My Sister, My Twin: An Ingathering of Exiles: A Story of Spiritual and Racial Reconciliation

By Saundrah Clark Grevious

Judaism and Christianity converge in the lives and experiences of Tamara and Tara Jacobs. Witness how the Lord, the God of the universe, strengthens His little ones to not only participate in but to become leaders in the ingathering of exiles from all over the world….beginning with the adult members of their own family. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Interalian
• Release date: Apr 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9780989974509

Book preview

THAT IT MAY BE WELL WITH THEE IN THE LAND HEAR, O ISRAEL: THE LORD OUR GOD, THE LORD IS ONE. And thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart, and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thou house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thy hand, and they shall be for frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the door-posts of thy house, and upon thy gates.

Deuteronomy 6: 1-9

THE WAY OF A MOTHER

What is a mother if not one whose bosom swells to nourish her young? What is a mother if not one whose every moment is consumed by the fate of the members of her family? Her time is well-spent in the presence of each little life to educate, to correct, to prepare for the bigger world. A mother laughs with, talks with, and sings with her children. Her eyes take in dangers unseen by those she loves, and in seeing she diverts the danger and absorbs the blows rather than have her young offspring experience the perils of life. A mother’s heart swells with gratitude to the God of her fathers who bestows upon her alone the gift of motherhood. Blessing her with faith in Him, God alone allows her to wrap each of her little ones in the humility of eternal, maternal love. And when she has to watch her little ones leave the nest, a true mother never forgets the Way of a Mother.

Saundrah Clark Grevious

THE WISDOM OF CHILDREN

When society has gone beyond the boundaries of hatred to the brink of total annihilation of the human species, when the human spirit dies anew with each headline confirming man’s inhumanity towards man, it is the weak who stand strong and the young who become wise. The young have inside them uncontaminated seeds of peace, the purity of heart, the freshness of will, and the proximity to all things necessary for jumpstarting processes of goodwill. Somehow, the young reveal wisdom as their elders sink within the mire of adversity and spread spiritual deadness. Hope lies within the hearts of the young who are not afraid to sing their songs of love to strangers in the land of their Father.

Saundrah Clark Grevious

EVERLASTING LOVE

"Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh.

Is there anything too hard for Me?

Behold, I will gather them out of all countries

where I have driven them in My anger,

in My fury, and in great wrath;

I will bring them back to this place,

And I will cause them to dwell safely.

They shall be My people, and I will be their God;

Then I will give them one heart and one way,

that they may fear Me forever, for the good

Of them and their children after them."

Jeremiah 32:27, 37-39

The room was warm and cozy as if someone had drawn a blanket of wool around the entire house insulating it from the cold March winds. As she lay quietly on her bed, the moon sent shafts of light through the window pane. And the contrast of the bright beams piercing the darkness of the room cast Tara into a waking nighttime dream. A dreamer from as long as she could remember, the quietness and the warmth of Tara’s bedroom invited peaceful meditation, pleasant memories of family experiences, and sometimes unsettling waking and sleeping musings about her future, her identity, or life itself.

Despite the coldness outside, Tara imagined that she could feel a soft, fragrant summer breeze silently blowing the chiffon curtains just as she settled into the deepest part of her waking dream. Hovering between wakefulness and sleep, Tara’s mind searched to discover a secret that would reveal who she really was and why she existed. Though not a word had been spoken of it, somewhere in the far reaches of her heart Tara knew that there was a magnificent mystery she was destined to know.

On the brink of womanhood, she would confirm her readiness to take on the responsibilities of a woman of the Jewish faith. Twelve-year-old Tara Rose Jacobs would begin her walk into adulthood by standing before her family and friends as a Woman-of-the-Commandment at her Bat Mitzvah Ceremony.

The increasing weight of adulthood was already replacing the carefree concerns of childhood as questions regarding her future loomed.

Am I ready for high school, college, or a career? Am I ready to date, or become a wife and a mother? How can I use my faith in Yahweh to help others? Tara was sure that this last question signaled her life’s focus. Then, she drifted off to sleep and dreamed of Matthew.

He was really cute and his dark eyes had focused on her more than once. When he passed by her on the way to his seat in math class, her heart raced and she thought about how nice it would be if he held her hand. Shivering as cold waves of fear suggested forbidden territory, Tara used self-chastisement...a young girl’s anecdote…her much-tested remedy.

I don’t even know him and I’m not ready to be anyone’s girlfriend or wife. I’m too young. Sometimes this helped Tara to forget and other times it was hours before she could get Matthew off her mind. In that she didn’t understand what it meant to be in love or act on its demands, she was usually successful in chiding herself to consider other, more important things…like the need to set priorities. There would be plenty of time for dating. She shouted: First things have to be in first place!

Above all, Tara was not only a dreamer but an observer of experiences in life that prompted her to analyze her identity and set goals for her future. Even as she slept, Tara used a spiritual lens through which she viewed, analyzed, and filtered her own personal reactions to her life experiences. This contributed to her unusually mature perspectives on her Jewish faith, adult society, and natural and supernatural phenomena. The bright light of her spiritual lens first presented then magnified truth in all these things for this precocious child’s consumption.

Her close observations of something as small as an oak leaf held for Tara a world of evidence regarding not only the sources of plant life but human life as well. She was intrigued by a tree’s root connections that sustained the trunk that held the branches that supported the stems that held the leaves that fed the fruit that produced the life-bearing seeds.

Tara saw the veins in the leaves as proof that human life also had root systems… sources of life that symbolized her connections to all other people on earth and verified that they were all related to one another. Thus, her uncertainties, unanswered questions, and rare insights into sources of human conflict consumed this young girl. Even as she dreamed of someday finding peaceful solutions to hate, violence, and war, daily reports of clashes among the different races and cultures of people created doubt. But, she was destined to try…especially with the support of her loving parents.

