By Ellen
Two weeks ago, I watched from the front row as my 13-year-old stepdaughter led the congregation in her Bat Mitzvah service. I was seated there between my new husband of one year and my 17-year-old daughter from my first marriage; his ex-wife and their older daughter, also 17, were nearby. We were nothing if not the face of the new extended American family, both socially and religiously.
I was raised a Southern Baptist in the Bible Belt, then became a Presbyterian. I prided myself on having been a member of "liberal" -- rather than conservative -- Christian churches, but the fact remained that for much of my life, a Jew had been an object of curiosity rather than an acquaintance.
And now here I sat, watching my young stepdaughter become an adult in the eyes of her Jewish religious community.
She lives fulltime with me and her Lutheran father, who had agreed with his then-wife to raise their daughters as Jews. Of course, that was pre-divorce. If he's had second thoughts about the decision, he has managed to keep them quiet, even in the face of scheduling snafus and communication breakdowns.
When the service began, however, all was almost forgotten in the revelation that was my stepdaughter. Poised and glowing, she spoke Hebrew swiftly and seemingly faultlessly. She finished by thanking all the relatives who were there with her. She told her older sister how much she would miss her when she left for college. She thanked "Dad and Ellen" for supporting her, and saluted her mother for pushing her into the whole Bat Mitzvah experience.
Somewhere during the litany of thanks, the tears began to stream down her face. This from a child who rarely cries, who occasionally enrages me with her teenage willfulness, who argues passionately about the smallest household chores, yet needs hugs and cuddling far more than her tough exterior would indicate. And all along the front row, the rest of us began to cry, too.
Religion suddenly didn't matter. Neither did who was married to whom or how our blended family was coping. For a few minutes, we were all united in pride, in achievement, in memories and in emotion. It felt good.
Editor's Note: Ellen is a new DotMom. You can read her bio here.
What a wonderful story -- the true meaning of family. Looking forward to reading more of your DotMom posts!
Posted by: Elise | December 09, 2004 at 12:43 PM
What a nice story. Congratulations on making your extended family not only work but be a happy one where you can all share the achievements.
Posted by: Auntie M | December 08, 2004 at 02:22 AM
I must show this to my son, who is also the product of a mixed family and approaching his own Bar Mitzvah in 2 years.
Welcome to DotMoms!
Posted by: Betsy | December 06, 2004 at 07:23 PM
Sorry I couldn't be there dot-mom. I'm really proud of you writing about the Bat Mitzvah, though. It takes a quirky scenario like that, which neither you nor I could have envisioned to happen a few years ago, to really put you in your pew and make you realize that you're a mother all over again (or something not far off), and a happy one at that. Say hi to Angus McDougal for me. :) Love, JG
Posted by: The 21 year old son | December 06, 2004 at 06:21 PM
What a world.
Posted by: muse | December 06, 2004 at 02:12 PM
welcome to DotMoms and congratulations on the work it takes to develop a happy blended family - especially when blending religions!
Posted by: amy | December 06, 2004 at 12:58 PM