me away empty-handed. But God took notice of my plight and the toil of my hands, and He gave judgement last night." (Etz Hayim translation)

The phrase, “had not the God of my father…” coming at the beginning of the sentence is an unusual grammatical construct. Rabbi Artson quotes three understandings of the phrase which help answer the question, How did Jacob manage to keep on keeping on?

Ancestral merit is an awareness of being connected to those who preceded us. It is found in cherishing our traditions by living them in our daily lives and by transmitting them to our children and to their children. It is a sense of identity that involves the continuing stream of Jewish people, starting with Abraham and Sarah, continuing through ourselves, and extending to each new generation of Jews. The goodness of his ancestors gave him his sense of purpose, his vision of what could be, and the ability to work toward that distant goal.

Kiddush ha-Shem, the sanctification of God, is an awareness of spirituality and the importance of making God’s presence and love a pervasive part of our consciousness and our lives. Through prayer, contemplation, song, dance, meditation, and study, we sanctify God by focusing our minds, hearts, and souls on our sacred source. Acting in a way that reflects positively on God, motivated our patriarch to live up to his ideals, to walk in God’s ways even during times of sorrow, want, and fear.

Faith and Torah translate into a devotion to the mitzvot, the 613 commandments of the Torah as understood, amplified, and defined through rabbinic interpretation (drashot) and legislation (takkanot). By regularly acting out the deep wisdom of Jewish values through concrete actions, Judaism provides a pedagogy of hands and feet, a spirituality of pots and pans, a sense of fidelity to God that extends to every aspect of our lives. Jacob was inspired by his sense of God’s presence in his life, the pervasive holiness made concrete through the mitzvot, the sacred commandments that link the Jew and God.

On those three legs, ancestral merit, sanctification of God, Torah and mitzvot, Jewish life is assured and our Jewish lives are enriched. Holiness, wisdom, and belonging are within our grasp, able to sustain and to nurture us through life’s trials, even as they did for our patriarch, Jacob.

Or, as Esther D. Kustanowitz at G-dcast sums it up: "As Jacob learned: sometimes you have to leave home to find it."

I guess it wasn't such a "dull" section of the parshah, after all!

Shabbat Noach

Earlier this week, I was trying to get caught up on some of my internet reading and I happened across a blog written by a friend and colleague on Jewish Family Living. The questions she posed for families reading her blog focused on words. One in particular resonated with me: Why do you think God names things? What is the importance of a name?

I began to think of the names – the labels – we apply to the children we work with (whether our own children, or someone else’s) and the profound impact the use of those names can have on the individuals so addressed. I also was reminded anew how the use of names/labels – even when used privately, in my own mind and never spoken aloud – affects how I view a particular student. “Motor-mouth,” “whiner,” “naysayer” – all carry a connotation that’s best not even allowed to enter my mind.

Labels applied in frustration, anger or fatigue color my perspective indelibly. How much more positive are interactions with students that I describe as “eager,” “sensitive,” or “cautious.”

Those were the thoughts that framed my view of this week’s parshah. Beginning with “This is the line of Noach…” through the story of the world around him, his building the ark, the flood, the receding waters, the covenantal sign of the rainbow, the Tower of Babel, the listing of generations to the birth of Abram, and ending with the death of Terah (Abram’s father) in Haran. There’s a wealth of commentary on the story of Noah. Much less is readily accessible (ie, available online) on the remainder of the parshah.

This year’s triennial portion is Chapter 11 of B’reisheit. It begins with the words: Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.

We know from our studies that repetitions are like flashing lights which say, “Pay attention to me!” I wonder why the repetition of “language” and “words.” They seem to mean the same thing. How are they the same? And how are they different?

The Big Question for this story seems to be “What’s so bad about building a Tower?” And in fact, our text never gives an explicit answer to this question.

Chapter 11:8 Let us build us a city, and a tower with its top to the sky, to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world.

God, in essence, then says, “Well, if that’s how you’re going to behave, then I’ll scatter you anyway.”

But it doesn’t really say what specifically God was objecting to – building a city; building a tower; building a tower to the sky; or making a name for themselves. That’s called “Missing Information,” and all commentators can do is try to fill the gaps.