Whether it was daydreams or nighttime excursions into her mind’s occupations, Tara’s vivid imagination took her back and forth in time. Although her present life was great, she consciously planned to base her adult goals on the great things about the history of her people. Judaism as her faith and as a force in society would surely help direct her course. So, Tara sprinkled sobering truths gleaned from Torah over her hopes and dreams and applied lessons learned from her parents and teachers.

Tara’s leanings towards good grew richer in the creative fertility of her bedroom. On her nightstand, copies of Torah and the Talmud lay open as ready references. Her near-perfect recall complemented her love of words and her developing skill in using them to create story and poetic imagery. In this special place, she had developed her strategic formula for peace. Tara had plans for bringing reluctant adults into the process lest some try to negate or splatter dark shadows over her dreams and send her spiraling off course. She knew that her Momma and Poppa would confirm and spread bright light over her peace formula because they had devoted their lives to helping others. Tara trusted their wisdom.

Thus, like her parents, Tara sought divine direction and tried to interpret her realities by the sovereign truth of Torah teachings. Here in this sacred book she found sustaining spiritual truths. Here in Torah she was given firm ground to stand on as she closely observed and absorbed lessons from encounters with grownups. Immersed in God’s Word, Tara was even more aware of her own imperfections and began to examine and purify her motives. And so, knowing herself rather than judging others would be her first priority.

Subsequently, Tara was compelled to extract valuable lessons from her dreams and evaluate whether or not they converged with Torah Truth. If so, she could proceed with her objectives believing that they were divinely directed. She had learned to retrieve the rich offerings of her nighttime dreams and combine them with elements from her conscious, possibility-filled daydreams. In that her nighttime and daydreams were inexplicably linked to her longings for more to fill her spirit and her need to find the answers to ever-looming questions about her identity and her future, Tara had to find how her thought life impacted on her active life. Thus, Tara explored various aspects of: time and place, parental demands, friendships, schoolwork, family history, and her Jewish heritage as described in Torah to validate her identity and to determine how she might one day help to bring about world peace.

Knowing that dreams are often awash in fantasy, she focused only on ideas that could be used to accomplish actual, substantive goals. At times, Tara’s exploration of her dreams brought questions about her own realities to the surface. The one that bothered her most was why she was an only child. Still, Tara was a happy young girl whose dreams usually quelled any momentary lapses into sadness over her loneliness or fear for she always had the joy of the God of her fathers and the exquisite mystery of the music of the universe gifted to her without request.

Sometimes Tara dreamt of songs or melodies so lovely that she knew they were unearthly, celestial blessings. When unexpected heavenly arrangements came to Tara in the night, the notes would ring out and wrap themselves around her heart squeezing its chambers and forcing echoes of enchanting wonder and streams of joy into every cell of her being. Tara thought that some music was too holy for mortal ears for in one such dream she had fainted. The song was in the minor key…her favorite among new or familiar musical arrangements. Immersed in the astounding beauty of scintillating notes, Tara had lost consciousness for she was unable to bear the weight of the love in this miraculous musical composition. Her vibrating heartstrings revived her to sounds of sympathetic voices singing softly and sweetly over and over: Tara, you missed the rest and the best of the song! You missed the rest and the best of the song! And she was consumed by an inexplicable blend of regret and delight.

During the day, Tara usually recalled her musical dreams and remembered the lovely experiences but not the exact melodies or the chords of the arrangements. Yet, the joy of the gift remained; the blessing to have heard such magnificent music made Tara’s heart swell in anticipation of future heavenly concerts. Indulging in dreams somehow filled her lonely hours. Each symphonic offering was a healing balm that brought beauty and purity. So, Tara listened and was sustained by the music she heard, but these gifts did not dominate her entire time of rest. Nightly, fully drawn characters interjected themselves into her dreams and told their own stories in strange ways. At will, bold or shy figures darted in and out of beginnings, middles, or ends of intriguing episodes acting out their parts, and rarely did Tara have a say in how each drama unfolded.

Tara’s sleeping night dreams often resulted in many creative, purposeful daydreams. Still, she was more sensitive to her immediate environments and to the concerns and feelings of her own peers and most adults with whom she interacted. Though she was a bit wary of how to interact with the elderly, deep within this young, sensitive child felt the need to spend time learning more about them. She thought about what it would have been like to have lived in the olden days with senior citizens as her contemporaries. Sometimes her mind traveled back so far during her night dreams and her day dreams that Tara imagined that she was listening to and learning from people whose lives were even more tumultuous than those in the twentieth century.

Tara wondered how she would have acted at different times of crisis in human history. She tried to imagine what life must have been like for her ancestors during the times when the Jews were enslaved in Egypt or when they were persecuted during the Holocaust. Tara wondered what she would be like if she were much older even at this point. She already considered her own behavior as that of an adult in many ways and had heard comments confirming her self-assessment more than once.

Various relatives spoke of Tara when they didn’t know she was listening: Tara doesn’t really behave like a child. She’s so grown up…too much so if you ask me. But, I guess this is how Rachel and Joseph are raising her. In truth, it’s good that she knows how to think for herself and express her opinions as clearly as she does. I suppose if they’re comfortable with their daughter’s adult demeanor that should be fine with me. Someone else added another opinion.

I don’t think Tara has too many friends her own age because of the way she carries herself. It doesn’t seem to bother her at all and that’s a good thing. I really think she’s well adjusted. Look, if she’s not watching the television all the time and out with friends every day of the week and on weekends, it gives her enough time to read, study, and learn more about the world. I’ve even seen Tara talking with her parents, Rachel and Joseph, and she can hold her own. I heard that Rachel takes her along when she volunteers at the nursing home. Reflecting back on the conversation she had overheard, Tara was not upset but encouraged because she liked appearing as a wise adult asking and answering her own probing questions as well as those of others.

