Yesterday I celebrated my birthday.  I had the most wonderful day surrounded by my family and friends.  We lit the first candle of the menorah immediately following havdallah and then I brought our older children to the annual games night at our Synagogue while my husband 'stayed home to put the baby to sleep.'  Apparently, he was doing more than just putting our youngest family member to sleep, he was setting up our home for a party.  A surprise birthday party for little old me.  My children and I came home to be greeted by our closest friends, alongside beautiful decorations and dozens of colourful balloons.  We ate delicious desserts, told jokes, reminisced, and sang songs to the beautiful melodies of the guitar my friend brought.  There were a few different community parties happening that evening, so the competition was high, and I am truly touched you chose to come celebrate with me!
 
The next morning, my husband and children insisted I "sleep in" (which actually means take the opportunity to stay in bed a few extra minutes and enjoy reading and relaxing).  They scurried downstairs to make what I thought was a pancake breakfast.  There were pancakes indeed, but there was also hash browns, bagels, lox, fresh orange juice, and sumptuous dessert.  Aside for the appetizing food, the best surprise of all was that my parents had come to participate in this special birthday breakfast. 
 
Our breakfast, turned brunch, extended well passed lunch.   We ate together, played draidels, sang songs, my children preformed guitar and dance recitals, and I was showered with hugs, kisses, and gifts.  Each child prepared a special handmade card, a couple of exquisite drawings, and a personally selected gift.  They recognize the value of giving a meaningful and individual gift, so they went through their belongings and picked items that they thought I would enjoy.  No one asked them to, they did this on their own, wrapped them, and placed them weeks in advance on my bedside dresser (talk about suspense). 
 
My oldest daughter gave me a mini zip-up wallet ; I guess she noticed that I am always misplacing my bus pass and credit card.  She also told me that it has a pouch to put change, and that she has heard me comment that my current wallet (which is actually just a tiny business card holder) doesn't have a spot for cash (who carries cash anymore anyway?).  She said that I often remark it's a shame I don't have space for money in my wallet because I would love to have cash easily accessible to give to people who ask for charity.  She is correct, I plan to the bank and take out some cash so we can make regular donations when people ask us.  My oldest son gave me a cuddly koala keychain (from my pre-children adventures in Australia) because I often misplace my keys (along with my bus pass and credit card). 
 
Everyone had a good laugh at the thoughtful (and practical) nature of their gifts.  We had only two hours to unwind (and clean up from both surprises) before we went to a special Iron Chef program.  This was held at the Centre for Judaism, the community that I grew up in, having known the Rabbi and Rebbetzin for well over two decades.  I saw many of my surrogate Bubbies and Zaidies, who have known me since I was 6 years old.  They all wished me a happy birthday, and the Rabbi gave a special l'chaim in my honour.  We then put on our aprons and got to work to create a three course meal in under an hour.
 
It has been a very busy (and stressful) fall and winter, so had my children not put the birthday gifts by my bedside, and had my birthday not coincided with Chanukah, and had my husband not planned these special surprises, I could have forgotten it.  It was one of those birthdays that could have easily slipped by without realizing that I was a year older. 
 
Growing up, I had always wished that I was born just a month earlier or later.  My birthday parties were often cancelled because of inclement weather (snow or icy road conditions).  Or there was a poor turnout because friends were inflicted with colds or the flu or they were on a winter vacation.  In terms of gifts, I often felt that I got the short end of the stick and that my "super" birthday-Chanukah gifts were actually a glorified two-for-one special (no offense Mama and Papa, I was and still continue to be extremely appreciative, I'm only joking... sort of...).
 
As I have grown older, I have come to appreciate being born on the first night of Chanukah (in fact, I have come to appreciate many things which I was previously ungrateful for as a child).  On Chanukah, there is a built in reason to get together to celebrate with family and friend.  Putting together a birthday party often gets side swiped by other more pressing matters (such as laundry, dishes, or bedtime routines), whereas Chanukah never passes by without a party, a donut, and a latke (or two).
 
This Chanukah, be sure to get together with some friends, family, neighbours, or colleagues; pull out your menorah, candles, and draidel; and make (or buy) some donuts and latkes.  Life will go on being busy whether or not we take the time to celebrate, so don't turn down the party because you're tired, don't ignore an invitation from a friend because it's cold out.  Or better yet, invite some friends to your home and celebrate the holiday of light together.
 
Happy Chanukah,
Ettie Shurack                      

This morning, my mother informed me that today, December 21, 2016, is the shortest day of the year.  My mother told me so, therefore I don’t need to fact check (note to my kids, when mothers tell you something, consider it to be fact).  Shortest day of the year means least amount of sunlight hours, thus the darkest day of the year.  It is no surprise that December is often a time when depression spikes, as does self harm and suicide.  Just like plants and vegetation, we humans need sunlight!  We thrive in the warm glow spreading across the sky!  
 
The past few months have been a busy time in my time.  I would describe this past fall season as an equal combination of tense and intense.  So what do I do when darkness strikes?  I find solitude in that which is comforting to me.  Where do I go?  The great outdoors.  Long walks with my kids, snowboarding at the local mountains, bike rides, the tennis courts and soccer fields, forest adventures, and of course the playground is our home away from home. 
 
As a child, I could be found outside for more hours of the day than inside.  When I wasn’t studying, I was playing.  And naturally, I was playing with my friends outside.  In addition to free play every single afternoon until I was called in for dinner, I participated in a variety of sports, and held numerous jobs, many of which involved a combination of my three favourite things: people, physical activity, and fresh air.  The perfect job was when I could incorporate not just one or two of these items, but all three.  Looking back, the three jobs that I was most happiest at were as a lifeguard at the beaches in Vancouver (Kitsilano and Spanish Banks were my favourite), basketball coach with an inner city league for youth at risk, and newspaper delivery girl when I was 9 years old.
 
