Life changing. 

If I was limited to only two words, those are the words I choose to describe Israel. 

The change started when I was invited to tour Israel with the American Jewish Press Association. I have not been out of the country since I was 14 and never had my own passport. I hoped my husband could go, but his work schedule did not allow it. 

That meant I would be going to a different country thousands of miles away. Alone. 

I didn't know anyone on the tour. I didn't know anyone in Israel. 

Truth: I was nervous. But not enough to miss this kind of an opportunity. 

I wasted a lot of energy worrying about whether my passport would arrive on time. Of course, it did. As my travel date approached, I felt nervous again. What if I got sick? What if someone in the family got sick while I was gone? What would it be like? What should I pack? 

The translation, of course, is that I'm a closet control freak and there would be a lot of things out of my control. 

I let them go and focused on packing. 

Because the Israel Ministry of Tourism sponsored our tour, we were offered opportunities to see and do things that most people would not be able to do - at least not in the week or so we have been here. 

I connected with history in a way I never imagined. 

I got lost (fortunately, with a colleague) in the Old City of Jerusalem. We had a "map" that was not the most accurate device. I hate getting lost, but we just kept walking. 

A young man from one of the shops in the marketplace helped us find our bearings. He was one of the first to do so without insisting on shekels first, so I asked him whether he had scarves in his shop - which he did. He wanted us to see his brother's jewelry shop around the corner, so we followed and spent nearly an hour looking at the lovely designs, talking with them about their life in Israel and purchasing some of their wares. 

They offered us coffee or tea, which we gently refused - but then one of them said in his culture, it's important to receive hospitality when it is offered. So we accepted and were treated to a delightful cup of tea with mint leaves. 

If we hadn't been lost, we never would have met them. Yes, they were selling but they were also open to talking about their culture. 

I lost my fear of people I don't know - OK, so it's not fear, but it's a general discomfort that I can hide pretty well. I've gotten to know some of my colleagues and I feel like we're old friends after traveling together for so many hours and miles. 

Like I said, Israel changed me. 

Yesterday I checked three things off my bucket list. Things I figured I'd never do because I was really afraid to do two of them. 

We went to a reef in Eilat, a beautiful resort area on the Red Sea, to swim with dolphins. Not just swim - dive. As in put on a wetsuit, mask, tank, weights, flippers and all those good things and gracefully descend into the water. I have snorkeled before, and love it. Getting used to only taking air through my mouth from a tank was a little unsettling. My teacher was a patient man who spoke calmly to me when I became impatient with myself. Meanwhile, the dolphins circled around us. I'm pretty sure they were laughing at me.

 

I finally relaxed and we descended 15 or 20 meters. I faced my fear and did it in Israel. 

Like I said, it changed me. 

A couple of hours later, I was high in the Eilat Mountains on the back of a camel. She was a lovely, soft creature with long eyelashes and a mellow attitude. It was more exciting than scary - I have ridden a horse before and I think it was more comfortable on the camel. Truthfully, it may have been faster to walk. But we were on camels! In the mountains! The only sound was the padding of their feet on the rocky soil, occasional laughter or conversation, and the wind whispering the secrets of the ages as we ascended the mountain. 

After our ride, we gathered in a tent and enjoyed Bedouin-style hospitality. A young man served us tea and bread, both cooked over an open fire. Several ibex came down the mountain to check us out. We relaxed and enjoyed each other's company. 

Then our host talked us into staying for the newly established "adventure course" - a complicated maze of ropes and zip lines. I said, no, I would watch the others and learned again that when hospitality is offered in Israel, it must be accepted. 

Five minutes later, I was wearing a helmet and my legs, waist and rear end were wrapped up in a belt. I ascended a ladder to the first part of the course - truthfully only 20 feet or so off the ground - and stopped. 

I was finished. I said, "Thank you," and started to go back down the ladder. 

Our host - and my supportive colleagues - cheered me on, urging me to keep going. One deep breath and I was on my way across the rope, and then across another and then it was time for the zip line. 

