Two weeks ago, when I stepped off the plane at St. Louis Lambert Airport on a Wednesday afternoon, my husband Scott didn’t know what to expect, other than I would be a little jet lagged and probably tired of drinking iced coffee and shopping (impossible). He knew I did a lot of praying, learning, sightseeing, female bonding, and falafel eating, but how would my trip change me as a wife, a mother, and a woman?

• Now that I’ve been on a spiritual journey to my Jewish homeland, would I make my family go to temple more often than on the high holidays?
• Would I start keeping kosher?
• Would I dress more modestly, and practice Tzniut, by wearing a fashionable headscarf? (No more bad hair days, it’s tempting).
• Would my Hebrew vocabulary expand beyond “Shalom” and “Boker Tov” and “Toda Raba?”
• Would I want to sell our two-story house in the burbs and live on a kibbutz?
• Would I slave in the kitchen and cook Jewish delicacies, such as matzo ball soup, freshly baked challah, and homemade ruggalah every single Shabbat? (He wishes).

The truth is, I have changed, especially when it comes to my attitude and actions towards my husband. The thing is, he doesn’t even know I’m making a conscious effort to be nicer, more appreciative, and calmer about petty things that used to bother me. Shhh, it’s a little secret between you and me, and besides, he never reads my blog anyway.

Let’s face it. If I were HALF as sweet to my spouse as I am my toy poodle Luci, my marriage would feel like a honeymoon after almost 20 years. Instead, like many marriages, our lives get busy over the years and our priorities shift from each other to our children. My biggest fear is that by the time we become empty nesters, we won’t even know each other anymore. Scary.

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