And so, over the course of time, a variety of “explanations” have been suggested:

• Rabbi Boruch Leff: When man can accomplish all that he wishes to accomplish, he does not need God. Witness that they left 'from the east.' The previous reference to 'the east' was to the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2:8). They wished to leave the closest possible place to God that existed then and wanted to forge their own destiny without God's assistance. They wished to build a unifying city and tower but specifically wanted to begin the building in a valley. Although the usage of a hill or mountain would facilitate making the tower as high as possible, they didn't want to use anything natural or 'God-made'. There was no room for God's involvement in their project.
• Louis Ginzburg, Legends of the Jews; "Come, let us build us a city and a tower." Many, many years were spent building the tower. It reached so great a height that it took a year to mount to the top. A brick was, therefore, more precious in the sight of the builders than a human being. If a man fell down and met his death, none took notice of it; but if a brick dropped, they wept, because it would take a year to replace it. So intent were they upon accomplishing their purpose that they would not permit a woman to interrupt her work of brickmaking when the hour of travail came upon her. Moulding bricks, she gave birth to her child, and tying it round her body in a sheet, she went on moulding bricks.
• Rabbi Matt Carl: The Torah indicates a second problem with Babel-esque development. It says that the people built the tower "to make a name for ourselves (Genesis 11:3-4).'" The builders had reputation and status on their agenda. The midrash adds that cultivating a reputation, "a name," is usually accompanied by inequality at the deepest level. Nimrod's project required enslavement of his people and abject inequality, all in the service of ego, arrogance and narcissism.
• Rabbi Avi Geller (in The Lively Parshah overview) writes: The descendants of Noah all decided to live together in the great valley of Babel. They appointed the first dictator and all spoke the same language (Hebrew, according to tradition). They then decided to wage war on their Creator. "We will build a Tower to ascend Heaven and battle the Almighty!"
  
  Others explain that they denied God's Hand in the Flood, and saw it simply as a quirk of nature. Thus it was imperative to build supports for the Heavens, to insure that they don't fall down again!

Most of these “explanations” – attempts to fill in “missing information” - are more or less familiar to many of us. I found none of them particularly satisfying to me, at this point in my life, in the year 5770.

I kept hearing the echo in my mind from verse 1 of this chapter: Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words.

Words … scrambled languages…. failure to communicate …

Within the recent past, in my professional life, there have been several instances in which communication between individuals became terribly mangled – feelings were hurt; frustration experienced; anger expressed at perceived slights.

Words….in the same language…scrambled meanings … failure to communicate

And then I stumbled across these words from Arthur Koestler, a prolific writer in 20th century Europe, a secular Jew, and recipient of the Sonning Prize at the University of Copenhagen in 1968 for “outstanding contribution to European culture.”

Language promotes communication and understanding within the group, but it also accentuates the differences in traditions and beliefs between groups; it erects barriers between tribes, nations, regions, and social classes. The Tower of Babel is an archetypal symbol of the process that turns the blessing into a curse and prevents man from reaching into heaven. According to Margaret Mead, among the two million aborigines in New Guinea, 750 different languages are spoken in 750 villages, which are at permanent war with one another.

As much as we focus on being part of one huge melting pot – or tossed vegetable salad, depending on your current frame of reference – sometimes our biggest misunderstandings arise when what I hear is not what you meant, even if I understand the words that you used. Our meanings become “babbled,” if not the actual words themselves.

So, for me, the message behind the Tower of Babel is to be mindful of the words I use – and to check for understanding as carefully in English as I do when I speak to my non-English-speaking friends.

Shabbat shalom.

Book Review: Toolbox for Teachers and Mentors

Earlier this summer, a colleague sent me a link to a new book that he thought might be of interest to me. I scanned the review, ordered it, and added it to my pile of "books I really should read sooner rather than later." It's a great stack of books and currently includes the following:

• Isa Aron's The Self-Renewing Congregation: Organizational Strategies for Revitalizing Congregational Life
• Olitzky & Sabath's Striving Toward Virtue: A Contemporary Guide for Jewish Ethical Behavior
• Rabbi Levi Meier's Seven Heavens: Inspirational Stories to Elevate Your Soul
• Sedlar & Miners' Don't Retire, REWIRE!
• Just ASK's Strategies in Action
• Paula Rutherford's The 21st Century Mentor's Handbook

Given the fact that much of my work so far this academic year has been focusing on working with madrichim and their supervising teachers, I bumped Richard and Elaine Solomon's Toolbox for Teachers and Mentors to the top of my list.

I'm glad I did!

It's a fairly easy read, since much of the "teaching" is done in the form of a dialogue between madrichah (about to become co-teacher on her way to being a novice teacher) and mentor. Educationalese is translated into English (I'm not as well versed in educationalese as I might be); pragmatic examples for a Jewish educational setting are provided (either day school or supplemental school); there are charts and forms to use in helping to categorize or plan out specific strategies.

