We know our name, our age, where we live, what we do, who we are married to, who our children are, and what we have done in our lives. All of this tells us a great deal about ourselves, and yet it does not necessarily answer the question of who we are. For long before we could decide for ourselves who we would one day be, people had already begun telling us who we are — the well-behaved girl, the difficult boy, the responsible one, the successful one, the sensitive one, the one who always manages, the one who takes care of everyone. Family, society, life circumstances, and the expectations placed upon us gave us many names. Over the years, some of these became our identity. Sometimes we live within them for so long that it becomes difficult to recognise what truly belongs to us and what we have learned to be in order to receive love, a place, recognition, or blessing.
Some time ago, my grandson Aviel received a little brother named Rafael. From the very first photo...
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