Sometimes home is Milwaukee where I grew up in, and where my entire family lives still.  I’ve been deciding when I’ll go home this summer for our annual family retreat weekend.

Tonight I experienced another home, one that I had forgotten was a vital part of my weave. It was my graduate school, JFK University. I have been attending JFKU since the fall of 2006, and I’ve come a long way since the first term, when I was shocked we were actually meditating in class. Now I’m upset if the meditation is too short.Traditional courses in developmental psychology, along with ancestral studies, terrapsychology, and paradigms of consciousness have profoundly altered the way I interact with the world.

I’ve taken time away from the school lately because of my extensive book tour. So when I walked into my class on Sufism and Tim and Carissa welcomed me with their huge smiles, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of coming home. Sitting between them in our small semicircle of five students, I had to hold back my impulse to hug them each tightly, and ask them everything about their lives. When we did have a chance to talk, I was moved by their open energy, their candid expression of their feelings about break ups and recoveries. Standing at the exit after class, I hugged Tiffany and made plans to see her this week, and saw Keith in the distance outside.

When I started grad school I was intimidated by my differences with my fellow students. They were a group of brilliant, soulful, single, twenty and thirty-somethings. They went to grad school and did non-profit work.  I was a recent stay-at-home mom serving lunch at my kids’ school. They had undergraduate degrees in Psychology. I had a degree in Retail Management. They came to class in soft-soled shoes and flowing blouses and t-shirts. I wore heels and business attire. They meditated. I wrestled cattle.  But while I was busy wondering if I had landed in the wrong program, they were busy embracing me. Never once did they judge my different lifestyle. They listened to my random input in the classroom, and in turn, helped me to listen to myself. Plus they gave me a whole new gaggle of people to nurture. These were the students who had gently escorted me to my next phase of life three years ago.

Tonight I learned that they will all be graduating in June. I became terribly sad. Not because I will take another year – I knew I was on a slower track due to my career, parenting and book tour.  I became sad because I only get their love, their intellectual sparring, and their humor for the next six months. In many ways I feel like I am at my best in this circle of friends.

And that is where I found home tonight.

At first I thought the summaries bothered me because I am more comfortable looking ahead than I am looking back. Or it could be because I thought it was preposterous to try to sum up 365 days  in one column or television segment.

But then it dawned on me. The reason I didn’t want to review the last year was because it was dangerous territory.  If  I dipped my toe in the water of nostalgia, I would likely be pulled in by the tide of gratitude.  If I gave it just a little thought, if I put together the pieces of the last twelve months, I would see that I had a year overflowing with mind-blowing blessings. And I really needed to write a final paper for grad school today.

As I sat in the pew of my synagogue, mesmerized by Harrison’s d’var torah as he become a bar mitzvah, I knew it was a special year. A shy child become a bold man, looking his guests in the eye as he shook their hands, allowing himself to be body-passed over the dancing crowd, hugging me when he thanked me and Michael at the end of the night.  It was a year of watching Olivia mature, too, as she generously handed her brother the limelight,  and as she made fresh choices for healthy friendships. There was nothing like watching her ferociously face opponents on the basketball court, too.

My brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, sisters-in-law and parents astounded me with their bottomless well of love in 2009. They flew out to California for Harrison’s bar mitzvah, and filled the crowd at my book launch in Milwaukee. They called me and offered me support as I decided to leave consultancy and seek the next career move. Throughout the last year, they constantly told me words that still make me cry today: I’ve got your back.

It was a year of nieces. Sabrina moved in with us, and Stephanie spent after school hours with the kids every week. They both share their spirit, their humor, their zeal for life with our households. They  are forbidden to leave the state. I’ve offered them incentives to lure their siblings to California.

This year I finally deeply understand the transitions my mom had the courage to go through in her own life, and I credit her with my strength and stamina. She was my first one to read my manuscript, she is my first call after a victory, and the first voice of support on a bad day. She held up my book at every one of her networking meetings, boasting about her daughter and selling books, and she scheduled my book launch in Milwaukee. Forget the woman behind the man. She’s the mom behind the woman.