Now, just past dawn, Tara stretched and smiled. Having rested well during the night, she was alert, energetic, and ready for this new, bright morning of exciting activities. It was, in fact, a most important time in her life for this very day she would become a grownup…a full-fledged woman. She smiled, rolled over, and indulged in her favorite pastime, daydreaming not solely about herself. Daydreams presented amazing possibilities for Tara to consider human relationships far and near.

In her intriguing daydreams, Tara loved how mysterious imagery, topics, settings, and characters ran in and out of her brain. It was during these mental maneuvers that she learned the most for there were opportunities to explore and contemplate a wide range of interests by interacting with opinionated and diverse populations.

Tara provided herself with such opportunities by devising her own live, simulated radio broadcast. With this ingenious invention, an imaginary listening audience sympathetic to the leanings of her young and tender heart materialized. The listeners she conjured up were the kinds of people she might encounter if she were a member of the adult society. So, Tara pretended that she heard listeners from various cultural heritages call in to her personal radio program with opinions, questions, or comments about topics that were important to her. She was ready for any challenge.

Tara spoke aloud using different voices to symbolize the variety of "callers." Then, as host of the show, she responded in the most grown-up tone she could muster. Sharply focused on her future role in helping make the world better, she welcomed her audience to this morning’s Tara On Air program. She offered the topic for the day.

"Good morning all! Welcome to Tara On Air! This is your host Tara at your service. Please call our special 600 number, ask your questions, or state your opinions. I’ll repeat all your concerns for other listeners then I’ll give my responses. This is a program that’s good for children so gather them around so that they can get an early start on setting future career paths by learning some of the problems we all face in life. Who knows, your child might be among those that help find logical solutions to some of life’s most difficult problems. Let’s face reality! We need all the help we can get to fix a world that is turned upside down! Our topic today is: How can we correct all the wrong things going on in the world including, our country, states, cities, towns, and our homes?"

Now, Tara had already chosen the one and only appropriate response to her imaginary callers’ concerns and/or opinions. So, she duly interjected her answer to achieve her purposes all the while allowing for the fact that there were solutions that might differ from her own. During most of her broadcast, Tara was staunch, not easily distracted, and continuously offering to her callers the Cure: *Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is the only One who can make all things in this world right.

As many of you know, I’m Jewish and I worship *Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob and I believe that He is the only One who can make all things in this world right. We just need to obey Him. She didn’t turn anyone away. "Oh! Our first call is coming in. Ring, ring, ring!" Tara pretended to hear a phone and placed the receiver up to her ear. Then, Tara’s grown-up voice welcomed the first of sixteen callers.

Thank you for your call! Welcome to Tara On Air. You’re our first caller of the morning. The young radio host heard each of the sixteen voices in different timbres each one projecting its individual quality as if it were a sound like:

•Acid rain: I despise Judaism and Christianity! I hate Jews and Christians! You all should be wiped off the face of the earth!

•Flowery beds of ease: What would you have done if you had been alive during the Holocaust?

•Falling water: Why do you call people you don’t even know brothers and sisters?

•Rustling leaves: Hate, prejudice, violence, injustice, bigotry, and racism have the same source. What is it?

•Silvery chimes: "Okay, families fight sometimes. The parents are so busy and caught up in their own interests they don’t even teach the children it’s wrong to lie, cheat, steal, bully, and disobey God.

•Bleating sheep: People are so mean to one another. When will wars stop?

•Pelting raindrops: Love? How can that be the answer to all problems?

•Crashing waves: If world-wide conflicts kill love and are negative and sad, who can ever bring joy, peace, and happiness on earth?

•A Sweet lullaby: Tara, this is Momma. Didn’t I tell you not to worry about the future? Live for today. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Remember?

•Snapping fingers: Ever notice how kids quickly learn songs they like? Why not ask all the children to write songs and sing them to adults? Then grown folks can listen to the wisdom of the young and learn that they need to stop making movies, computer games, and television shows that promote hate and violence!

•Croaking frogs: Hey, you know the diabolical, evil source of selfishness, greed, and tyranny, don’t you little girl? You know the ones who think and act on these things and make children suffer as a result, don’t you? Children are always the victims aren’t they?

•Brassy cymbals: Now, don’t miss this: racism, hatred, terrorism, murder, and prejudice are all crime-filled diseases. I think so, don’t you? What’s your idea about getting rid of these sick crimes and the sick people who commit them?

•Singing birds: Why do all things in nature obey their Creator except the ones that are supposed to be the smartest?

•Roaring lions: What’s so wonderful about history and the future? Just concentrate on the present. That’s what’s most important.

•Droning bees: Tell me. How do you know who you are? I’m still searching for my identity. Somebody is keeping it a secret from me!

•Flowing streams: Isn’t today your Bat Mitzvah Ceremony? You’re finally going to become a Woman-of-the-Commandment. Right?

Tara wanted her listeners to get the most out of this important topic. So she again verbalized her Cure…her one response to every comment or question raised by her imaginary callers: *Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is the only One who can make all things in this world right. Yet, knowing that in real life people are different and don’t have the same opinions or experiences, Tara also considered that there might be concerns circulating out in the atmosphere… some asked or unasked questions or stated or unstated opinions…many that obviously rose from her own experiences, thoughts, hopes, and dreams. Thus, even as she invited everyone to join her in applying the biblically-anchored Cure to all concerns, the young host of Tara-On-Air took an uncharacteristic risk. Tara now jumped at an opportunity to personalize her stated faith-based Cure with specific, realistic, general, generous, open-ended, little girl, grownup, truthful, heartfelt, not-in-order, or You tell-‘em-Tara responses to some of the more glaring statements. She shouted:

• People have problems!*

• You need to find God! Next caller, please!*

• I don’t know. I pray that I would have helped.*

• We’re all connected, kinfolks, blood-related. Celebrate the fact!*

• People need help. Help them!*

• Kids aren’t dumb!*

• The God of my fathers is good!*

• I want to be an anthropologist.*

• "Leave me alone! I’m going to pray for you.*

• Music blesses the spirit.*

• I’m your sister.*

• God is Love and He commands us to love Him back.*

• Sin separates men and women and children from their Creator.*

• God is Omniscient, Omnipotent, and Omnipresent. Tell others about Him.*

• Parents need to know God and pass His truths on to their children.*

• Apologize for using stereotypes and mean it!*

• Pray that all will study Torah to find God’s Truth.*

• I’m not yet living in the future but I want to be ready for it when it comes.*

With a great sense of accomplishment, Tara signed off for the day. "This is Tara On Air. Thanks for your calls. Shalom! Talk to you next time! Have a great and blessed day!"

