On the 20th of Elul, 5783, I converted to Judaism.
I can't say how happy I am. I still have waves of emotion washing over me like a wake in this liminal space of my transmigration. Both elation and echos of anxiety. Sometimes, I just suddenly sit up straight and think, HOLY #%& I'M JEWISH
On the 22nd, I went to Shul for my first minyan (Although the minyan was after dark, technically on the 23rd).
On the morning of the 23rd, I went to the morning services.
The morning of the 23rd of Elul was a rainy day. Later, I would look at the rain gauge and see we received more than four and 1/8th inches (10.4CM) of rain over those two days, with most of it on the 23rd.
I took Cassandra with me that morning. On the day of my conversion, she was a month shy of three years old. She gets to stay in the playroom downstairs during the morning services. She loves this, as playing with (or at least near) other children is the pinnacle of her entertainment.
After dropping Cassandra off, I sat down at a usual place near the back and donned my tallit to prepare for service. One of the gabbaim greeted me and congratulated me on my conversion. I had been counting down with him for weeks, and the tallit was a giveaway that my status had changed. Then he asked if I would be comfortable with an Aliyah.
At first, I was unsure what to answer, but this isn't the type of honor I could refuse without a pretty strong reason, so I accepted. How could I not?!
I got the second of seven aliyot. I've even watched videos on the internet on precisely this subject, but it was some time ago and without the expectation of learning and using what I learned. I had, of course, watched hundreds of aliyot. I've been to at least 45 services at this Shul and this bimah over the last year, and each had 7. I've seen people who looked like they were born chanting and people who looked like they were sounding it out for the first time, but I couldn't even remember where to stand.
I did my best cram sessions reading the siddur when I had a chance, but the time between prayers was minimal. After the Torah circuit, I went to the front corner, sat, and waited for the first reading to conclude. Then, at the appointed moment, I put trepidation aside and walked onto the bimah.
The two Rabbis stood opposite each other, flanking the podium, and Rabbi Jacob smiled happily as I approached, and he began announcing my assent by my new Hebrew name. I kissed the tzitzit to the Torah and read.
Most of the Birkhot Ha-Torah - the call and response and the blessings before and after the reading - that I recite are words I know. I could almost keep up with my pace; I fell a little behind on the long sentences. In the traditional way, the Rabbi prompted when I stumbled on a syllable or mispronounced v'hayei. And then I was finished.
I watched the Sefer Torah as the yad transversed the papyrus and listened to the words from next to me.
Moments later, the reading stopped, and I had to do the closing blessing. Then, I was shuffled over to the side with the other Rabbi to remain standing up there for the next Aliya and reading.
After returning to my seat, I quietly excused myself for a sip of water and took a moment to absorb all of what just happened.
While I was back in the lobby, I went downstairs to check in on Cassandra. Then, I returned to my seat for the rest of the service.
Cassandra came with me to Kiddush Lunch, and after a bit of food, she began running around and playing, as all children should.
Many people congratulated me on the Aliya, with some comment that I did it well or some query as to if it was my first (it was, after all). I didn't feel I had done well, but later, I'd look back at the livestream and realize it wasn't actually bad.
The Rabbi offered up a l'chaim - a toast - to the Bot Mizvah and to my conversion (permission was asked and granted).
At one point, Cassandra decided to refill her cup of lemonade by herself. I saw her reaching for it from the chair I was in a few yards away, but as I started to get up, I saw one of the older children, one perhaps Bot Mitzvah age, going to help her, but she seemed to fill it herself. Mazel Tov, Cassandra.
After Shul, Cassandra and I drove to my friend Mona's house. I've known her for 20 years now, and she goes to the same synagogue, but more importantly to Cassandra, she has cats. So far, Cassandra has only petted a few brave cats to let her walk up to them on walks around the neighborhood, and she wants to play more. The rain was pouring down, so it was a good day for an excellent inside activity like playing with cats.
We kicked off our shoes just inside the door to keep from tracking the weather around and got our first introduction to Mona's cats. The first cat she met was an orange tabby, no longer a kitten but not yet filled out. Young and adventurous, he quickly came over to investigate the newcomers and began sniffing our shoes, generating that intense concern unique to toddlers.
Mona's husband, Elias, was just ready to head out the door, running late for work. With the noise of the rain, he had slept through till people started returning home from services, walking to work would make him at least 30 minutes late, especially in this weather. I couldn't imagine him walking in this torrential rain, so I offered to drive him if Mona could watch Cassandra for a few minutes, so off we went.
Even in the car, the rain slowed us down, but I was able to drop him off only 6 minutes after the hour, so I turned and headed back. Gas was low due to my own poor planning, and I had to get gas. I don't particularly appreciate getting gas on Shabbat, but my options are forced once I'm away from home.
Naturally, my card didn't work at the pump, and I had to go in to pre-pay. On the way back, I noticed the car opposite me on the pump, watching me. She was a shorter, pale, blonde girl, probably in her mid-20s. I didn't think much about it; she just watched me approach, but that didn't seem inappropriate, given we were sharing a gas pump.
I pumped my gas and was soon done and went to get in my car when she spoke to me. "Cool car", she said.
"Thank you," came my reply, but truly I was baffled. I drive a 14-year-old blue Toyota Prius. I can't, for the life of me, think of a way it stands out.
"Jesus loves you," came the follow-up. If you want one phrase that will set me on edge, this is it. My mind instantly went from casual conversation to ensuring this conversation couldn't go anywhere. I quickly quipped, "Somebody has to," before I even thought about it. Not a moment later, I was in the car, getting ready.
A flick of my hand through my hair verified that this was one of the few times I still had my kippah on in public. I didn't know if she realized I was trans or Jewish. Neither was a particularly good reason for an awkward encounter.
I was back at Mona's house with Cassandra a minute or two later. Cassandra was emerging from a potty break with just her dress as her other clothing was "damp" but was otherwise happy enough.
Mona and I talked as Cassandra chased kittens with dangly cat toys for a while till the rain let up a bit, and Cassandra and I made our way back to the car to head home.
I don't think much else happened that day, at least nothing else comes to mind.
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