I held my breath, wrapped my hands around the ropes holding me up, sat back and jumped. 

I never, ever thought I would do something like that. I felt like a little kid again (although I probably would have been too scared to try it when I was a kid.)

 

Inside, I realized that most of what holds us back is our own thought patterns. 

I had to go to Israel to figure out how to let mine go. And now, I'm ready to take on the world! 

Israel is more than history. It's more than politics. It's a vibrant, growing country with more opportunities than anyone can imagine, with strong, interesting, open people. 

I love it here and can't wait to come back. 

Thank you, Israel! 

Memories are the warp and weft, a weave of random moments that make up the whole

Twenty-five years.

A quarter of a century.

My "babies" celebrate this landmark birthday today. I keep thinking that is not possible.

I was almost 25 when they were born, and that was last year—OK, it seems like last year. Time seems to fold into itself as it passes, making it possible for me to look into their eyes and see them as men, teenagers, toddlers, infants. All at the same time.



It bothers me when I am not with them on their birthday, and this is one of those years. Their dad and I missed seeing them over the weekend because everyone had a different schedule. A couple of us are traveling starting today and into next week, so we are putting off the official commemoration for a couple of weeks.

My husband and I are celebrating our boys in our own way today, playing "Remember when…?" via phone, text and email. Silver and gold threads of memories run through my mind, becoming the warp and weft of our sons' life tapestries—a weave of random moments that make up a beautiful, dynamic whole.

Here are a few of the images that came up in our conversation:

Hey, I know that guy: One nearly inconsolable newborn who quieted within a minute of being tucked in next to his sleeping twin on their first day at home.

Shopping saga: A young (haggard) mom pushing a grocery cart filled to the top and then some, a 3-year-old seated in the front. She drags another cart behind her that contains two baby carriers (and two babies).

Thumbs up: Two babies laying on a blanket on the living room floor and sucking each other's thumbs.

Double choking phenomenon: When one baby gagged on delicious wallpaper paste-like cereal or tasty ground up peas, his twin would gag as well—even though he wasn't eating anything at that particular moment.

Fashion by the foot: Combining two pairs of miniature Chuck Taylor high tops, one turquoise and one yellow—hey, it was the 80s—so the boys' shoes "matched," only on opposite feet.

Home sweet home: A four-year-old boy announces that he is NEVER getting married. Mom: "Why not?" Son: "Because I'm going to live with you FOREVER!"

Then there are the memories that became trophies on the mantel of family legend:

Call the cops: After a multiple-mile hike on the bluffs of Devil's Lake, Wis., on a hot summer day, a tired dad tucks an exhausted toddler under each arm to make the trek to the car. One is practically asleep by the time they get to the parking lot, but the other has more hiking to do and starts yelling, "Help me! Help me!" at the top of his lungs. Parents are grateful that people in the park laugh rather than call the police.

Blacktopped: The 3-year-old who knocked his front teeth loose after a fall on the driveway and then told the dentist, "I got blacktop on my teef." The dentist polished his teeth to shiny white—and they eventually tightened up.

Logic from the left: Although one boy was scolded for doing something, the brother—who was in the room at the time—would do exactly the same thing. Parent: "Why did you do that when I just told your brother not to?" Offending child: "But you didn't tell ME not to do it."

More logic from the left: "Why should I take hair advice from a guy who has none?" Said to the follicly challenged father, ending a passionate discussion about household hairstyling requirements—and providing amusement to the father nearly a decade later.

Blowin' in the wind: The dad drives past an 80-foot Norway pine on his way home and notices the branches swaying near the top. He stops, opens the car window and looks—realizing that the swaying is due to the presence of  a 6- or 7-year-old son who climbed the tree "because he wanted to put a piece of tape at the top."

Birthdays are celebrations, but they are also mile markers—indicating where we have been and who we have become.

Happy birthday, A and E. Your mom and dad are always with you, wherever you might be.