It is the smallest things that turn my thoughts toward home - my mom's measuring cups are one of the strongest transporters. I just made a batch of cookies, and as I opened my kitchen cabinet to grab the measuring cups, it was like opening a door to a place in my heart where hundreds of happy memories are stored. These measuring cups were the ones I used since childhood.

I remember how my mother taught me how to pack the brown sugar deep inside, and how to shake the flour down and carefully scrape a knife across the surface to take the hump off in order to get a perfect measurement. I remember the frustration of learning to wash them properly and not leave remnants of sticky, wet flour in the interior. The sweetest memory, of course, was sharing the first tray of hot cookies with a glass of cold milk.

Cookies were a part of every Christmas, of snow days, and movie nights. They brought joy to holidays and helped dry tears on days when I was sad. Cookies meant time together!

As I was packing my things to move with my husband to Israel, my mom came into my room and handed me a set of measuring cups, not just any measuring cups, THE measuring cups. I looked at them in her hand, and in an instant a flood of memories came into my mind. I looked up into her misty eyes, and I could see the days gone by were fresh in her mind as well. She held them out and said, "Here, I want you to take these with you."

We couldn't speak words, our emotions were too deep. But the cups communicated what was unspoken with a wave of joy and sadness that we could not express. Tears filled my eyes as I reached out for them, knowing that I was taking more than measuring cups, but a precious heirloom worth nothing to anyone else, but holding a value beyond measure to us. We embraced and held one another close.

The hardest part of living in Israel is being so far from the family that I love. I came because I believe God called me to be here. It was going to be just two years volunteering at the International Christian Embassy in Jerusalem, but God had other plans. He introduced me to my husband during my time in Jerusalem, an Israeli who loves God as dearly as I do and wants to serve Him too.

Leaving for Israel wasn't easy for me or for my family. In fact it was the most difficult thing I think I have ever had to do. But following God isn't about taking the easy path. It was my mother who taught me that as well. She raised me, and my sisters, to follow hard after God no matter what the cost. I am so grateful for a mother who imparted to me faith, courage and devotion. I love her so deeply and know that I am so deeply loved by her.

A blog about life in Israel would be incomplete without sharing some of the feelings I experience - the difficulty in the extreme distance from all that I knew and loved. I am far from home, but my mother's love is near and even tangible. I feel it in so many ways and today I can taste it in my batch of freshly baked cookies.

A picture from when my mom came to visit Israel! Hoping the next visit will be soon!

During the holiday of Lag BaOmer in Israel every open space is filled with enormous bonfires, boisterous kids, sizzling food, and energetic conversation and laughter. My apartment, or flat as they call it here, is right on the border of civilization and acres of sprawling farmland. I enjoy having the option of going out of my parking lot and choosing either coffee to the left or fresh orange pickings from the orchards to the right.

Last night it seemed that all of Ra'anana decided to camp to the right of my flat. I never cease to be amazed at how holidays seems to pop-up around every corner of the calendar here in Israel. I still don't really understand Lag BaOmer, but it is rather impressive to see massive camp fires throughout densely populated areas. When I say "massive camp-fires" I don't think you can really appreciate it without seeing it. (photos below)

For a few weeks before the holiday school kids are strolling around local grocery store carts on a scavenger hunt for anything that will burn. They dumpster dive for old picture frames and doors, limbs cut from trees to clear roadways and large card board boxes cast off from newly purchased appliances.

After the sun sets on Lag Ba'Omer kids, teachers and parents fill open lots around the city and kindle the fires. I read that during the Middle Ages, Lag BaOmer was called the "scholar's festival" and it became customary to rejoice on this day through various kinds of merrymaking.

In the Talmud it says that 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiva died from a plague sent by God to punish them for not showing proper respect to one another. Lag BaOmer was supposedly the day the plague ended.

I think for most Israeli's it is simply a chance to celebrate, and in this highly pressurized country it seems everyone is always ready for another reason to eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow is always uncertain.

Israeli's live with a lot of gusto! It seems almost everything is done to the extreme. I laugh with my husband, Yuval, about the crowded stores when Shabbat comes to a close. On Saturday night, I think every Israeli rejoices in the end of the 24-hour Sabbath rest. I think the fourth commandment is kept through gritted teeth for many Israelis.

Yuval joked that every Saturday night, after the end of Shabbat, is like Black Friday in the U.S. Black Friday being the day after Thanksgiving and the biggest shopping day in the entire year. It's true, there are literally huge lines outside of grocery stores, malls, cinemas and restaurants. How do I know? Well, we usually find ourselves right in the middle of it.

I do things here in Israel that I would never do in the U.S. It just somehow comes naturally to stand in crowded lines, talk to strangers and rush out get a glimpse at any new attraction no matter how many people have the same inclination. Israel's live out the adage well: "Don't put off till tomorrow what you can do today."

Back to BaOmer - besides the rowdy teens singing and yelling outside our window till around 3am, I found it a really neat expression of life, community and joy. I still don't know how all the cities in Israel don't go up in flames, but the holiday is truly bigger than life and I can only imagine the magic of the evening in the eyes of children. I love the family-oriented culture here in Israel and the effervescent holiday spirit that seems to permeate every month of the Jewish calendar.