Early in my 20s, I became fascinated by a book integrating design thinking with career planning. Authored by the brilliant duo behind the design school at Stanford, Designing Your Life became a blueprint for many of my professional vision boards. Becoming a Jewish communal professional was not on that vision board.

When the macro-environment evolved last spring after the US election, converting to a full-time employee again was looking like it would take a miracle. My chapter at Deloitte was closing and through my goodbyes, it became overwhelmingly clear what I would miss most about my job: supporting our Jewish employees through advocacy and programming through our Jewish ERG. 

And then, we went to Haifa. 

Throughout our first conference, I continued to be in awe of the contributions of my fellow members as they humbly shared their accolades. From clergy to policy experts, funders to founders, I was energized by the diversity in discussions swirling around me. Yet, of all the fascinating discussions, the one person I kept wanting to learn from was the person who lived 25 miles south of me. Dan (Goldwin) and I spoke at great length about the various scenarios unfolding in Illinois, the Federation’s posture in the community, and sticky topics no one outside of Chicago would frankly be interested in. 

When I returned home, I declared what had been percolating since I started combating anti-Israel bias in the corporate world – it was time to focus on my Jewish community. Navigating these decisions seven months pregnant and potty training our toddler is questionable timing at best, yet something inside of me knew the timing was exactly right. I gave myself a deadline of January 1st – if I could not secure a role that was both impactful and met a few of the criteria set in that design thinking vision board, I would reevaluate. I started at American Jewish Committee (AJC) in mid-December. 

Recently, I had the privilege to be in the presence of the brilliant Tal Becker at my shul. In his interview, he illuminated a concept he speaks about at length – the idea of being a “builder” in the context of Israel and peoplehood. His recommendation is that being aspirational, and deeply human at the same time, enables us to shape history rather than experience it. As a builder, we not only needed to be proactive but also intentional. It is an average experience for someone to leave any lecture with Tal Becker and have more questions, that is after all the Hartmann Institute’s shtick (so Jewish!). 

This week, around the world, we will celebrate in my favorite holiday – Pesach. After we recite Vehi She’amda in the many melodies our ancestors have carried through joy and hardship, we begin the story of how we landed in Egypt in the first place. In the verse, it says “וַיְהִי שָׁם לְגוֹי” – and he (Jacob) became a nation there (Egypt). To me, this is a reminder that transcends the story we retell each year at the Seder. It is not only about how we were formed as a people in a place of constraint, but also about what we chose to build within it. Even in uncertainty, even in environments we did not choose, we became something greater—together.

That is the quiet power of being a builder. It is not reserved for the moments when timing is perfect or paths are obvious. It shows up when life feels crowded, inconvenient, or unfinished. It is the decision to step in anyway and invest, shape, and take responsibility for what comes next.

I didn’t plan for this chapter. It wasn’t on my vision board, and it certainly didn’t arrive at a “convenient” moment. But like so many parts of our collective story, it unfolded exactly where it needed to.

Chag sameach!