This Friday, I have been called on to give the aliyot. Not just any Friday; this is Rosh Hashanah, as in the High Holidays. In my family, we called it “the Rosh.”

I thought aliyot meant prayer. It doesn’t. 😊

I have been told that it is a big honor. By pretty much everyone.

It is also the reason I have been sweating over phonetic cue cards for the last four weeks straight.

Here is the funny thing about writing and publishing a book titled JewGirl: people assume you’re some kind of resident expert on Jewish culture, faith ... maybe even the language.

In reality? I don’t know Hebrew.

For the past month, I’ve been furiously bumbling over foreign words, all because I wrote a book about being Jewish, and now—not only do I have to be Jewish in public, but I have to stand up in temple!

Honestly, it makes me feel like a bit of a fraud.

I didn’t write JewGirl because I had Judaism figured out. I wrote it because I didn’t. I wrote about identity and belonging and trying to figure out where I fit.

I’m still figuring it out.

So, on Friday, I’ll get up there with my phonetic cue cards and give the aliyot.

It’s called growth. Stepping into a bigger idea of myself. Even though it feels a lot like panic right now.

Wish me luck.