my parents.

the stewards of my soul!

taken, I believe, at their engagement party, 30+ years ago! aren’t they beautiful?

I hosted my parents for Shabbat dinner last night. It was a pretty simple night, but it felt exquisite. I came out of it surprised with the waves of reflection it left me with, and I woke up this morning inspired to write this. It ended up being a love letter of sorts to my parents. I thought that others might enjoy reading it, too. So, here it is, for your eyes as well as theirs :)

I made challah from scratch yesterday for the first time. Well, brioche disguised as challah, but still. Every week growing up, my parents would spend Friday evening hustling around the house, labouring in the kitchen, bringing order to our home, as they prepared us a beautiful meal, which we would all enjoy as a family, without fail, pretty much every week that I can remember. Even when I used to go to gymnastics and not get home until 9pm on Friday nights, my parents would wait for me, and we would sit together for what ended up being a 5-course meal (soup, salad, several mains, sides, and of course, a beautiful fruit platter for dessert) leaving us all over-full, as we sung prayers, discussed the events of the week, and were just… together.

I view this as an incredible feat. It is not easy to make a meal for two people, let alone a family of five, herding everyone together, summoning the patience from the group for all of the little tasks that went into the meal every week.

Last night, I got to host them for Shabbat. It was beautiful. It felt like this significant cosmic loop was somehow closing as another one was opening; me in my home, having my parents over for Shabbat dinner.

some notes on my upbringing

Whatever I am, whoever I am, I give pretty much all of the credit to my parents. Not because they made me me per se (pretty much all of my interest and focus areas have been developed independent of things I absorbed from them), but because they made me feel loved and safe enough to let myself be Me—who I really am, instead of who they, or anyone else, wanted me to be.

Back in my former life as a prestige-oriented high achiever, people always asked me what my parents “did” for a living, implying that somehow my perceived intelligence / ability to do well in these competitive environments was because of some career arc I had been conditioned to have from them, from their choices. The question always felt like it missed the point to me. It wasn’t because of what my parents did for a living that I was who I was; it was because of everything they had put into me. It was because they had loved me unconditionally.

My parents prioritized their kids at every stage of their life, and were laser focused on giving us everything they could. It wasn’t easy for them, to give us what they did. There was a lot of sacrifice, many trade-offs. This constant pushing to the edge of what they could manage, for the sake of what would be best for us. That devotion was something I sensed, as a kid. And I believe it helped me step into the opportunities I had available to me with the same level of devotion and responsibility I saw exhibited in them, in their attempts to give me the opportunities that I had.

They supported my desires, my quirks, my never-ending stream of interests and hobbies. When I ask my mom what it was like to raise us, she often remarks, “it was a lot of driving.” I was doing gymnastics several times a week quite seriously, going to school (naturally) and had a pretty active social life - and my parents supported it all. They always made sure I got where I needed to go — if not on time, then at least safely :)

When I took this foray into internet-land a few years ago, leaving the safe and stable career that I had started building for myself, into this much more unknown journey of crafting my art and following my sense of what I needed to do, my parents handled it just about as gracefully as one could hope. They were inquisitive, clearly a little nervous (they had, after all, spent their lives helping me access these opportunities that I was now telling them I was about to let go of entirely), and understandably protective over me and “my potential.” But they also trusted me deeply. And I felt that. They let me follow what felt true to me—and outside of the occasional poking remark here and there, were quite supportive of it.

Why am I writing all of this?

Because I think that the relationship I have with my parents (which isn’t perfect - we still fall into old parent-child dynamics and patterns sometimes!) is pretty extraordinary and a huge part of my life. It is (likely quite a large) part of why I want to have kids so intently; I want to see my parents with them. I want my future kids to experience my parents. I want my parents to experience my future kids. I want to have children so that I can gave them the love my parents gave me—and even more, if I can manage it! I feel deeply connected to my family, to my heritage, in a way that I think is deeply embedded in how I see my role in this world… It is part of the way I relate to myself, to others, to the service I am here to offer.

I had this realization recently that I am a “force of life.” I want more life; more life oozing out of people, more life being created by people! More life! This is essentially the crux of what I stand for: a world where more people are choosing more life force, with how they choose to spend their time, energy, attention — and, well, their lives!

I want us to have faith, to be optimistic, to believe in a beautiful future that we can all co-create together. I was blessed with parents that made me feel loved enough to just become who I am, pretty unapologetically. I felt that I was always held, accepted and ultimately: loved by my parents. I think this has helped me allow myself do and be who I feel I am, instead of who I think I should be, to earn some validation or sense of approval from others (or, who most often, tends to be our parents).

It hasn’t been soooo seamless the whole way through. There was still the pain of divorcing myself from past identities, patterns, etc. that I grew up very attached to. I had to let many versions of myself die to become who I am now, but I think that process was accelerated and made smoother by my feeling held and contained by this love I knew I could always locate in my parents.

I feel that, as much as I tell them, I could tell them even more how much I love them, how much I appreciate them, and how special I think the upbringing they gave me was. The simplest way to put it is that they were the best possible stewards of my soul I could have asked for. They saw me and loved me for who I was, am, and continue to be.

I am incredibly grateful for my parents — the ultimate lottery win of my life (aside from my truly wonderful boyfriend, who you can read my affection for here). My brothers are pretty fantastic as well. And my grandparents… okay, I suppose I could go on… But I won’t :)

Everything I have done and will continue to do, I credit to them. These two beautiful souls who, despite their differences, and all the challenges that come with raising a family and putting their children first, have managed to come out of it with love at the forefront of their lives, deriving their utmost joy in life from their children’s happiness and success. I love them dearly, and always will. Thank you, Mom and Dad <3

PS - If this made you think of your parents, and you have the ability to reach them today, I encourage you to drop them a note and check in! Maybe even tell them how much you love them :) And if you don’t have the best relationship with your parents or if one of them is no longer with you, I am sending you a big virtual hug, full of the love I wrote this piece with <3

More life. And more love for our parents.

Learn more about my work: You can explore my offerings—including my 1-1 coaching, my course to help you unblock yourself creatively, and a free journalling guide I have created for you to begin your inwards journey—here:

related essays you might enjoy: on my romantic relationship, on friendship, also on friendship, and on reconnecting with our childhood selves