Learning to Let Go...

...and to breathe.

Yesterday was my beloved and my seventh year wedding anniversary and today is the sixth yarzheit (day of remembrance) for my mom - i.e. the anniversary of the day she died in the Hebrew calendar. And, shockingly, this is the calmest I've been in a while.

The end of August was painful - not nearly so as the middle, but I had a blood clot scare and job drama (not yet resolved, but looking good), and each morning I would count down the days until we were scheduled to go to the circus with our littles (on Friday the 30th). Once we made it to the circus, that pretty much meant I survived. Literally and figuratively. I had great belief that once August was over, things would be brighter.

It was sometime toward the end of the last week when my husband joined me in our room and told me that he realized we had NO mezuzot (scrolls) up on almost any of our doorways in our new apartment, and that we had not had any up all month. We moved in the beginning of August.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, there is a distinct and direct connection (whether superstitious or actual) between your health and your mezuzot. They are thought to act as protection over your residence and those within; they are the anti-thesis to evil and a guard over your home.

"The very purpose of mezuzot is the protection of the house and its inhabitants."

My husband is not the superstitious type (I am) so for that to come out of his mouth meant more than anything. We had had a crap-tastic month with no mezuzot. I was quiet and shocked and he immediately said, with great resolve, "I am going to find the mezuzot tomorrow and put all of them up. We need a better month."

And so he did.

Friday was Circus Day and we had a grand time. The kids requested cotton candy (it was larger than their heads) and sat there, astounded, eyes glued to the performance. Every so often, one of them would turn to us and say in their little voices, "What in the WORLD was that!?" It was magical and still brings a smile to my face.

Immediately after it ended, I realized my phone and wallet had dropped. It's still August, I thought, devastated, knowing that Shabbat was about thirty minutes away. Security couldn't find it. I couldn't find it (even with fifteen minutes of intense searching with a baby on my hip). My husband then went to find it and came back with it in hand. RELIEF!

We walked home quickly, lit candles, ate our Shabbat meal, put the kids to bed, said our gratefuls, one of which was celebrating the end to one of the worst months of our lives.

* * *

The next afternoon, after missing for at least six months, I found my engagement ring. Randomly, on the floor, laying and twinkling at me just inside a cabinet door, like the planet hadn't just shifted beneath my bare feet.

I blinked and gently picked it up. I turned it over. It wasn't my imagination - it truly was sitting in my hand, sparkling and reflecting more than seven years of love.

Over a month prior to moving, I had shared my worst fears with hubby, that my ring was lost forever. I was even ready to says the blessing for recovering lost items (like I said, superstitious), but my husband had faith it would turn up - even dreamed that it would be found before our anniversary.

And so it did! And, yes, I've been wearing it every day since.

Immediately after finding my ring, I jumped up, ran into our room, leaped onto the bed, and woke my husband with a huge smile on my face. He shared in my joy and calmly said, "you know, it's also Elul (a new Jewish month)... and Monday is our anniversary."

I could have cried with the sheer relief of it all. The weight suddenly lifted off my shoulders.

So who cares that we now have to get up and take three kids to three separate Ganim? Who cares that we now have parental meetings and all sorts of extracurriculars to handle? Who cares that I'm remembering my mom's passing at the same time as celebrating my marriage? NOT ME.

My mom would be super happy for me. She met my husband and loved him as a match for me. She saw the ultrasound of my first baby and loved the perfect shape of his head. I have an amazing husband who takes me to the beach at night to celebrate seven years, with wine and cheese, fruit and dip, and crepes with chocolate and jam. I have three ridiculous children who smile and scream with delight every time I come home from work. I live in a lovely neighborhood with really kind friends nearby who honestly care about me. I get to keep up and share videos and photographs with my friends and family regularly because of technology. I may not be financially wealthy (yet), but I am rich because I have a full life.

It's not perfect and I'd like another baby (healthy!), but today, at the beginning of September, Elul, and the rest of our lives, I'll take it.

He's the One.

When they found out I got engaged, several people asked me how I knew that Ariel was the one for me, especially since we have only known each other since December 6, 2011 (when we started chatting on FaceBook). I'll start by saying that although living 6,000 miles (9700km) apart is extremely challenging, it provided us with the opportunity we never would have gotten... to truly learn who the other person is.

Four days after we started talking, I was interested in meeting him. For months and months, we continued talking and realized that we have so many things in common.

It's really easy for me to answer the question, "How did you know?" in my head and heart, but not so easy for me to put it into words for the questioner. Nevertheless, here is my attempt to do so.

Before I met Ariel, I had a checklist with characteristics I was looking for in a guy. I was also pretty much ready and willing to settle (since it was extremely unlikely for me to find the man I was looking for). I had come to the conclusion that there was a certain person out there that I needed, but simply wasn't sure he existed. Before quitting, I prioritized my list of needs (and threw in a few wants), knowing that some were more important, some were less important, and some would have been nice (a "bonus") if I got them but could do without them. People laughed and asked me if I planned on finding just one guy who had everything I was looking for.

But it seems that within six months of my decision to get married, I got lucky enough to find the one man in the world who has met each and every request on my list, and what an amazing man he is (he's also a really good looking guy - icing on the cake)!

He thinks like I do, has a great sense of humor, a lot of patience, and has a big heart. He comes from a big family and they are important to him. His health and fitness is a priority, as is his Judaism. He likes to learn and is chivalrous. He is kind to people, no matter who they are, and works hard. Our style and taste is extremely similar, and we both love to go hiking, camping, reading, and playing/listening to music. He is strong, opinionated, extremely intelligent, thoughtful, and oh, have I mentioned kind?

We both have open minds and interests in trying new things. We both enjoy traveling, learning about new cultures and languages, and are foodies (and drinkies; is that a word?).

I love when he holds my hand without thinking about it. I like that he has his own interests, priorities, and friends. I like that he is a goofball. I like that he accepts things about me even when he doesn't understand them. I appreciate that he encourages me to do things I love, and I love that he surrounds himself with good, quality people.

In some respects, our personalities lean in different directions. I am more practical, he is more of a romantic. He seems to have an easier time focusing than I do (or he fakes it well). I am a uber-planner, he is more spontaneous. We balance each other well.

Most of the time, we communicate well. There are times when we don't, and when we are having trouble sharing or phrasing things quite right. But we both understand the importance of it and keep working at it until we are both (reasonably) happy.

In the end, what it comes down to, is that I don't have to try with him.

Every relationship takes work, but I don't have to struggle with him. I don't have to explain my love of Judaism to him or what Hebrew/Yiddish/holidays mean. I don't have to make excuses to travel, and I'll get to learn new languages with him. We can listen to, and learn playing, music together. Not only are we on the same page, but we have been reading the same book as well.

Not only do I love the man, but I like him as well, and I believe that is more important.

He makes me want to be a better person, a better attorney, and a better Jew. I want to be his amazing wife and mother to his children. I know he feels the same way because we've discussed everything, both easy and tough.

I look forward to what the future holds for us, but right now, I'm loving the present... and the man, my other half, my b'shert, with whom I get to share it.