Hikes with girlfriends and candid conversations were the highlights of my weeks last year. I am so fortunate to have friends who showed such unbridled enthusiasm when The New Jew was published, and their support for everything I do means the world to me.

My book tour gave me the unexpected bonus of spending time with friends I had lapsed with. They opened their homes to me when I stayed in their cities, feeding me, giving me vitamins when I was getting overrun from exhaustion. I felt nurtured and loved every time I travelled, and friendships have found second lives.

A surprise romance opened my heart to love in a new stage of life, and I am so very lucky. It’s different this time around – kids, schedules, careers and life’s daily bustle make it challenging to see each other sometimes, but I’m learning to integrate, and it is lovely.

It was a year with death. My brother-in-law Marshall passed away.  I miss him very much. I don’t think I’ll ever see a smile like his again. I was stunned by the death of my friend Robert, a friend of mine from Larchmont Temple. When I was last there he took a photo of me that I loved so much, I use it on my Facebook author page. They, and others, are gone. But they are not forgotten.

It is confirmed – I cannot possibly summarize an entire year in an essay. For every sentence of gratitude I begin, ten more pop into my mind. How can I recall each pomegranate colored sunset over my deck, the cat’s smug expression from the sofa, the raucous games of Pictionary, the sound of the branches brushing my window, the taste of the best smoothie ever, the feel of my daughter’s hand in mine?

I have just one New Year’s resolution: to give back even half as much as I received last year.

Happy New Year.

I pulled by glance away from the window and began to read the paper. Within minutes all of my gratitude fell away like a bare foot on a mossy rock. I thought of Einstein’s famous quote “The biggest decision one will make in life is to decide whether the world is hostile, or whether it is friendly.” I knew what viewpoint I had chosen. And it clashed with the media’s chosen view. The paper was one big tome of disastrous, tragic things happening everywhere. I couldn’t help but wonder – did I really need any of this information?

There was the couple who died on Thanksgiving Day while digging for clams, and a man who perished when his sailboat capsized.  Their were stories about the man who shot his two kids on Thanksgiving Day, and the couple who mocked our President’s State Dinner by crashing the party. And who could miss the breaking news about  Black Friday early shoppers, boasting $1,000 in shoe purchases?

I’ll admit I’m a tirelessly positive person. I’ve confessed to my addiction to inspirational literature and I do literally own a pair of rose colored glasses. But I’m not saying our world is not in dire need of repair. I would just like some balanced journalism.I want to read a story about the family who came together, sharing a big holiday dinner despite the parents’ divorce. Or the couple who decided to forego their own holiday dinner to serve those in homeless shelters. Or the family who welcomed their loved one home from Iraq.

It shouldn’t be that difficult –  there is plenty of good news out there.  Did you know that doctors report that our efforts to change the climate is improving our health? By subscribing to Good News Network you can receive this and other positive news in your email everyday. Happy News will tell you about every day heroes, like the airline pilot who founded an orphanage, and that thousands of new species have been discovered under the sea despite the dismal reports about the environment.

Thw Green Bay Press Gazette devotes the week between Christmas and New Year’s reporting stories of people who make a difference, and Channel 7 in Denver honors local heroes on the air. Recently  CNN hosted a gala honoring every day heroes.  Andrea Ivory received a grant for providing free cancer screening tests, and 21-year-old Efren Penaflorida, who founded a mobile pushcart program to distribute books to children in slums in his native Philippines was honored, too.

We all know that word travels fastest and and most persuasively in conversation. So while you take in the mainstream media’s version of the news, remember that’s just one side of the story.

“It’s a birthday gift from my mom,” she grinned. “Open it!”

I hadn’t expected a birthday gift. As close as Chrissy and I are, we rarely exchange gifts (although she does have a habit of grabbing miscellaneous things from around her house and offering them up to me). I pulled the tissue away from the package and uncovered a rhinestone-encrusted tiara, spelling ”Happy Birthday.”

