By now you have heard me tell the story of your first year in life 10,000 times. You challenged me then and you still challenge me now. However, I look at these challenges differently. I see how you have made me stronger and smarter and I want to thank you for that. Since you were totally resistant to sleeping for the first 12 months of your life, I use to walk for miles with you in a baby bjorn attached to the front of me. I will always remember how you searched the sky and trees with those big beautiful brown eyes. You looked genuinely fascinated by the world around you. Now you watch the Discovery Channel still searching for new experiences this world may have in store for you.
I also started reading to you practically from the day you were born. I loved reading to you because you paid such close attention to the pictures and the sound of my voice. I was convinced you understood every word. You were only about 6 or 7 months old when you started turning the pages of the books as I read. In the beginning I would say “turn the page” at the appropriate time, but it did not take long for you to simply know the right moment and begin turning the page as soon as I finished reading it. When I saw you turning the pages with out me having to ask, I knew I had a smart little baby on my hands. Today we are turning another page together.
What does your becoming a Bar Mitzvah mean to me, your mother, the woman who brought you into this world and who loves you more than words can say? I have fulfilled a dream by bringing a bright wonderful Jewish man into the world. Growing up I wanted to help my people continue to exist because I was so painfully aware that our very existence was a fragile gift. I could not think of a better way to honor the memory of the family I never knew who perished in the Holocaust than to bring another Jewish life into this world. I was lucky to have one Bubbie, but knew so many other children who had 4 grandparents. You have been blessed with five grandparents, a literal bonanza of unconditional love, not to mention your wonderful Uncles and Aunts. And today they are all here to be with you as you become a Bar Mitzvah. Your Bar Mitzvah also has a special meaning for me in that I am able to share it with my mother Becky who will be 90 this July. It was a promise I made to her when you were born that she would be here to see you become a Bar Mitzvah and she is.
I have put a lot of pressure on both myself and on you to make a difference in this world. I know it is important for you to become a well educated and successful adult, but a meaningful life must include much more than that. You are such an intelligent young man with so much potential. You have an opportunity to truly make this world a better place. I hope on your journey you will discover the way to happiness is by following your dreams and finding that by making other people’s lives better, you automatically enrich your own life.
The value of the life we make is a question of quality and not quantity. It is not about how many friends you have, but how good, dependable, and caring the friends you do have are. It is not how much money you have, but how you use your money to make a better life not just for yourself, but for those you love and those in need. I want you to know I will think of you as a great success if you become a kind, responsible and generous adult who respects everyone regardless of their status or position in this world.
Another one of my favorite memories from when you were a small child was your love for animals. There were early signs you would become an animal lover. When I would take you for long walks in your stroller, the mere sight of a dog would make you point and kick your feet because it made you so happy. You loved going to the Zoo and the Aquarium and still do. I am not surprised you picked helping an animal shelter as your mitzvah project. You have a way with animals and a truly kind heart. And it is both your intelligence and your kindness I am hoping will become the qualities you will carry with you into adulthood.
I remember when as a little girl I would sit next to my father in synagogue playing with the strings on his talit and loving the feeling of the soft strings between my fingers while listening to the congregation chanting in words I did not understand but felt resonating deep inside me. Today, you are wearing your father’s talit and I keep thinking how lucky we as a people are to have those strings to bind us to a rich history of perseverance and purpose. Those strings are a tie not only to our shared Jewish history, but to the ties that bind our family. And you come from a family with a long history of not only surviving the unthinkable but having the strength and courage to keep moving forward. I hope you will always remember and respect the past and feel a responsibility for creating a better future for yourself, your family and the Jewish community.
I love you, and I know I am going to respect the man you are becoming.
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