Yoni came home from Miluim today with a bundle of mostly wilted flowers. They were handed out on base as soldiers headed home for a few days’ rest—a small gift to bring back, something to place on the table.
It struck me as the army’s quiet update on an old ritual. Like those little challah rolls our kids used to bring home from preschool every Friday—half-squashed in their backpacks, sometimes missing a bite, sometimes a little questionable, but always delivered with pride. These flowers, tired and drooping, carried the same message: this belongs at your table too.
And in a way, it feels like the perfect image for this year.
It has been a year of challenge and heartbreak. A year of holding our breath, of sending our children off in uniforms, of waiting for news. For us, it has meant watching our older children step into their own lives—in yeshiva, in the army, in college, or traveling the world—while still navigating daily life in the shadow of war and loss. It has been a year when joy and celebration sometimes felt muted, when resilience has been stretched thin.
And yet—here we are. Gathering once again around our tables. Bringing with us whatever we have to give, even if it feels slightly wilted, slightly broken.
This year, I am leaning in to the table with the wilted flowers. I’m going to embrace what is offered, however it comes. Those flowers on our table remind me that we are blessed simply to sit together—that there is still a table, and still people to gather around it.
It has been a hard year, a sad year and an inspired one. But there is something so affirming to live through a hard season and still choose to come together. I like the flowers. And I am grateful to have my kid home for a few days.
May this new year bring us the courage to carry both our wilted and our blooming gifts to the table—with humility and hope. Shanah Tova.