Visiting Schneider Children’s Medical Center with Birthright Israel Volunteer

I’m from Texas. I officially joined the Tribe when I was twenty-three. But my journey to conversion began years earlier, at a Jewish day camp in Austin where I worked as a camp counselor. I felt like myself there. Being among Jewish people who shared the same values, and getting to impart those values to the campers, felt like home.

People sometimes ask how I made that decision, but honestly, it never felt like a choice. As I told my beit din, sometimes the boldest choices in life don’t feel like choices at all—they feel like the only path you can walk. I was living in a Moishe House in Austin at the time, surrounded by roommates who represented the whole spectrum of Jewish life: a guy who grew up Reform, one who’d gone to a yeshiva in Jerusalem, another who was Modern Orthodox from New York. I spent a year “rabbi-shopping” before I found the congregation I now call home.

I took conversion classes there, which were less about lectures and more about group discussions: What do we see in the text? What meaning can we extract together? Eventually, I wrote my spiritual autobiography, had one-on-one meetings with my rabbi, and as of last November, I completed my beit din and mikveh. Now I plan my whole calendar around the Jewish community. It’s my main source of friends, my anchor. Sometimes during the week I’m just white-knuckling it until Shabbat—knowing that Friday night will bring a good meal, a bottle of wine, solid people, and time to just breathe.

When October 7 happened, the awfulness of it all hit me at once. By that point, I’d already been to Israel. I’d visited the Gaza envelope. I had friends there. It felt incredibly personal. I felt a deep need to step up—to tell non-Jewish friends what happened, to explain why it hurt, to make sure people in my community weren’t grieving alone. I even launched a book club because so many women had to leave their old book clubs due to antisemitism.

I’d heard of Birthright Israel for years. After I completed my conversion, I finally signed up for a volunteer trip. I wasn’t even sure I’d qualify, so I brought my conversion documents with me—just in case anyone at the airport asked for verification! Being in Israel felt amazing. I don’t see myself as “other” from people who were born Jewish. In adulthood, we all choose Judaism. Whether we were born into it or came to it later, it’s our choice how much we lean in.

Volunteering was the most rewarding part of the trip. Our group did gardening together, which was physically demanding but such a great bonding experience. At Schneider Children’s Medical Center, I was struck by the diversity in the hospital courtyard—Jews, Arabs, people from all over. Israel is truly a place where everyone can receive care. While volunteering, I met a mother and her baby from Cyprus. We did arts and crafts with the kids, and I even got to hold the baby—which doesn’t happen often! Watching the “stoic, manly” guys on our trip get covered in marker by little girls was hilarious.

Meeting the hospital director—who had personally received the child hostages released 55 days after October 7—was profoundly moving. I’d had those kids’ posters on my wall. Taking them down when they were home was one of the best feelings in the world. Volunteering isn’t something most people think to do on vacation, but it’s the perfect way to really integrate into the community and culture.

Visiting the Nova music festival site was the hardest moment of the trip. I’d seen videos, I knew some of the stories, but standing there was different. We also visited Mount Herzl, placed stones on graves, and heard from a father whose son had been murdered. His strength—that’s resilience. Meeting Israelis who endured unimaginable trauma and still found ways to live meaningfully was bonding in an indescribable way.

Birthright Israel came at a time when I felt deeply burnt out. For the first time in months, I felt like I mattered. My involvement with Israel matters. Advocacy matters. Educating non-Jews matters. My Judaism and my connection to Israel make me feel valued.

Birthright Israel gave me friends who will stay in my life forever, and a renewed sense of what truly matters. It reaffirmed that Judaism is the vehicle for everything most important to me: community, purpose, resilience, joy. If I met the donor who made my trip possible, I’d give them a big hug and tell them stories—the funny ones, the moving ones, the unforgettable moments. Like the night in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda market when I found myself singing and dancing with a religious family celebrating a birthday. Me—with my Methodist upbringing—dancing on a chair with an Orthodox girl to Israeli pop music.

It sounds crazy, but that’s Judaism to me. It’s home, it’s humor, it’s heartbreak, it’s healing. It’s the place—and the people—where I finally feel I belong.