Tara was proving to herself that she could someday help people achieve happiness by teaching them to focus on problem-solving techniques even now… while she was still young. Though she was not prideful, Tara wanted others to see that she was making a sincere effort to achieve her goal. She could almost hear the sweet words verifying her progress as an instructor: There is Tara. She made a big difference in my life. Or, I’m happy because Tara really cares more about me than she does herself! But, only imagining success in helping others resolve conflicts was not sufficient for a sensitive, tender-hearted young girl who wanted to spread joy, peace, and happiness throughout the world.

Ironically, the end of Tara’s radio show brought about a related daydream about a dream. Tara had purposely included extra responses to her list because she had other glaring questions that she needed to ask about human conflict. She had struggled with some very hard choices as a preteen. One of her peers had said of Tara. I was getting ready to fight, but Tara talked me out of it! As Tara thought that there might eventually be real possibilities or opportunities for her to personally intervene in life’s conflicts, whether in the present or the future, a dark cloud of doubt and uncertainty filled her heart yet again. Seriously, she queried. Who do I think I am? How can I stop anyone from getting into a fight? How can I stop people in this world from hating one another?

These questions were the source of much pain in young Tara’s daily life as she saw violence infiltrating high, low, and wide places as people carried out soft, hard, and malicious missions on the young, old, rich, and poor. The heart-wrenching plague of man’s inhumanity to man was all-consuming as people of every race, ethnicity, religion, and culture succumbed to its evil intents. Tara pondered the personal impact: I wonder when faced with violence if using physical force to protect yourself and your beliefs is ever really acceptable in God’s sight? This hardest question cut Tara to the quick. Then, in the midst of daydreaming, the memory of a wild nighttime dream rose up and clarified her position.

Tara, the young dreamer, recalled a vivid dream in which she was forced to fight a bully at her school. This was not her first choice for in the dream as in real life she was an extremely private girl who would rather read and study than scuffle with someone over frivolous, nonsensical things. The dream was as real in image and words as if it had actually happened.

The bully in Tara’s dream was one of the meanest girls at her school and Tara had seen her attack other, weaker girls. She had been stalking Tara for weeks and finally trapped her taunting menacingly: Think you’re cuter than me with your long hair and blue-green eyes and fancy clothes? Think you’re smarter than me ‘cause you won first prize in the Science Fair? You’re so high class and think you’re better than everybody else! I’ll show you who’s better! She struck Tara sharply on her shoulder with her fist and was about to land another punch on Tara’s face when, without blinking, Tara blocked it and slapped the bully so hard and fast. Stunned senseless, she didn’t see Tara raise her foot and drop-kick her in a karate move that left the tough girl sprawled out on the sidewalk. As if she were impaled upon a sword, the mean girl cried out…both eyes shocked wide open staring at Tara in disbelief.

In the dream, there was a noisy crowd watching the gentle, shy girl beat up the bold bully but because she didn’t like fighting, Tara didn’t brag or invite the others to join in the battle. Some kids were screaming at the bully who was trying her best to stand up: Good! No better for you! I bet you’ll stop picking on people now ‘cause you can’t tell a book by its cover! See! You got just what you deserved! Tara boldly cautioned her attacker. Listen, I’m not better or smarter than you. But before you attack, always think twice! Take my advice! That dream strengthened Tara’s nonviolent position for she was able to discern the only One who could answer her rhetorical questions. And for this she was greatly relieved.

Only God has the solution. He wants people to stop fighting and killing each other. We all need to listen to God, read His Word, and follow His lead as to whether He approves or disapproves of our decisions to act violently. Until they obey, young and old will just keep hurting each other. If they won’t hear God, I know they won’t hear me! So, I’ll rest in and wait on the Lord! And as in many of her multilayered daydreams, Tara made the conscious decision not to complete this exhausting train of thought. Even so, as she breathed deeply and relaxed, her desire and determination to overcome societal limitations on youthful contributions to peace reigned.

Tara, rather tall for her age, looked like a princess. But she carried herself like a queen belying her twelve years. It might have been more fitting for her to act her age but Tara enjoyed surprising people with her strong, measured speech, pointed questions, and easy manner in the presence of adults. Without thinking, Tara often involuntarily lifted her chin giving her an air of maturity and revealing a mysterious and an unexpected level of wisdom. Only her giggles, deep-dimpled smiles, and the curiosity in her large, blue-green eyes gave away her youth. She knew that kids of her generation had many problems and some lost their innocence too early. Though her parents had shielded her and given her the will to resist many temptations, Tara had witnessed disastrous results in the lives of others and considered her own problem of loneliness mild when compared to the devastating challenges of some of her peers.

Since her bedroom was the place where Tara had precious privacy, she tried to let go of attachments to stressful people, situations, or things that prevented delightful night time and daydreams about the wonders of the past, present, and future life to come. Today’s focused contemplation and her Bat Mitzvah Ceremony were bound to help Tara learn to truly let go and become a ready listener to the God of her fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Remembering that God in His infinite wisdom had to put her on the right path, Tara invited into her room a portion of His Creation…a bit of His music that offered the right seasoning for marinating her ideas.

