A week ago, Thursday, September 3, as severe weather moved through our area and tornado warnings were broadcast urging everyone to take cover, our JSL community came together in a way I will never forget.

Members of our team and volunteers quickly and compassionately helped residents move to safe areas. Most were unaware of the dire circumstances unfolding around them. In the Fleischman Residence Chapel, those in wheelchairs, using walkers, and on their own gathered together for safety. And somehow, during it all, we sang, “Going to the Chapel.”

Some of us ran up the steps to Memory Care and quickly but carefully helped wheel residents into the hallway, seating them away from windows and the possibility of injury from broken glass.

And what happened next was something truly special. For good….

Rather than allowing fear to fill the hallway as the winds and rains pummeled the building, JSL staff, a family member and I filled the moments with Motown music, laughter, trivia, and dancing. We shared stories, played games, kept everyone hydrated, and talked about our families and friends. We remembered our parents and reminisced about our lives.

One of our beloved residents, Paula, was enjoying a visit from her daughter, Hilary. We discovered that we grew up in the same neighborhood and had both experienced the Tornado of 1976 in West Bloomfield…fifty years ago.

We did everything we could to keep our third-floor residents engaged, comfortable, and connected until the danger had passed. Afterwards, we escorted everyone into the dining room, where staff prepared and served a delicious meal and continued creating the calm and comforting JSL environment our residents know so well.

What followed were hugs and kisses and smiles of gratitude and appreciation. Because in those unsettling moments, something became very clear to me: safety is more than protocol. It is also the human connection we create while keeping one another out of harm’s way.

There was something deeply spiritual about that afternoon. While the storm raged outside, there was music and laughter inside. While there was uncertainty in the air, there was kindness, courage, and care in our sanctuary from the storm. We created a little light in the darkness, not just through the physical shelter we provided, but through our presence for one another.

Later, as the storm subsided, I noticed a rainbow in the east. I couldn’t help but feel that it was more than a coincidence.

As we approach this Shabbat, the last of the year and the one before Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, I find myself thinking about that rainbow differently. The head of the year, Rosh Hashanah invites us to pause, reflect on the year that has passed, and look toward the year ahead with hope and renewal. It reminds us of our responsibilities to one another and of the power we can take to make the world a little kinder, a little more compassionate, and a little more whole.

This year, Rosh Hashanah and Shabbat arrive on September 11, a date that, twenty-five years later, still carries profound meaning for so many of us. It’s a day when we remember so many lives lost and the extraordinary courage, compassion, generosity, and human connection that emerged in the face of unimaginable darkness.

The rainbow felt like a beautiful reminder of our connection with G-d and with our people, a symbol of promise, hope, and the enduring bond that connects us to one another. And this is what Rosh Hashanah asks of us as well: to remember that we are never truly alone.

We carry one another through the storms. We shelter one another. We bring music and laughter into moments of darkness and worry. We offer a hand, a hug, a smile, a kind word. And sometimes, simply by being present, we become someone else’s light.

Those moments reminded me of what makes our JSL community so extraordinary. Our staff is kind, and our residents and their families are appreciative and loving. In a moment of uncertainty, we became family. Our safety protocols were enacted, but it was our shared humanity that made the difference.

I will never forget those moments, not because of the storm, but because of the love, compassion, courage, and connection that brought us all together.

As we enter Shabbat and welcome Rosh Hashanah, I am reminded that sometimes the most sacred moments are not found in a sanctuary, but in the simple act of supporting and caring for one another.

May this New Year bring renewal, peace, good health, sweetness, and hope. And may we always be a source of comfort, strength, and light for one another, especially in those times when we need each other most.

As we enter the Days of Awe, may we be written and sealed for a year of peace, health, sweetness, and blessing.

Shabbat Shalom

Shanah Tovah U’Metukah