The real Bar Mitzvah

This morning was my son's "real" or weekday bar mitzvah. ( Not that the one that will be taking place this Shabbat ISN'T real --just that the more intimate setting of morning services feels like a much lower octane easier to focus on event ) My husband, son and I went to services together. As we got there, our friend Meyer was there with his video camera, ready to catch the images of us walking into the chapel.

The day after our son was born, my parents came to help us out. My father went to morning services and invited Meyer to come to my son's Bris. Meyer took this invitation as a continuing obligation to my son. We have been so lucky that Meyer decided to take on this role in the life of my son and our family. Everyone should have a relative like Meyer. We aren't related by blood, but my father's off hand invitation has created that lovely relationship.

My husband helped my son put on his t'fillin. Yes, I teared up hearing them both reciting " I will betroth you to me to you for ever, I will betroth you to me with justice, righteousness, kindness and mercy..."

I led the P'seukei d'zimra , the early part of the service and my husband the rest of the morning service. Our son read Torah. Seeing the warm and loving eyes of the folks who have supported us through both my mother in law's death last year and my father's death this fall, looking on as our son read Torah was quite wonderful.

My husband and I were called for the third aliya, the last reading. As we finished saying the blessings over the Torah my son said " OK, you can cry now." But I didn't at that moment.

I did cry while I said Kaddish at the end of the service.

We took our son out for breakfast afterwards. He is one of those kids who forgets to eat. He ate aBelgian waffle, a bowl of Froot Loops and thought about ordering French Toast as well. He went off to school and I have to add a strip of wool to the silk stripe on his tallit to help keep it on his shoulders a bit better.