As I was reading, and thinking.... and then reading and thinking some more.... the thought occured that this could well be a handbook or source text if we ever were able to get our Midrashah L'Morim program going again. There are also huge segments that we could use in our regional training programs for beginning/novice teachers. The only area I think gets a little short-shrift is the area of learning disabilities - although they do a good job of presenting learning differences and multiple intelligences.

The challenge for me, now, is to go back and engage in some of the exercises the Solomons suggest for their teachers-in-training in order to see if I can plug what I'm doing into the format they suggest. If I can do that, it will make it easier for me to teach others to do so.

My specific challenge? I get stuck on the words "enduring understanding" and "essential questions." I know why I think what I'm teaching is important, but have trouble articulating that importance in that specific terminology. HELP!

The book is excellent. I highly recommend it for schools looking to start a mentoring program for older madrichim; for those that have frequent staff turnover and want to provide novice teachers with a solid foundation; and for teachers who have agreed to mentor others. And it's available through Amazon.

Addendum: After writing this piece, I happened to mention to my daughter that I was struggling to articulate an enduring understanding for the madrichim course. She looked at me quizzically and said, "That's easy."

"Huh?" I responded.

She paused a moment and said, " 'All students learn differently.' That's your enduring understanding."

"Doesn't it have to include something about teaching or Jewish Ed?" I asked.

"No," she responded firmly. "All students learn differently. That's why you teach what you teach."

"Oh," I answered humbly. And then demanded: "How do you know thus stuff?"

"I took an ed course in college. Even though it was taught horrendously, I did learn stuff."

In the words of Yehuda haLevi: Much I have learned from my teachers, more from my colleagues, but most from my students. Substitute "daughter" from "students" and that describes it perfectly!

End-of-the-Holidays: A Look Ahead

So what might the new year bring? "What changes can I effect to improve myself and the world I live in?" That's one of the key questions of the Fall Holiday liturgy.

In early September, I went to see my internist for a long-overdue general physical (about 3 years overdue). As we reviewed my general health and he began to order some tests and referrals (also long overdue), it dawned on me that I'd spent the last decade focusing on other family members' health and other concerns, and continuously deferred my own. (Except for the gall bladder surgery - and the sleep apnea diagnosis).

My doctor is very direct - and doesn't believe in spreading guilt or mincing words. How he is able to accomplish those two things at the same time, I will never know. But I admire him immensely for his ability to do so and am a grateful recipient of his expertise. He's also an excellent diagnostician, has a superb group of specialists he refers out to, and does a great job of serving as "case manager."

So when he looks me in the eye and says, "You've got some things to pay attention to," I sit up straight and listen.

BP - very high; LDL cholesterol is high; HDL is too low; blood sugar numbers are in the "glucose intolerance" range. He also gives me a referral to a gastroenterologist for a colonoscopy, and to a radiologist for a mammogram (long overdue, especially with my history). He prescribes a BP med, vitamin D, recommends the Mediterranean Diet, exercising, and we schedule several follow-up visits in order to monitor progress.

My dentist tells me I need dental work done.

My ophthalmologist has me scheduled for my second cataract surgery and toric implant surgery on October 14th.

I leave their offices feeling vulnerable. A little angry. Guilty for letting things get to this point.

I cling to two thoughts: my dad's favorite saying: You can't control the cards you're dealt, you can only control how you play 'em. And my internist's final comment: Change what you can - diet, exercise - but realize that part of your health and these numbers are determined by genetics. You can't control genetics.

Both are helpful - they have become my mantra.

So, changes I can make:

• We've joined a CSA (Consumer Supported Agriculture group) for the fall season and will get a share of fresh vegetables each Monday to use in building our meals around.
• I picked up a couple of cook books and have scanned the internet for recipes that are both kosher and fit the Mediterranean Diet.
• I've begun to do a little walking - got thrown off base by Yom Kippur but will get back to it.
• I'm using my CPAP machine for my sleep apnea a little more consistently - my goal is to use it 5 nights out of 7.
• I've determined to pick up my knitting needles again.
• Before I leave a doctor's office, I schedule my next appointment.
• I had my colonoscopy - even if it was my first child's 28th birthday!
• I've decided to jetison the "guilt" thing - I was busy with other people's health issues these past 10 years - and that's okay. It's done. Now it's time to take care of my own - and that's also okay.

Other changes the new year offers:

I'm teaching a course (training madrichim) at the very first synagogue I ever attended services at - where I converted with Rabbi Gene Lipman, z'l, and where my husband and I joined. Many warm and wonderful memories - it's interesting to be "on staff" there. So far, I'm loving it!

