Summary: With the bris over, real life with Rafael begins. Tzipora continues to grapple with her conviction to live with – and understand – emunah and bitachon. A jarring incident at a secular support group helps her realize that she should not judge the way others process grief, just as she doesn’t want others to judge her. Financial matters also come to the fore. While Rafael receives free once-a-week physical therapy from Baltimore City, the family faces mounting co-pay bills for services covered by private insurance. Maryland state law did not yet recognize the needs of families with children with disabilities, and in the Jewish community, too, there was little acknowledgment of or help for disabilities. The Fragers consider moving away from Baltimore.

Life finally settled into some semblance of normalcy. My schedule, as well as that of my toddler daughter, now revolved around Rafael’s therapy sessions. I did not go back to college to finish the BA I was working on. (I had planned to become a high school history and English teacher.) I also stopped teaching limudei kodesh at Bais Yaakov and various Hebrew schools. Instead, I attended three 90-minute physical therapy sessions per week at Mt. Washington Pediatric Hospital. That was in addition to the hour of physical therapy he received from the City once a week in our home. Each physical therapist gave me homework to do with Rafael, in hopes that he would meet the first year’s physical milestones in a timely fashion.

If you are like me, you have drawers, cabinets, and closets full of “stuff” that you no longer use but can’t bring yourself to throw out. My top excuses, in no special order, are: 1) It might come in handy one day; 2) It is still in good condition; 3) It might come back into style; and 4) It brings back memories.

What’s the answer for holding on to this stuff without looking like a packrat? With a little ingenuity, you can “repurpose” these items, making treasures out of what some people think of as trash! When our great-grandmothers unraveled sweaters for the yarn, crafted fabric scraps into a quilt, or sewed a child’s jacket out of an ancient coat, it was called frugality. Most of us would consider these activities distasteful – certainly nothing to brag about. Yet today, such frugality has returned – with a twist. It is now called “repurposing,” and it is “cool.”

I grew up with a loving, sheitel-wearing mother. My mother always looked put-together. Despite raising nine kids, being “a lady” and looking beautiful for my father was priority for her. She used to tell me the story of how a certain Rebbetzin walked into our home early on in her marriage, and found her looking a bit disheveled.

The Rebbetzin scolded her. “This isn’t the way a Jewish mother looks when her husband comes home.” My mother said “But my make-up is upstairs. I can’t leave the children in the middle of everything that’s happening to put myself together.”

The wise Rebbetzin gave her sage advice: “Keep some make-up downstairs.”

When my mother told me the story, I was quite young and I didn’t really understand why it was a story. It had no plot, no climax. All I knew was that our bathroom cabinet had cosmetics in it and that, of course, who wouldn’t want to look great.

Now I realize that my mother, ever the teacher, was telling me something important. She was sharing with me wisdom of womanhood – not that you always need make-up but that your appearance matters. And it doesn’t stop mattering once you’re raising a family. It’s an integral part of your marriage and, more than that, of your self -image.

 Every job has a dress code, according to what the job is. When you dress in a lovely, put-together way as you show up for motherhood or wifehood, you’re letting the world know –you’re letting yourself know – that these jobs are important.

by Dr. Nava Miller, as told to Elaine Berkowitz

Living in Houston, we have experienced hurricanes before, but this time, since we were directly in the path of the storm, it was a little bit of a wild ride. We knew it would hit on Friday night, and because we are a little far from the shul, we had a minyan in our house for those who live near us.

Everyone was safely at home when Ike hit, late Friday night. There was a lot of lightening, and the force of the wind was so strong that it drove water into the

Imagine growing up in a home where your parent was an alcoholic or mentally ill, where your parents divorced or your father abandoned the family, where domestic abuse or arguments occurred every day, where your brother was a drug addict or your sister was disabled, where your parents lost their jobs and food was scarce, or where you yourself were abused or suffered mental or physical illness.

Children growing up in such a household – and individuals in our community have – spent their early years in a stressful and unhealthy environment, making it very difficult for them to develop or