“Oh, my god. It’s perfect.”

Seems Chrissy was spreading her own formula for the female pick-me-up. We all have them. I’m not talking about a hike, or a massage, a night out with girlfriends. I’m referring to those little secret indulgent things we do for ourselves. I have a friend who is a believer in the healing effects of a late night burger and fries. Another wears seductive lingerie under t-shirt and jeans, knowing she is the only one who will see it. One girlfriend dons a cocktail dress at home with full make-up and has imaginary look-where-I-am-now conversations with old boyfriends. These friends shall all remain nameless to protect their identities (and to throw you off the scent of which indulgence is mine).

But I feel comfortable revealing my sister’s secret since she is actively recruiting. Plus I was there at its inception.

“We have somewhere to go today,” she told me during a recent trip back home.  “I’ve been waiting for you because I need you with me.”

I looked side to side. “Where are we going?” I whispered.

“To buy my tiara.”

As we browsed the display of expensive tiaras (or is it tiari?) at the bridal boutique, Chrissy was getting increasingly excited.

“Its so good to do this with you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because when I do it with my daughters they’re mortified.”

I imagined my teenage nieces shopping for their prom dresses, finding their mother across the store, gazing into a mirror from under a shimmering headdress.

“Where are you going to wear it?” I asked.

“You know, around the house. When I’m doing the dishes, or tidying the kitchen.” Sort of like my false eyelashes, I thought.  “I don’t think I would wear it while teaching online – that would be too distracting.”

I didn’t fully understand her draw to the tiara until I brought my gift with me to a birthday dinner my girlfriends threw for me. After they toasted me, I toasted them right back.

“I have been through so many transitions in the last few years…it was through your love and support I was able to get through it at all,” I effused. “And with that,” I reached down into my purse and donned my own, personal, sparkling tiara, “I thank you for this wonderful birthday party.”

The community table we shared burst into applause, as did the wait staff. “You’re glowing,” my friends told me. “The tiara really does something!”

It’s a shame I can’t wear it to the store. After all, it says Happy Birthday. That would be conspicuous.

I think it is magical how, through life cycle events, the meaning of life becomes so simple. I experience it a births, funerals, b’nei mitzvahs, weddings, our family retreat…. and my birthday gives me the same reminder. The only thing in life that matters is love. It’s just not that complicated.

And today was not about quantity, but quality. Friends who wrote moving messages on cards, flowers that were dropped off at my door, exquisite handmade gifts from my children, dinner made by my former husband…. every single phone call, card, text message and email touched me.  Just as I remember every face at my mother-in-law’s funeral, I was moved by every gesture made for me on my birthday. Really? I ask the Divine through a smile and tears. Do I really deserve this?

But what I’m really crying about is that a day like this only reveals what already exists every day, if only we slow to see it. The friendships, the love, the children…. love abounds every day. When I hold a book event, I am grateful for every person who takes the time to be there. When I attend a meeting for work, each employee who participates makes a difference. I think they key is to know that we make an impact on others. It can be so easy for me to underestimate. We are all connected. We just let it shine on days like these.

Last year my friend, Raegan, told me that she always expected me to book our cattle drive, then cancel. “I figure I have a 50-50 chance you’ll show up.” I was appalled I had such a reputation. As I reflected on it, I realized that I did that in many areas of my life. Schedule a lunch, then find I’m “too busy.” Plan a hike, then postpone. What I failed to see is that it hurt people. While I cancelled because I thought I wasn’t that important to others, the message interpreted was that the other person didn’t matter to me.

I have strived to change that, and today I am reminded what a difference we make to one another. Birthday, hike, meeting, lunch… showing up is powerful. Throw in a dose of joy and celebration, and we can move mountains with our love.

Today, on my birthday, in the mid-point of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I am grateful for the abundance of love in my life. And now, looking to the New Year, I know one of the wrongs that I will strive to correct – to feel that gratitude every day.