I'm also doing a series of madrichim workshops at a synagogue where I had taught for 8 years and directed for 2 years. Our "classroom" is the library, where we used to have senior staff meetings. I was surprised that there were parents who still remembered me - I left there almost eight years ago - a lifetime in a supplemental school setting!

[Note: my husband's taken to calling this year "The year that Mary revisits her roots"!]

I'm part of a planning committee that's working on our regional training in November. We're drastically changing the way we'll do things. More about that later, as things evolve.

I'm leading two Torah study sessions in the next two months: Shabbat Noach at Tikvat Israel and Shabbat Vayeshev at Oseh Shalom.

Next weekend, we celebrate the 70th birthday of a dear friend - someone who's been a mentor and helped sustain me through many of the challenges the last decade presented. Without her loving and caring, it would have been much more difficult than it was.

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven" (Eccl 3:1)

End-of-the-Holidays: Reflections on the Past

For many of us, this time of year is filled with introspection, reviewing the past year and looking forward to the coming year. Some years, moreso than others. This has been one of those seasons for me.

I realized as some point in the middle of the holiday liturgy that this last decade has been a most difficult one for us. Beginning in January 2000, here's an abbreviated chronology:

• January 2000 - a dear aunt died after heart surgery
• February 2000 - my mother-in-law died unexpectedly in her sleep
• Spring 2000 - trying to help one child find the "right" college, all while
  grieving his grandmother
• Spring 2000 - one child is grappling with clinical depression
• September 2001 - one child leaves for college
• September 2001 - September 11th - particularly close to home for those of us in the greater Washington DC area. Almost every family I worked with at that time was impacted directly - or had a co-worker who was.
• September 2002 - our second child leaves for college; I began a new job
• October 2002 - the Washington area sniper struck - six victims were killed within five miles of our house
• January 2003 - I was "let go" from my job (first time ever! Two weeks before my 50th birthday)
• June 2003 - began a job as interim religious school director
• May 2004 - one child graduates from college; is unable to find a job
• July 2004 - gall bladder surgery
• July 2004 - my mother's health continues to decline; she becomes a recluse
• Spring 2005 - one child developes a health condition, which results in a 10-day period of hospitalization
• May 2005 - second child "walked" across the stage; graduation pending completion of several credits
• November 2006 - auto accident: hit head on, car totaled; walked away with "only" a broken toe and some mobility issues
• November 2006 - second child returns home, needing to complete some coursework by January
• Winter-Spring 2007 - child's health problems increase
• June 2007 - leave job and open my consulting business
• Winter 2007-08 - child hospitalized twice
• September 07 - my father has emergency surgery; does not go well; hospitalized for almost 2 weeks
• Summer 08 - mom's dementia is constant; losing weight; my father struggles
• Winter 08-09 - my father-in-law meets a new health challenge; we feel helpless to assist
• December 09 - mom goes into home hospice care
• February 09 - mom goes into a nursing home for hospice care
• April 09 - spend a week with my dad and mother - dementia is total; there's no time but "right this instant" - the strain on my father is worrisome
• June 09 - my mother dies - her death a release for all
• August 09 - I have cataract surgery on one eye (second eye scheduled for 10/14)
• September 09 - a friend of my son's from college days dies unexpectedly - from an infection picked up in the hospital. We are shell-shocked.

There have been some blessings along the way: children both graduated from college, both currently gainfully employed in jobs they like and which allow them to contribute to the communal weal; I find that my consulting business is doing well - I'm grateful for the colleagues who support me; my husband and I have celebrated 31 years of marriage - and we're still going strong! My mother's death has provided a release for many of us. It was good to spend time with my brothers and sisters-in-law when we were home for the funeral. I've been involved in starting a non-profit tzedakah organization; and currently sit on the board of another (educational) nonprofit. My child's health appears to have stabilized - and we're all rejoicing about that! Cousins' children get married - it's nice to gather for something other than funerals! We've found a place we dream about retiring to... and anticipate that the best is yet to come. We traveled to Israel.... and are determined to return. Our finances, which took a hit because of high medical costs and job changes, are beginning to stabilize and improve. Perhaps most importantly, all four of us are working -- the three of them full-time and me part-time.

In the listing of our challenges (above), I am struck by two things: 1) how truly my husband and I fit the profile as members of the "sandwich" generation; and 2) that the feelings of being overwhelmed and/or sad that I sometimes have stem from reasonable causes.

Some thoughts on looking ahead tomorrow.