Dear Baby,

I cuddle you tightly in my arms, as if my arms can safeguard you from the woes of the world.

I wish to keep you secure, warm and protected.

But I also realize that I must let you go.

I stand you in the middle of the room, now looming ever so large compared to your tiny figure.

I move away.

Come baby, walk towards me. My hands are held out, yet beyond your grasp.

You tumble over and fall. You've scraped your delicate knee. You cry.

I kiss your hurt; wipe away your tears. Then I put you down once again.

You look at me with a wounded look.

Why have I abandoned you? Why do I make you stand alone? Why do I keep retreating just beyond your reach, making you take one step and yet another?

But look, dear baby, you are starting to walk. Unsure. Unstable. Yet you are using your own two feet to move yourself forward.

I smile at you reassuringly. Enthusiastically, I applaud your efforts.

You begin to feel proud of your accomplishments. You begin to realize how to advance.

You fall down many more times, but each time you get up, increasingly more willing to keep trying, again and again, until you master this feat.

You realize that I am here, smiling at your accomplishments, shedding tears when you stumble, waiting for you, just a little further away.

Dear Child,

Come little one, today is your first day of school.

Let me brush your golden locks and adjust your freshly pressed collar. What excitement! Today you begin a whole new phase in your journey of learning.

Here, take my hand. Let us walk together to your new classroom. A new world is opening before you; a new circle of friends in whom to place your trust; a new teacher to answer your queries.

A new world, somewhat separate from me.

I blink away my tears, as I consider how much emptier my days will be without hearing your bright laughter or your constant chatter.

I must not let you notice my hesitation. I must not show you my fears.

How I pray that on your new journey you will not encounter insensitive teachers. How I wish the children you meet will never utter hurtful words to you.

Dear child, you are so tender.

I plant a giant smile on my face to reassure your frightened eyes, eyes that are pleading with me not to leave you.

Come my child. There is no need to hide behind my gathered skirt. Be brave. Here is a tissue to wipe away your tears. Gently, I smooth your quivering chin.

The school bell rings loudly and I force myself to pull my hand out of your desperate hold as I silently wave good-bye.

Don't worry dear child. My thoughts will be with you. I'll be here at the end of your day, waiting for you, eager to share in your adventures and discuss all that you learned and gained.

Dear Daughter,

We couldn't have chosen a better day for your wedding. It is warm and beautiful outside, not a cloud in the sky.

Silently, I pray that your future horizons be so clear and that your days be filled with even more warmth and beauty.

Come, my daughter. There is so much to do.

After weeks and months of frantic preparation, the guests will be arriving momentarily. The hall is all set up. The photographer wants to begin taking pictures.

Despite the constant smile on my face, I hope the camera won't capture the lines of worry around my eyes.

I am so happy for you, dear daughter.

I swallow hard to suppress the huge lump that has formed in my throat.

Today, you begin the next stage of your life. You are no longer my little girl; you have grown into a woman.

You are leaving my home to set up your own.

You look so beautiful, dear daughter. Your elegant, pure white gown adorned with tiny, delicate iridescent pearls hugs your petite frame. Your delicate tiara resting on top of your ebony curls frames your radiant, pure face.

It seems like just yesterday that I cuddled you in my arms, just moments after you were born. I held you then, my first born child, tightly against my chest, determined to never let you go. As I wrapped you cozily in the hospital's soft, white blankets, I vowed to protect you forever from life's coldness and harshness.

And I embrace you now, knowing that in but a short moment, you will leave your childhood behind as you bravely enter into your new, unexplored destiny.

Remember, dear daughter, no matter how mature you grow, whatever your future may hold, my vow to protect you will remain. Wherever you may be, I will always be your mother, always there for you.

Be good to her, dear bridegroom. She is so precious. She is so special.

Be good to her, dear G‑d. She is my love.

Dear Spouse,

Today we celebrate our anniversary. So many years of happiness and joy, years of growth and development, but also years laced with stress and sadness.

As a bride, I remember how I dreamt that our relationship would unfold.

We would never argue with one another. Never would harsh words pass between us.

We would do everything together; never be apart for a night. Never face a crisis in our relationship.

How naïve were my thoughts.

Just imagine the intimacy that we now share, only because of all that we’ve gone through.

Yes, you were always there for me, and me for you, but sometimes from a distance. Sometimes you took a step back allowing me to discover myself. You understood when I needed time alone and you didn’t stifle me with your tender care.

And that is precisely why we became even closer, vacillating between dependence and independence, between intimate closeness and needed space.

Life showered us with its share of hardships. We had our own unique set of difficulties to overcome. Each was a stress on the relationship, stretching further apart the elastic bond that ties us together. But after surmounting each challenge, we meant more to each other and the bond tightened.

As we reached new plateaus of awareness, our relationship deepened just as it became more flexible.

I can only wish us, dear spouse, many more blessed years together-years of growth and development and years where we become ever closer.

Dear Father in Heaven,

My unsure toddler learned how to walk under my watchful gaze. My dependent child grappled with her first day at school, away from my comforting presence.

As a bride, I left my childhood home to embark on a journey of married life. And as a couple, my anniversary commemorates years of shared joys and pains.

All of these are landmarks in my life; all periods of growth in personal development. While seemingly outgrowing the former relationship, each event marks a new turn, deepening its very bonds, bringing it to a higher plateau.

Growth can be painful. Yet as a daughter, mother and wife, I realize that for the sake of a future happiness, sometimes difficult growing pains need to be suffered for the sake of continued development. Heart-wrenching though it is for me, each ultimately leads to greater growth and maturation, deepening the very relationship it seems to be impeding.

So, as I take a few steps away from my toddler as he learns the skill of walking, I think of the many times You seem to have abandoned us, retreating just beyond our reach, making us take one step and yet another. Pulling away from our desperate grasp, I wonder if You too, experience the heart-wrenching pain.

And as I take leave of my child, watching her pleading eyes on her first day of school, I think of You, watching and waiting, eager to hear how Your people has gained and grown from our very long learning experience.

As I think of the many new turns in our journey, both personally and collectively, I picture You — like the bride's mother, walking at her side to the Chupah, praying for her future happiness — accompanying us on our new destinies.

Or when I think of the long and difficult stretches of our exile — the strange countries or lands we were exiled to, or the sad and painful new eras in our national history — the many times we seemed to be embarking on a new journey without You, at our side — I imagine the elastic bond of the married couple.

I picture it stretching painfully to its limit, and, as it does, the couple reaching new and deeper plateaus of awareness, surmounting each challenge and each sorrow.

And amidst the heart-wrenching pain, when feeling is stretched to the limit, I feel some degree of comfort knowing how You and I, and You and all Your children, mean more to each other as the bond tightens even as it becomes more flexible.