Outside the morning birds began their songs again singing louder than ever as if pleading with Tara to get up and sing with them. Tara did rise from her bed to raise the shade and the window so that she could hear their music better. Then, she quickly slipped back beneath the covers as cold air rushed in through the screen and nature’s music filled every corner of the room. The refreshing air cleared her mind of the past and thoughts of what life held in store for her future flew away.

Tara felt the need to think only of the present saying, "Now is what’s important! Today is very special! I have to live for today! Echoes of two of Momma’s favorite pieces of advice reverberated in her head. Let tomorrow take care of itself!" and This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it! As though confirming her decision, the winter birds sang to that very point as Tara agreed to concentrate only on the events of the day.

Ignoring the icy air, Tara listened more intently to the birds and realized that they signaled the beauty of life…the joy of the coming day. So, in perfect harmony with her fine-winged musicians, Tara rose gracefully from her bed allowing the cold to stiffen her resolve. Lifting her chin, turning her face to the side, raising her arms over her head, Tara slowly spun around to the music of her tiny friends. Now, oblivious to the winter air she welcomed the chance to be free of the things that confused her and crowded out joy from her usually happy heart. Then, Tara noticed that the street lights and early morning sunlight just outside her bedroom filtered through and cast her taller-than-life shadow high on the wall.

Amazed at the size and clarity of her shadow, Tara giggled and began to dance with her unexpected guest. The birds’ chirping and tweeting filled the room and compelled her to twirl around her room with abandon as her flowing, flowery, flannel nightgown kept pace with her long, dark wavy hair. Graceful and angelic the child was totally unaware of her rare beauty and how her clear ivory skin tones glowed in the early light or how her blue-green eyes sparkled. Ever so subtlety did Tara’s fluid form join her shadow-partner as they moved together in natural musical progressions that somehow confirmed their divine alliance.

During her dance, Tara thought of the beauty, the love, and the promises of becoming a woman. Somehow, she felt her cavernous, lonely heart fill up with unexplored treasures, unfulfilled promises, and exquisite yet unknown secrets. She moved as if she were a ballerina while prayerfully considering that there could be some permanent answers to her empty feelings hidden in the rituals of womanhood. May God fill the voids, answer my questions, and remove the dark clouds of confusion. Tara’s hand held the hand of her shadow-partner, and they danced together for a long while.

In this early morning invasion of uncertainty about her life, Tara’s prayer that God would wipe away the emptiness and replace confusion and fear with never- ending confidence calmed her anxieties.

Excited and hopeful, Tara began to twirl faster and noticed that her shadow was there with her the whole time. There are two of us. Tara laughed speeding around with her shadow. She was enjoying the dance so much she considered doing a cartwheel but remembered that a bat mitzvah is a solemn spiritual ritual. The beautiful dancer slowed the tempo, and while still dancing with her shadow she soberly proclaimed:

Oh, I must be a lady…I’m twelve years old. I’m a grown woman now. Besides, cartwheels are for babies! Just as she said ‘babies’, the word bounced off the walls each syllable creating its own medley of echoes from classical compositions for children. Hearing the loveliest sounds Tara was suddenly surrounded in excerpts from strangely familiar symphonies, and she imagined that her shadow was taking the lead. It was as if it were moving with Tara fully aware that they were inseparable…celebrating togetherness. Tara curtsied with her shadow. Then they stood still. Tara sat down on her bed and shut her eyes, marveling at the elegance of the dance. When she opened her eyes, she exclaimed: This can’t be! Her tall shadow was still on the wall frozen in their final, most elegant pose.

The image of her static shadow was etched into her mind. In shocked disbelief, Tara decided that her imagination had run wild. I think I need some sleep! She quickly shut out the icy air and jumped beneath her blankets just as the rising sun shone brighter through the windowpanes. Tara’s bed welcomed her back to its warmth and cared not that she might possibly fall asleep giving her more time to dream, contemplate, and make some sense of the many thoughts tumbling through her brain. Instinctively, she reached for her worn copy of the sacred Torah, laid it upon her chest, and meditated upon its truths. Reluctantly, she raised her head off her pillow to peek at the empty wall and smiled. That shadow was just a mirage! Now, I must concentrate on today. Caressing the pages of Holy Scripture, she confirmed the Word’s inherent blessing. "All the answers to my questions are here in Torah. The solutions to the problems of all the people in the world are here. Here is the Word, the Manna, the ABSOLUTE TRUTH of Yahweh, the true and living God!"

The ticking of the clock marked the approaching time of Tara’s Bat Mitzvah Ceremony. As if counting her heartbeats, Tara fell into the rhythm of her own breathing. Other than this, the house was silent until her heart’s syncopated beats inspired a melancholy song.

With her copy of Torah upon her chest, Tara began to recall things that she learned during her studies of the history of Jewish people that struck sharp chords of sadness, confusion, and joy. Studying about her Jewish ancestors in preparation for her bat mitzvah made her prouder of her heritage. She would share portions of her heritage during her Bat Mitzvah Ceremony.

Yet, as a sea of mixed emotions washed over young Tara, discouraging words expressing anxieties and confusion again filled her tender heart. Suddenly, Tara imagined that she was singing a sad song to the morning birds through the closed window. New lyrics emerged from her stormy seas as she lay contemplating her plight. Tara then whispered some of the unsettling thoughts.

"I don’t feel complete! I don’t feel ready! Inaudibly, she sang more sad words:

"Only half of me is ready!

The other half of me is missing!

I feel so lonely!"

