So, why does one decide to become Jewish? It’s funny that you should ask. Well, it all started around eight years old when I was introduced to religion in catechism (sp?) classes. I could not reconcile the idea of the Ten Commandments and Jesus Christ. No matter how it was explained, it smelled of idolatry for me and it was just plain wrong. I still was forced to do my communion because according to my mother and my whole world, the only religion that existed was Catholicism.

Meanwhile, my mom is becoming crazier and crazier and my dad is nowhere to be found. My best friend growing up? G-d. I didn’t understand praying at church because I prayed all the time. Who else was I going to talk to about all my problems?

Cut to fourteen-years-old, stunningly, my mother informs us all—my sisters are 9 and 5–that we can all convert to other religions IF and when we complete our confirmation (Catholic equivalent of Bat Mitzvah/Bar Mitzvah). After that, she says we’re free. My sisters are too young to care at this point but I fully immerse myself that summer in studying religion. I take out most of the religion section out of the library and I discover…Judaism! I snag my mother’s Star of David to wear to school. Not-so-nice friends at school yell “Heil Hitler” when they see me. Then we discuss the Holocaust when a Holocaust survivor visits our English class and instead of being “scared off,” I am even more intrigued. How wonderful must something be that people want to break you because of it?

I decide to convert to Judaism and at the same time, my mom tells me that she is anti-Semitic (slaps me). Sadness ensues. Still never pray to Jesus and my best friend is still G-d especially when I’m crying myself to sleep as my mom’s sanity ebbs.

Seventeen-years-old after praying my little heart out, my aunt saves me by helping me run away from home. I run to live with my grandmother (mom’s mom). She’s anti-Semitic and when I start dating Jewish guys (for some reason I feel more comfortable with them), my grandmother turns against me. Luckily, it doesn’t take much and I’m forced to move in with aunt until she kicks me out.

Moving more than eight times, being thoroughly poor, is not conducive to religious conversion. I pretty much decide that G-d doesn’t love me anymore. In fact, though most of my friends are Jewish, I do not think of converting until I am 24 years old when my best friend turns ba’al teshuva and comes back from Israel an Orthodox Jew. Still thoroughly poor, I realize that G-d wasn’t out to get me, there was a master plan and thank G-d for letting me in on parts of it.

I immerse myself into reading about Judaism so I can understand my friend’s “return” to Judaism. In immersing myself, I fall deeply in love with Judaism, feel much closer to G-d than I ever could have imagined and decided to fulfill a childhood (and now adult) dream of converting. The more I read about Judaism, the more I learn, the more in love I am with worshipping G-d through Judaism and raising adorable Jewish kids and hopefully, adorable Jewish grandkids eventually.

Rav Elie tried to convince me to go back to Christianity very briefly. I told him I gave away all my pants. He told me that Christianity is not a bad way to worship G-d. I told him I had always thought it was idolatry and no amount of explanation had ever changed that idea. I don’t know what I said but I convinced him that this was the way for me, it is very much my belief that I was always meant to be Jewish. Trust me, I assured Rav Elie that I tried to go back to Christianity when my “religious” feelings cropped out. I went to church. I made Christian friends and nothing that they said could change feelings that I developed at a young age. I thought maybe it had been Catholicism, not Christianity but I quickly surmised that Christianity is NOT the way for me.

I love the idea of “joining” a religion that doesn’t feel that it’s better than everyone else’s. Technically, I could follow the seven laws given to Noah and go to heaven: “do all seven, go to heaven.” Somehow, for me, personally, that’s just not enough. I have a bone to pick with G-d and it is one where I ask for forgiveness for all the years I was confused and become ever more thankful for this part of my life, the happiest part ever.