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Hometown

Park City, UT

Joie de VIVre

Watching my son ski, sharing dinner with my family, hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, connecting with friends, and dancing with my family in the living room.

VIV Moment

Moving to Park City from New York City five years ago, I dreamed of raising the expectation bar for myself: that I could live a life more connected to my soul than to the needs of any one job or obligation, and that that move would root me more firmly in a larger community.

I didn’t connect the dots to my role in the growth of our Jewish community until the day we officially broke ground on our congregation’s first permanent home. The night before, I’d learned I was pregnant with our second child, and I was totally in awe of the experience of becoming a mother again, and of the thought of raising my children in this beautiful environment with a rich spiritual life.

I find that I’m most excited about the pedestrian moments, the ones that happen every week when we attend services, when my son insists on sitting in the first row so he can see exactly what our guitar-playing rabbi is doing at any moment. I see that building — the dream our congregation barely dared to harbor five years ago, now in the early stages of construction — as an expression of those moments, and of the strength of the community that shares them.

The children seem to sense that we’re doing this for them. The big kids look out for the little ones, and they claim each other. They clamor to religious school on Monday afternoons, and get excited about celebrating the holidays together. My son doesn’t know that I spend time every month at board meetings helping to decide what the future of the community will look like (as well as the logistics of how much longer we’ll need to lease space, or what events we’re going to hold to welcome new members). He, blissfully, takes for granted that being Jewish is an important part of his life, just like grandparents and chocolate ice cream. Five years ago, we couldn’t take for granted that there would be a service every Sabbath. That day, sitting with my family, my son on my lap, his father next to us, and a joyful secret between us, I knew that the life I’d come here to find was real, and made of my willingness to recognize it.

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