And seeming to sense Tara’s despair, her fine-feathered friends had fallen silent. As if in deep communication with another of God’s creations, Tara became aware of the silence outside her window and a melody emphasizing the pain in her lyrics filled her mind but she could not yet sing it. Noticing that the birds huddled around the window screen now seemed poised to hear her melancholy story she opened the window yet again and found her new voice…the one that had helped her express all of her old frustrations in a refreshingly bold way. The tune emerged softly and sweetly. Then, truths formed somewhere in the far distance enhanced her lyrics and flowed into the music as from warmer lips Tara sang to her compassionate friends her heart’s lament: Half of Me:

"All of my life I always knew that there was…something

Something missing that I just can’t explain

An emptiness hidden deep within me

In a place…in a space filled with sadness and pain.

I pray that someday there’ll be a change.

They say nothing about life will come easy.

And that it takes time to really figure it out.

But no matter what just ask God to guide

you with His Power. But how can you ask

if you don’t know who you are?

Half of me. How could it be? My world is

filled with love and peace…yet, the feeling

inside me will not cease. Half of me.

I want to be free. I need to know what it is,

So that I can finally be…ME."

So that I can finally be me. In Tara’s mind these last words became the answer to her loneliness…to her identity. When I find me, then, I’ll know who I am. These mysterious words were soothing and relaxing.

When the calmness had eased her mind and the lingering melody of her song had settled her spirit, Tara dozed off. Though it seemed like hours, the time was short yet long enough for her to dream of making history-changing discoveries and finding the secret to peaceful co-existence among all humankind. She dreamed of some soft parts of life. But, then many hard parts of life spilled their mischief into good and pleasant images jolting her awake. Tara’s heavy heart fled from fear of the cruelty even young people inflicted upon each other in some of her dreams. Somehow, Tara could bear the issue, the residue of her harsh dreams but shrank upon awakening to witness actual perilous relationships among people whose lives reeked of death and hate and prejudice from lack of peace and love. Dreams were one thing, but real life was another so she reached out and felt her Lord’s hand pull her out of the depths.

All of a sudden Tara realized that she was in the presence of the one person who loved her most. Rachel, her Momma, was going through her closet and pulled out and inspected her bat mitzvah dress. Tara had not heard Rachel come into her room and since she was caught up in her musings, she pretended that she was still asleep.

Not wanting to turn the light on and awaken Tara, Momma turned towards the window and closed it. She adjusted the shade and curtains just enough to let in a bit more of the light from the rising sun. Ever so quietly…ever so lovingly, Rachel looked at her daughter not realizing that her child was observing her as well. With the splash of light, Tara caught a glimpse of her mother’s blue-green eyes highlighted with flecks of gold just as the sun boldly splashed daylight into the room. Momma couldn’t be crying! Tara thought that she saw tears glistening in her Momma’s eyes. Maybe she’s just happy about my bat mitzvah. Tara smiled.

Tara always thought her mother was pretty. But, in this early morning light, she appeared beautiful, angelic, and regal. Her hair, like Tara’s, was a coarse, dark waterfall cascading in loose ringlets around her shoulders. Stretched across high cheekbones, her ivory skin, just like Tara’s, was flawless except for a beauty mark…a tiny mole on the right side of her upper lip. Through the slits in her eyes, Tara saw that Momma was actually weeping and smiling. Tara was lying very still not wanting Momma to know she was awake, not wanting to get up…not just yet…not wanting Momma to know that she was enjoying the fragrance of her perfume. So, Tara watched her mother turn to check the time on the clock, lay her dress gently across the foot of the bed, adjust the curtains once again, and leave just as quietly as she had come in.

As her bedroom door closed, Tara breathed a sigh of relief, giggled, and remembered the fun she and Momma shared in shopping for her bat mitzvah dress. Though they didn’t always agree on what would be appropriate for the occasion, Tara was satisfied that Momma had made the right choice. After today, Tara would be a woman and she would make her own decisions about her clothes, her education, and her career. Gaining confidence from her impending womanhood, Tara sat up in her bed and picked up the pink and white dress adorned with a delicate lace collar and loved the idea of wearing it while confirming her beliefs. Again, as she considered her bat mitzvah, relentless reservations drained hope.

Today, I will become a woman? And the doubt of her readiness for adulthood brought strains of the young composer’s song back to her mind. Only Tara’s heart knew that she craved much more, something else, something that she could not identify. The deep emptiness…a void...a place only the morning birds could share signaled that what the child, Tara, longed for wouldn’t be satisfied by her coming of age. Neither would her heart’s desire to find paths to peace for people everywhere fill the cavernous reality of her unrelenting loneliness.

Alone once again, Tara’s pleas for answers were heard as she nestled in the serenity of her room. Lyrics from the new song flowed freely into her heart and she found comfort in the fact that she could sing of what she had yet to accomplish… of what she had yet to learn. This child could at least begin planting seeds of hope that she would become whole and that in her future she would bear good fruit. So, Tara again sang the lyrics describing the shadowy, aching void in her heart that contrasted greatly with the warmth and the brightness of the rising Sun…for the sun alone held in its Love-Light promises for this sweet bat mitzvah’s delight.

"An emptiness… hidden deep within me,

In a place…in a space filled with sadness and pain.

Half of me… How could it be?

I pray that someday there’ll be a change."

The night before Tara’s bat mitzvah Rachel slipped beneath the covers freshly bathed, powdered, and perfumed; she smiled. She was thankful for the gift of sleep and hoped that as her escape route it would come quickly. The only thing surpassing the joy at being able to finally lay her head on her pillow and welcome sleep was the satisfaction of knowing that her family was safe, the house was clean, and that God had answered her prayers. But the unconfessed, foreboding secret loomed…an almost constant smile snatcher…a rebellious tearjerker forcing her to recall the past. Rachel’s conscious would not allow her to forget reality for it had hit her in the face that very morning as she ran the familiar jogging trail.

