This is what life does. I’m standing at the Kotel, finally staring down my internalized homophobia, coming out to G-d and putting a prayer in the wall “Paging Miss Israel.” A plea to meet my bashert, the woman of my dreams who would, for all intents and purposes, complete me.
This is what life does. Armed with my new bravado, I brave the few “lesbian bars” in Tel Aviv. The first one was Yelped as a café, so I kill time and order dinner…and wait….and wait….as more and more straight families come in. Finally, I call the waitress over and ask, discretely, if I am in the right place. “Oh”….she says, with a knowing smile. “We’re a family café now. Try this other place”, and she writes it down. I hail a cabbie who silently drives me down a dark street, points down the ally (this is SO cliché….) and says….”Em…..you know, it’s a….. different club.” “Thank you,” I say. “I’m different.” “He gives me a funny look I interpret as “Funny, you don’t look Lesbian” and drives off.
This is what life does. Inside, it has the same dark, sad vibe as the depressing lesbian bars in LA. A few young women laughing together eye me suspiciously. I try to get the bartender’s attention – what’s the international sign for being ignored? Finally I order a gin and tonic. A woman who’s been drinking alone and definitely not my type slides over with her drink and I notice an odor: the national drink of Israel: Red Bull and vodka. She asks me what I’m drinking and if she can smell it. I give her my drink and leave.
This is what life does. Back at my hotel, the gorgeous woman working the night shift asks how my night was. Feeling awkward, I tell her a little bit about it. She wishes me goodnight. A few minutes later, she friends me on Facebook letting me know she’s gay, but just getting over her latest relationship and not available. Oy. I’d not even asked.
This is what life does. A few months later, back in LA, I get an email invitation from a Hadassah acquaintance to go to a political event in LA on women’s rights in Israel. Since I used to work for the Israeli Consulate LA, I don’t pay much attention as to the details and put it on my calendar.
This is what life does. Miss Israel of 1980 is now a women’s rights activist. Not just Miss Israel, but just elected Miss Israel of All Time. Literally. Her title is Queen of Queens. Supermodel gorgeous woman with a dazzling smile and an inner light that takes your breath away. The light comes from her Neshama. At the end of the event I introduce myself, and I’d be happy to help her cause.
This is what life does. A couple weeks later, I get an email from her forwarded to me by the wife of the current Israeli Consul General asking if we can all meet for breakfast soon to discuss working together. We meet and plan. We do events in Southern California and get to know each other. She’s wrestling with filing for divorce when her two kids finish high school soon and go off to college. Slowly we share details about our lives. Past loves and relationships. What I don’t share is my current truth. How much desperation, depression and despair I’m in. How the stress of being the sole caregiver of my parents and on guard against an older sister who only wants her inheritance combined with the soul crushing agony of knowing I am not doing what I am meant to do in this life is killing me.
This is what life does. She goes to Israel for the summer to do events and invites me to join her to continue our work. I know when G-d is handing me a lifeline and I grab it.
This is what life does. Two weeks before I am to leave, my Dad has to have emergency surgery to put in another dialysis access point, with slim odds. I find the strength to tell my Mom that no matter what happens with Dad, I’m going to Israel. They have caregivers helping now. Thankfully his surgery is a success.
This is what life does. Two days before I’m to fly to Israel, my internist notices a funky ultrasound around my heart. Water in my pericardium. He sends me to a cardiologist.
This is what life does. The cardiologist is an Orthodox Jew who is not going to stop me from flying to the Holy Land. The water is barely a thimble full and his guess is it’s most likely from an old bacterial infection. I know what it’s from. It’s the tears I have not shed from the life I have not allowed myself to lead.
This is what life does. My Hebrew birthday begins the next evening and the day before Erev Shavous: the birth of the Jewish people standing before G-d at Mt. Sinai to receive the Torah. It’s the holiday that celebrates showing up. I arrive in Israel just hours before sunset. She picks me up and I put my feet in the waters of the Mediterranean just as the sun sets and I tell her what happened and we toast my health and my birthday.
This is what life does. A decade after my prayer in the Wall, she is absolutely my bashert – but not in the way I’d prayed for. She’s my soul mate best friend, and in many ways, the guardian of my Neshama. With her and her kids, I finally have a family that loves and cares and nurtures me and I them. My heart is healed, as is my soul.
This is what life does. “You can’t always get what you want …you get what you need”. Or, as she reminds me when things seemingly go awry, G-d has other plans.
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