M'Kor

I feel crushed by the news that Congregation M’Kor Shalom, a local synagogue near and dear to my heart, will be shutting its doors.

It will be merging with another congregation (Temple Emanuel) nearby, as both are dealing with declining memberships but are optimistic that this partnership will create a thriving community for both sets of members once again.

For that, I am happy, but I will miss the frequent reminders of what M’Kor did for me in the early years of motherhood, which I often think about as I pass by while driving around town.

Only because of the close proximity to my first house did I step into M’Kor at all; I felt drawn to it because I could literally see the synagogue from my front window, and it opened the same year as I was looking for a nursery school for my almost-3-year-old son.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I checked it out, but right away I felt an energy that was refreshing and joyous. The kids appeared engaged, and I could hear lots of laughing; the teachers were smiling and seemed nurturing; and the Jewish theme in artwork, song and storytelling and the embracing of holidays was something I had never known and was so excited about not only for my kids, but for me, too.

We enrolled Michael in summer camp, and he stayed at M’Kor for a variety of nursery school and enrichment programs, followed by Allison who started earlier with me in “Mommy and me” classes and then Amy, who stayed through kindergarten, for a grand total of about 11 years of programming, holiday celebrations, playdates, birthday parties, wonderful friendships and a whole lot of insight.

This is where I first came to understand the phrase: “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child."

Although not a youngster at 30 when I ventured in to M’Kor initially with 2 little ones in tow, I was nearly clueless when it came to knowledge about babies or toddlers. Until giving birth to my own kids, I had only briefly spent time with younger people: I had never changed a diaper, put anyone to bed or had any responsibility whatsoever for anyone other than myself.

The fact of the matter is that not only was I in the dark about the physical care of children, but I also didn’t know anything about emotional wellness.

The only positive spin I can put on my lack of experience and understanding is that at least I was aware that I knew nothing about this motherhood gig...but I was open to learning.  

My M’Kor years, in retrospect, felt like daily mom coaching. It was an ongoing collaboration between smart and savvy childhood experts and me (and other moms who were open to it), working together to raise my children so they’d become well-adjusted and develop with confidence and a sense of independence.  

The teachers made it all happen, always willing to spend the time and share with me how my kids were doing in class, from those happy and proud moments I could kvell over to those more challenging issues that I needed to learn how to address, including but not limited to their separation anxiety, shyness, not going to the potty, and acting out.   

They weren’t reprimanding me (or if they were, I blocked that out) so I didn’t feel under attack; they were moving me along to do what my kids needed, such as my making more playdates for them, seeing life through their eyes, learning how to effectively discipline, understanding the importance of consistency, and much, much more.   

I formed meaningful friendships during those years with my kids’ friends’ moms, teachers and as a result of experiencing the generosity of spirit and kindness of others. Women would reach out to me when they’d see me struggle and say, “I know what that’s like...don’t worry” or “This won’t last forever,” or “Let’s go out to lunch,” and flash a warm smile my way. It all felt so good to receive, and to give back, too.     

M'Kor was the first place I got involved with as a mom and where I met and spent time with other moms, other than my terrific neighbors. It set the stage for enjoying Jewish life in a community and with my family. The teachers equipped me with their wisdom and provided tools that I was able to put into practice. All this did more for me than I could ever fully express.  

This place was, without a doubt, where I started to grow up.

Someone can buy this building, tear it down, and there will be no trace of it...except in my heart.