Many know that I am a huge advocate for physical activity, fitness, adventure, and being in nature.  I grew up playing every possible sport that I could try and most of them at a competitive level.  My favourites included field hockey, track and field, karate, snowboarding, swimming, cross country running, volleyball, and tennis.  I even tried rugby in the position of outside centre for my sprinting skills.  I competed at the B.C. Summer Games representing the Fraser South region in track and field as a teen, and went on to be invited to the varsity team at the University of British Columbia.  
 
There are numerous benefits to exercise and fresh air, ranging from the therapeutic aspect, physical health, cognitive capabilities, and emotional wellbeing.  I recently came across a study that examined responses of people following being shown pictures of majestic mountains and pictures of beautiful architecture.  Don’t get me wrong, I love architecture, transport me to Europe, Prague in particular, and I am in my happy place.  However, the findings of the research study found that people responded to the questions with higher levels of happiness and inspiration after seeing the images of the great outdoors. 
 
We live in a beautiful world.  The world is our herring.  Nothing is out of our reach.  When we see the beauty and majesty of G-d’s creations, we feel an inner sense of peace and inspiration.  We feel a pull to reach for something bigger and greater, rather than getting sucked into feelings of stress, depression, anxiety, tension.  These are very real feelings.  For some, physical activity and fresh air help alleviate many of the stressors in life, and for some, it is a fabulous supplement to therapy and/or medication.  Give it a try, you have nothing to lose.  And this time of year, just throw on a warm pair of boots, gloves, and hat, and you are ready to explore!  
 
Happy first day of winter,
Ettie Shurack             

P.S. Yes, that's me snowboarding at Cypress Mountain this past Sunday.        

​Erev Yom Kippur is a day that is forever imprinted on my heart.  It as as significant in my life as my date of birth, wedding, and the birthdays of each of my three children.  It is the day I was reborn.

Two hours before the sun was to set and Yom Kippur was to begin, my family experienced a tremendous miracle.  My son had been born two weeks prior in a traumatic and tumultuous manner.  He was given an Apgar score of 1 out of 10, and the doctors later told me that the was actually on the generous side.  His prognosis did not look good.  He was monitored around the clock by a team of highly trained specialists; physicians, nurses, ENTs, pediatricians, anesthesiologists, head of the neonatal intensive care unit, just to name a few.

But his biggest supervisor was G-d.  G-d carefully watched and took care of him every minute, day and night.  G-d did not leave my son's bedside.

Earlier in the day, my son had a critical procedure that required general anesthesia and would give us insight into his prognosis, seizures, and the ramifications of lack of oxygen at birth.  It felt as the brain MRI was our personal Yom Kippur, our day of judgement, the day G-d would decide whether my son would be inscribed in the Book of Life or the alternative, chas v'shalom.  And if our prayers were answered and he was sealed for the Book of Life, what kind of life would it be?  Would he learn to eat, walk, and talk?  Would he reach his milestones?  

Despite pounding headaches, a difficult time concentrating, and a weak physical state following several blood transfusions, I gathered every single ounce of strength I had to pray for my newborn's well-being.

The procedure was scheduled for 8 a.m.  I had been up the entire night, as well as the entire week.  But as hospital schedules go, the time was an estimate, rather than a definite.  The procedure was delayed by a couple of hours, and my husband and I were scrambling of what would be for Yom Kippur.  He and my daughter were staying nearby with a dear friend just blocks from the best specialized children's hospital on the west coast.  I was still admitted in the maternity ward.  We were far from home, family, and our community.  The logistical planning was getting too much for me.  I needed the procedure to take place as scheduled, so I could resume the planning.  

The procedure was delayed due to a few staffing issues.  However, when the big moment came, the nurses and doctors were having a difficult time getting an I.V. line into my tiny son for the general anesthesia.  After many pokes and prods, the head hospital anesthesiologist came to check on my son and was able to get the line in.  And so the procedure began.  I have never prayed that hard in my life.  Ever.  Those few hours felt like a lifetime.  I used each and every second to pour my heart out to G-d.

G-d heard my prayers.  And made a miracle.  I was expecting to stay by my son's bedside through Yom Kippur, while my husband and two year old returned to our community.  I had made sleeping, eating, and childcare arrangements for them.  But as some say, "man plans and G-d laughs."  

My plans were not needed.  Following the procedure, my son was discharged the moment the head radiologist examined the MRI results.  We learned of my son's tremendous turn around and his miraculous recovery.  The doctors told us my son was lucky and that the odds were in his favor.  My husband and I thanked the doctors for their hard work and care.  But it wasn't luck or odds, we knew that it was G-d who was in his favor.  We raced out of the hospital so fast that day, scared the doctors would realize they made a mistake.  But in our hearts, we knew that G-d does not make mistakes.  However, we had a deadline to meet; sunset.  

With just minutes to spare, we made it to the Rabbi and Rebbetzin's home where the four of us would spend the holiday.  My Yom Kippur was filled with prayers of gratitude and thanks.  My son was sealed for the Book of Life and I have never been so grateful.  My life changed that day.  I began focusing on my blessings rather than my hardships.  I began looking at the sunshine rather than the rain.  And so it was the beginning of a new outlook for me and a beautiful year for my family baruch Hashem.                 

Wishing everyone a year of health, happiness, success in all your endeavors, and abundant blessings!

Gmar chasima tova,
Ettie Shurack