Usually, as she ran past the houses and trees in the neighborhood and on into the wooded area, the well-worn path and incredibly lovely scenery would give her some peace. But that morning before Tara’s special day as Rachel ran with fresh, invigorating air rushing past her face, she could not find the solace she sought. All along the path, Rachel could not help but think of her joy on the twin’s day of birth. Tara was not her only baby. The joy and the ecstasy of the gifts of Tara and Tamara that God had bestowed upon her their mother and Joseph their father was more than they could ever have expected. The twins had made them so happy.

Now as she lay in the darkness of her bedroom, Momma asked, What happened to us? The next morning, as she inspected Tara’s bat mitzvah dress, she had pondered the fact that were it not for her the Bat Mitzvah Ceremony would have been a celebration for two maturing Jewish girls. Just this thought alone took her back twelve years…pulled her back to the beginning when her world was perfect… her life complete. But the absence of her other daughter, Tamara, was a recurring nightmare that kept the pain on the surface of her existence and Rachel wished that she had never conceived of nor activated the secret plot against Tamara. She then contemplated the origin of life and her personal ingratitude for the gift of twins.

Rachel considered the fact that life itself is such an awesome gift that to think of human beings as capable of reproduction without divine intervention is most preposterous. Creator God the Life-giver, in His Wisdom, equipped woman to carry the seed. Woman alone has the physical form to carry a child as He ordained. Thus, there are no reasons for dishonoring the miracle of a child…no basis for interfering with the wonder of children…the hope of the future. Though this young mother knew these things, she was still reluctant to admit that she had greatly dishonored the Lord’s Wisdom and Power in His Creation of Tamara and Tara.

So, on that early morning jog, Momma was compelled to begin a long process of self-examination that would bring her face to face with the truth. She alone was the instigator of a plot of such a diabolical nature that she viewed it as a decision worthy of not only God’s punishment but also man’s. Rachel knew herself better than anyone else did. The truth was that she was, despite the heinous crime, good at making excuses...good at justifying the act….good at rationalizing its consequences…and good at giving in to her whims. Her mind took her back to the trail where unexpected patches of dried grass rooted in unyielding clods of clay dirt hampering her smooth run. As Rachel suddenly lost her footing and struggled to regain her balance, she was reminded that she had lost all hope for she was always trying to juggle efforts to recover with futile attempts to deny the facts. Finding relief from the daily agony of her crime was seemingly impossible.

In her heart, Rachel knew that she needed to first acknowledge her guilt as a prerequisite for approaching repentance. As if to compensate for Tamara’s absence on the day that would have also been her bat mitzvah, this mother wanted to speak to Tamara’s heart. So, as she jogged, Momma queried her absent child as if she were actually in her presence:

What is a mother if not one whose bosom swells to nurse you? What is a mother if not one whose every moment is consumed with dispensing love to those to whom she has given birth? A mother’s life is complete when she can reach for her little ones and wrap them in her humility. But not you, Tamara! I gave a part of my life up when I gave you up! Rachel gasped, held her breath momentarily, and fought back the tears. Then, inhaling the vigor of the fresh, crisp air, she fell into the rhythm of the run on the path and blocked out as best she could the agony that floated just beneath the surface…a survival technique that had heretofore served her well.

Now that night had fallen and Tara’s ceremony was only hours away the memories that flooded her mind during her run held sleep at bay and wiped the hopeful smile from her face. Rachel craved sleep but the twelve-year secret that had often caused endless weeping lay open like a raw wound…an unconscionable backdrop for a sacred ceremony that should have been for twin sisters. She had hoped to rest but painful memories proved relentless allowing only fitful sleep.

Thus, Rachel was surprised that she awakened the next morning with dry eyes and a dry pillow. Maybe it was a sign of a great day to come with Tara’s bat mitzvah and reception. I’m a mother of a twelve-year-old daughter who will become a grown woman today. I need to be strong, happy, and in control for her. Rachel had not rested because she was trying to block out the situation that could bring her life to a halt. I just can’t think about that now! Yet, Rachel realized that she and Joseph had to discuss the secret before the day was over because of Tara. As if giving herself a last-minute reprieve before her devastating conviction was pronounced, Rachel convinced herself to continue trying to rest. But, it was almost impossible to get comfortable before arising to check on Tara, her dress, and going down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

After quietly exiting Tara’s room, Rachel crept down to the kitchen to start cooking. She had at least two hours before it was time to call Tara and Poppa to the table. They had three hours before it was time for Tara’s Bat Mitzvah Ceremony. Despite the foreboding reality, this promised to be a wonderful day for Tara and for the family. This special child was going to become a Woman-of-the-Commandment.

There were so many women in the family who had gone through this Jewish ritual: her mother, even her grandmother, and all of her sisters, Joseph’s mother, even his grandmother and all of his sisters. So, it was now Tara’s turn and…and… and…Rachel’s thoughts trailed off and she fought back hot tears. She had been holding them back all morning; she wouldn’t cry now. She simply couldn’t let the river overflow its banks!

Rachel busied herself with the preparations for the morning meal and tried to take her mind off of the things that made Tara’s bat mitzvah miserable for her and Poppa. Deep inside this mother’s heart, the seeds of the long-held secret had germinated and sharp shoots struggled to push through and touch the light of day. Denying the truth over these many years had proven too much for she was losing the battle to hide it any longer. But, she had to keep her composure at least through the rest of Tara’s special day…at least through the Bat Mitzvah Ceremony.

Rachel heard Joseph stirring in the sitting room and went in to speak to him about the day’s schedule and about the deception and the fact that they had to reveal the secret. From the books lining the shelves, Joseph had selected a Talmud commentary to begin his morning devotions. Walking into the room and closing the door, Rachel referred to the latter of her concerns when she asked her husband, What shall we do?

