The Feeling of a 1000 Hugs

The anticipation after knocking on someone’s door always excited me. Would the people living there answer? Would they smile? Would they support us?

My sister was in sixth grade and I was in kindergarten the first time we went door to door together down our street after school selling Barton’s Passover candy for the Hillel Day School of Metropolitan Detroit. It was a bitterly cold Michigan afternoon, but I loved having a reason to visit our neighbors. Coming from different backgrounds, they supported us year after year. Even then, community connections were beginning to take root.

When we came home, my toes were frozen. My sister sat me on the bathroom counter and did everything she could to warm them. These are moments I wish I could replay.

Looking back, I realize that  so much of what I love about volunteering was already there: a reason to connect, something useful to offer and the feeling of being cared for myself.

On my days off from private school, I helped my mother in her Detroit public school classroom. Watching the care she put into her students made me so proud of her. Other afternoons, I spent studying for exams in my father’s legal library or watching him litigate in court, surrounded by the brass and mahogany of the Wayne County courthouse.

My upbringing taught me deep respect for education, ethics, logic and the laws of the places I visit. My grandfather led by example, treating everyone in his path with kindness, respect and a friendly word. My parents were always engaged in making the world a better place. When I grew up, I knew that would be my responsibility, too.

Around our family table, political discussions, laughter and family updates filled the room. (With so many conversations happening at once, you needed chutzpah to make yourself heard.) Afterward, we played charades. Everyone had a chance to be “center stage” while the rest of us guessed. If only I could hear the laughter in that room again!

Those gatherings were a place where different ideas were encouraged and everyone had something to contribute. Knowing how it feels to belong to something bigger than myself makes me want others to feel it, too.

My family taught me that wealth came from what was in your heart and Tikkun olam, repairing the world, was a large part of my upbringing. The support I have received while carrying those values into the work I love has given me so much to be grateful for.

Getting married and leaving Michigan helped me understand how much that support mattered. Other places inevitably brought comparisons to Metro Detroit. I missed our connected community and the clergy who helped make it feel like home. Raising my children close to my parents, in the community that had shaped me, was something I had wanted deeply. It is easy to take what we have for granted until we find ourselves looking for it somewhere else.

Motherhood also taught me how hard it could be to need help and not know where to begin. Finding information that might help another family made me want to share it. The Parent Advisory Council, Friends of Different Learners, the Autism Society and my wider network of friends and family offered me opportunities to do that.

Working with children and adults and advocating through various organizations reminded me to remain open to what each person could teach me. There was always more to someone’s story than the part I knew. Listening helped me see beyond my own experience.

Becoming involved with Hadassah helped me feel closer to the women in my family who have contributed to Zionist efforts for generations. Their dedication stays with me as I find my own way to contribute.

Hadassah and Evolve Hadassah: The Next Generation, the organization’s bridge to connect Zionist women, to build community and make an enduring impact on Israel, women’s health and the world have brought together my interests in advocacy, women’s health and volunteering in a setting where my ideas feel welcome.

After October 7, sending handmade meditation beading kits to Adamah Tovah was a way to let survivors and their families know that, even though we could not be there, our community stood beside them.

On Yom Ha ’atzma’ut (Israel’s Independence Day), we prepared a banner for Hadassah’s two research and treatment hospitals in Jerusalem on behalf of the Detroit Jewish community. Families had the opportunity to sign their names and add drawings or messages. Together, we found a way to send our love from Michigan to Israel.

Post October 7, advocating for the security of all places of worship felt particularly important to me because people of every faith deserve to gather without fear. We can respect one another by building each other up; there is no reason to tear each other down.

Caring for others has also taught me the importance of caring for myself. For a long time, saying no to helping was difficult for me. There were times when I gave more than I had the energy to give and needed to rest. Meditation and breathwork help me return to Hashem (God) and offer myself the patience I want to give others, with grace and rachmanus (compassion).

Being devoted to helping others and needing support can exist together. That is something I am still learning. It takes a village, and I am grateful for the people who show up beside me.

When I feel unsettled by what is happening in the world, I come back to what I can control: I can vote. I can give of myself. I can choose how I treat the person beside me. Knowing my work will be appreciated and may make someone’s day brighter, easier or more fun fills my heart as though I have received 1,000 hugs.  And that feeling of 1,000 hugs is the best armor I could possibly ask for.

Volunteering stays with me beyond the moment the work is finished. Some people in my life would never have crossed my path otherwise. Offering to help has introduced me to skills I did not know I had and perspectives that changed how I understood someone else.

Somewhere between the planning and the cleanup, fellow volunteers have become my friends. And my community has become my mishpucha (my family). Caring for my community has brought so much into my own life. It  humbles me.

Perhaps something in these memories or reflections I’ve shared will encourage you to lead by example in your own community, however that looks for you. Find something you care about and ask where help is needed. Bring a friend  – or come ready to meet one. Let “we should get together” become time spent helping your community.

Often, my thoughts still return to that little girl whose sister warmed her frozen toes. I remember how loved I felt. I hope someone has felt that way because of me.

The author does not speak on behalf of Hadassah and the views expressed herein are the author’s own and not necessarily those of Hadassah.