(Marriage and Religion.)
When my mother walked my five-year-old self into the synagogue and asked if I wanted to stay for the next seven years, the mass of nameless kindergarten-age faces was enough to send any pre-elementary-school-age child in the direction of Sunday morning cartoons and barbie-doll orientated play dates. And in spite of my ill-informed decision to choose the familiar over the strange, the fate of my own unborn children has yet to be determined. Chances are, it will consist of Christmas trees, Hanukah prayers and a whole lot of Thanks(giving) for having the freedom to decide. Enjoy!
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