Rachel, our older daughter, was sent to the hospital to be induced on Thursday morning. We followed her progress by phone. By “progress” I mean progress in obtaining a room in which they would be able to induce her. Apparently all of the rooms were full– all of the rooms at Shaarey Zedek Hospital where she was, all of the rooms at Hadassah Ein Kerem, all of the rooms at Hadassah Mount Scopus! In short, unless you were about to deliver imminently, you were in line to be induced.

Thursday passed with no action. Friday brought the news that Rachel was 5th in line. By Friday afternoon, she was second in line, but then someone came and took her place and she remained second in line for a long while. By the time we lit Sabbath candles, all we knew was that Rachel was still at the hospital waiting.

But the end of shabbat brought good news. Rachel and Ohad have a brand new beautiful baby girl! Rachel and baby are fine.

So the task at hand was to try to get to the hospital in Jerusalem to see her. Here are the details: Leah and I had to pick up her wedding gown, also in Jerusalem and drop it off at the hair and makeup lady’s house, about 10 minutes closer to our house. This necessitated an empty back seat in the car. Meanwhile, my husband, my sister, and my friend also wanted to go to the hospital. In addition, we needed to pick up the groom’s mother also in Jerusalem. As we added it all up, it was clear that we needed to use more than one car.

A friend’s son had told us that he would lend up his car if it was available when we needed it. Unfortunately, I didn’t have his phone number. So, I looked in the phone directory. It wasn’t there. Nor was his brother’s name listed. I looked on the online listings on the internet (it wasn’t there). I tried calling information, but they didn’t answer. I called his parents, but they were not home and their cell phone was not on. I called someone at our synagogue to which he belongs, but he didn’t have the number. I called the person who he in turn told me was a good friend of his, but he didn’t have it either. Finally I called one other person who I thought might have it and she asked if I had looked for it in the telephone directory! Fortunately, she had it. They were willing to lend us the car.

All’s well that ends well. Leah and I picked up the dress and veil, dropped it off, got to the hospital just as visiting hours had ended, but managed to see Rachel and the baby as well as Sam and Ofi who had hosted the Rachel’s three oldest children for the Sabbath (making 9 children in the home!—including 3 sets of twins!), and met up with my husband and sister and friend. Later we left and picked up the groom’s mother, and returned home safely.

We’re entering the home stretch. And we are entering it with a beautiful new little person accompanying us. We are blessed.

10. Unlimited opportunity to brag about my son to other family members
9. Smokeless environment
8. Warmer temperatures
7. Radio knows how to speak a language I can understand
6. Room lights turn on without inserting card in slot
5. Annoying chimes heard on the hour are in my living room, not in church located within deafening gonging distance
4. Access to heating food without walking down a long hall with a hot pot full of boiling water to pour over the sealed food packets in the sink a minimum of 5 times
3. No more Argentinian ready-to-eat kosher meals. (Don’t ask!)
2. Fewer lions dressed up in alpine costumes (at least for the next day or two)
And the number one top reason I have for being glad to be home:
My family (need I say more?)

My son has a business conference in Munich this week and I offered to come along with him. We took off this morning, a bright sun-filled day from Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv. The last few days have been sunny and mild and although I knew that the weather in Munich could be quite different and I dressed for the colder weather, I never expected that after our stop in Istanbul, we would approach Munich and see only white below us. As we got closer to the ground, the scene became more and more beautiful. By the time we left the plane we could see that probably 12 inches of snow had fallen and the world was a beautiful white-iced cake.

At passport control in Munich, first my son and then I went to the window. The woman asked if we were traveling together. After he was waved through, it was my turn and I told the attractive young woman that I was his mother. She said, “Oh, I thought you were his wife.” I said, “No, his wife is young and beautiful.” She said, “That is what I thought.” It made my day.

But what really made my day was when we finally emerged from the train and began walking toward the inn where we are staying. The air was fresh and clear and cool, but not cold. We walked along the empty street past beautiful manicured houses with warm lights and fine woods visible through their windows and past a stately church and the city hall as barely a car drove by. The snow beneath our feet felt fresh and crunched as we walked, pulling our suitcases behind us. Aside from the sounds of our feet and suitcases, it was almost silent outside. I had forgotten how tranquil and peaceful the snow is. I hadn’t expected such a wonderful treat.