Usually a strong, take-charge man, Joseph seemed weak, drained, and powerless in the face of the truth behind the secret he and Rachel shared. Knowing that the revelation posed perilous premises, Joseph looked at his wife and responded quietly. There’s nothing we can do today. Let’s talk about it later. He placed the commentary of the Talmud on the table, reached for his wife, and felt their tears co-mingling as he held her close. Each tear’s tracks told its own sad story staining the cheeks of Momma and Poppa and ruining an otherwise flawless parental record. Joseph whispered. We have to ask Yahweh for strength.

You’re right, Joseph. We have to be strong for Tara. Tears streamed down Rachel’s face as she struggled in vain to believe her own words.

God will answer our prayers. Poppa said softly, his voice shaking. He always does. Pangs of doubt regarding God’s willingness to forgive them struck Joseph hard even as he tried to comfort his wife for the cruelty of the plot perpetrated upon their own child had unwanted and unexpected results. The well of tears grew deep filling to the overflow.

The words indicating that God would help the guilty opened the well’s fountain and the shared parental tears mercifully gave them some relief. Fruitless, futile emissions of pain coming from the sinful decision made long ago had daily plagued them, yet they both believed that God would forgive them. Nonetheless, resolution was elusive, and thus the deep wounds in their hearts and the heavy tears that oozed from every pore emitted the putrid odor of sin that needed to be scrubbed away.

Rachel spoke to this point through her pain. I believe that the resolving of problems in life require tear-baths. It is as if the Lord has created wells of water deep inside the human heart so that when a person needs cleansing from sins or wrong-doing, his or her conscience brings forth that found guilt which breaks open the fountain…the tear-bath. As husband and wife attempted to comfort one another, Joseph responded through his own pain with an equally veiled view of the relationship between guilt and incessant crying.

I agree that the guilt that breaks open the fountain should lead to actual open confession of the sin. Then there would be the release of the tears...the cleansing element that could wash away the guilt of the sinner. But until he or she is brought to his or her knees before a forgiving God in an obvious sign of the acknowledgement and confession of guilt, there will be no cleansing. There is only the opening for true repentance, so that fountains of water can flow and relieve some of the suffering. But there is another reason for the tear-baths or the tear-wells within our souls.

What’s that? Rachel asked. All the while her trembling body dispersed what was left of her strength.

Have we actually confessed our guilt…our sin to our loving, merciful God, Rachel? Joseph asked.

No! I know that I haven’t.

And neither have I. He answered. Crying alone will not help us! We need to confess our guilt in this awful sin, Rachel. God alone can forgive and cleanse us. Our futile tears won’t stop until we do and then there will be more tears but they’ll be different. Don’t you see? Tears of regret are cathartic. When we cry out our confession, it makes our anguish visible before our God revealing that our weeping is an appeal for His intervention. God is the purifying agent! His cleansing forgiveness will bring tears of gratitude for His Mercy. God will then give us the gifts of joy and peace and our hearts will spill out visible, healing joy. Our lives will be brand new and we can start again. Our family will be happy.

These words from Joseph only added to the overwhelming tension and crowded the issues and circumstances into a big ball of confusion. Feeling powerless, Rachel simply said through her tears:

Joseph, this weight has been too heavy for me. I can’t keep this secret any longer. As if to further lighten her burden, she looked into her husband’s eyes and asked without reservation. Why did you let me do this?

Joseph was taken aback but seemed to understand his wife’s pain so he didn’t directly address the personal affront…the deflected blame. He loved her too much to lay the crime at her feet alone. Instead, he found refuge in speaking to the impact that the ugly plot had on both of them.

You’ve made my point for me. It’s been too heavy for both of us and now that Tara is coming into adulthood, she has to know. She is a very smart young girl….’er….young woman as of today. Prepare yourself for more tears, Rachel. We have to level with Tara sooner rather than later.

I only hope that we can all share tears of joy after we confess. Rachel breathed a big sigh of relief that her husband had ignored her attempt to blame him for the plot so she leaned upon his strong shoulders. They held one another closer…their wet cheeks touching once again. With God as their only hope….as their last chance to get through the day…His was the Light to which they could look towards for dissolving their distress. Just then, the sun broke through the window and daylight flooded the room.

See, Rachel! God is faithful. The sun rises every day, penetrates the clouds, and guides us out of the darkness into the light. We’ll find an answer to our problem. You’ll see. So, don’t cry anymore. Let’s not let Tara see us cry, my dear. The sun shone even more brightly and almost dried Rachel’s tears. She then spoke of her joy for its promises.

I like the sunrise. It always brings good things. A smile floated around the edges of her mouth as she wiped the wet overflow from her lovely eyes. I wonder if Tara is awake now to see the sun shining in her room. Both looked up towards the ceiling for Tara’s room was right above Joseph’s study. Rachel’s attempt to deflect her heart’s pain failed.

I was in her room earlier and was careful not to wake her. Rachel continued. She’s such a good girl. What have we done to her? What kind of mother am I? These leading, pre-purging probes sharpened her guilt, opened fresh tear-wells, and Momma was powerless to stop the weeping. Hot tears once again cascaded down her cheeks as painful memories spun backwards in time like a wheel collecting more misery with each revolution. Seeing Rachel falter upon the precipice of her guilt-ladened desperation, and fearing the worst, Joseph took her hand and led her to a chair. Looking deep into her blue-green eyes, he implored.

Please, Rachel. Try not to worry. Look at the bright sun! Although she turned her head towards the window, without warning the sunlight was as darkness to her. Just after she glanced up at Joseph and signaled that she could not speak, she closed her eyes. This distraught mother of two minus one squeezed her husband’s hand, then loosened her grip, and like a rag doll her hands fell into her lap as memories of her mother flooded her mind.

The depth of Rachel’s love for her own mother increased the irony of her own maternal shortcomings. She recalled every line of a poem she had written for her mother’s sixtieth birthday and remembered thinking that its sentiments were not a worthy testament of all her mother really