Growing

All I have to say is WHOAH! With another big program to go, we have had our biggest month yet, with 282 people passing through so far. On Friday we had 85 people show up to Shabbat, which was our biggest event EVER.

I'm excited that we seem to be reaching some sort of tipping point where friends are telling friends about our place, but I'm also a little overwhelmed. There is so much good stuff going on - our leadership teams are up and running, which means more leaders, more programs, more integration among everything we do. It's what we've been talking about, and so far it seems to be working. But it is strange to grow this fast.

On Friday night, our davening services were on fire. We gathered upstairs in a smaller room, so that despite our general lack of heating, the room was so packed I had to take off several layers of kabbalisticly white clothing. The 50 or so people at services were crowded, but all directed toward one thing - praying, singing, dancing - all to elevate Shabbat and express gratitude. And, everyone listened raptly as our speaker talked about a local campaign calling on Harvard use its resources to share essential medicines with people in the developing world.

But then at dinner, after another 35 people showed up, I started to notice how many new people there were. I felt a responsiblity to say hello to everyone, but also kind of wanted to hide. It is hard to stay authentic when having that many conversations in a short period of time, especially when your livingroom begins to resemble a New York subway platform at rush hour.

I decided to sit in the kitchen and eat this thai coconut ginger squash soup I made. It's a smaller space, with a table that only fits 4 or 5 people. A couple of close friends joined me, and I realized that, in the midst of the craziness, I could have a good conversation with people I loved. Then some new people sat down, and I remembered that, grounded by my close friends, I could also find personal strength engage new people. So I talked to an activist, a playwrite, a sociology phD, and found out what they were thinking about in their lives. Sharing our stories, gorging ourselves on kugel, it started to feel like home again.

In the morning, when just us and our SIX houseguests remained, our house had a quality of spaciousness that reminded me of the Jewish folktale we acted out in my second grade play. In the story, a man with many children and a tiny home, whose rabbi tells him to bring all of his animals into his house. Only when the Rabbi finally has him clear out the animals does the man appeciate what he has. So, 20 years later, I am gaining a greater understanding of the story -- that home feels spacious when we expand our hearts to love what's inside.

Margie