“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.” ― Douglas Adams
I’ve always had a special connection with my daughter, Teilah.
She was named for someone I never knew.
Someone whose name needed to be re-claimed.
In my younger (my much younger) days, I lived on the outskirts of Jerusalem, working long hours collecting eggs from unhappy chickens on a kibbutz. Every once in a while, I would escape my communal work with the fowl, sluff off my dusty blue kibbutz uniform, and head into the Big City of Jerusalem for the one piece of home that I was craving.
A slice of pizza.
It was a rare delight. And I always went to one place. The Sbarro on the corner of King George Street and Jaffa Road.
Years later, in a conversation with Laura (who would later become my wife, and then later, my ex-wife and beloved co-parent), she told me that she - a couple of years after me - frequented the exact same Sbarro when she needed a slice of home.
It was as if it was our meeting place, separated by just a couple of years of time.
When Laura was pregnant, we had an especially hard time choosing a name for our incoming daughter. Then, perusing the Jerusalem Post Online one day, I read a horrific story.
On August 9, 2001, a suicide bomber with an explosive belt packed with nails, calmly walked into that Sbarro on the corner of King George and Jaffa … and detonated his bomb. 15 innocent civilians were killed. Among them was a beautiful 18-year-old waitress, Tehila Maoz.
So much life ahead. Cut short.
As you can guess, Teilah was named after Tehila.
A girl we didn’t know.
But who now had a vivacious, witty, and extraordinary young girl in the United States to carry on her name.
My connection to Teilah felt strong and powerful for many years.
Being a divorced Dad, I learned to French braid hair, I learned the names and pedigrees of every American Girl doll, and I spent hours in Sephora as she perused the moisturizer aisles. We were close beyond words.
When Teilah inescapably morphed from a cute and precocious little girl into a full-blown teenager, I felt like I was losing those connection points.
Gone were the days of holding hands as we walked through the mall, her running up to me at school with a big hug, and reading books in bed before it was time for her to drift off to sleep.
It felt sad. Even more, it felt like I was losing her.
Then, out of nowhere seemingly, a new tradition emerged. One summer night before her junior year, Teilah asked me to go for a drive. “Where to?” “I don’t know, let’s just get lost.”
That night - and many nights after - following dinner and dishes, we would set off, always heading east for no good reason at all. She would coordinate the music … and it was my job to drive and get us lost.
I would switch off my phone, take several random and unplanned turns, and keep driving.
It seemed that getting lost would somehow always lead us to a part of town we didn’t know or a vista we hadn’t seen. We saw farms, strip centers, power stations, rivers, and drive-ins.
Long stretches of unknown road gave us time to talk.
Some of our most consequential conversations we held during stretches of unknown road.
More often than not, we would come across a familiar sign or street, which would lead us back home. She’d head up to her room to FaceTime friends or to take a bath, and I would get going on unfinished work from the day, the glow of getting lost still on my shoulders.
I still remain in awe of my daughter. She inspires me. And her name reminds me that we can help fulfill the legacies of those who went before us. That we can honor them through the lives we lead.
She and I always had a connection.
And when it started to fade, getting lost helped us find each other again.
This Week’s Challenge: Embrace The Unknown
This week, can you find one meaningful way to “get lost?”
You can start small: find one way that you can ditch routine, and embrace a sense of spontaneity in your life. Find one place where you can be less certain.
What is one small way where you can open yourself up to uncertainty?
Are you ready for it?
Celebrate the launch of Scare Your Soul: 7 Powerful Principles to Harness Fear and Lead Your Most Courageous Life by happiness entrepreneur Scott Simon. Published by Hachette, the book is a powerful invitation to live our bravest and best selves.
Sharing your Success
How did you feel after this week’s challenge? What unknown did you embrace? Let us know on Facebook and Instagram! Use hashtags #scareyoursoul and #mycouragemoment.
