New Things (or: '"This is still just the culture shock!"')

The most valuable piece of advice I was ever given was to try new things. I know this sounds unremarlable, but it's helped me expand my horizons and grow in so many ways. It's difficult to pin down exactly when I was first given this advice; it's been part of my life for so many years. Since I don't know when it first surfaced, I'll tell about when it affected my life the most.

It was April 2006 and I was standing next to my mom, scanning the computer screen. She had been trying for days to get me to consider going to a summer program for teen girls run by Bais Chana, a Jewish women's organization. I had never been to camp before and the longest I'd been away from my family was a few days, so I had initially been skeptical. Now that I was actually reading about the program it looked pretty good, but that didn't stop me from being hesitant.

"I don't know," I said. "It's three weeks, and I'd have to fly to Colorado myself."

"Yes, but look at this! It's perfect for you! Everyone on this site says the rabbi is amazing, and look at all the fun stuff you'll get to do! Plus maybe you could get some friends to go, they'd probable enjoy this, too."

"But it's three weeks!"

"So? You'll be fine! You'll be able to call. Anyway, you're going to college in a few years, you're going to have to get used to being away from home. Also you'll be able to get away from the boys for a while, it'll be good to have a break."

"But-"

"Oh, come on!" My mom was grinning. "You'll love it. I think you should go. I think it'll help you come out of your shell. It'll be a great experience for you. At least think about it."

I told her I would, and later I took another look at the camp website. It did look good, and the videos of girls who had been there in previous years glowed with praise for the rabbi, the classes he taught, and the activities and trips, but most of all for the friends they had made. I was getting more and more interested, and a few days later I signed up.

July 3rd. The day had arrived. I stood in the New York airport, gripping my bags apprehensively. This was it. I heard my flight announced, so I said goodbye to my family and walked through the tunnel and onto the plane. I was still nervous, but I was also excited. Who knew what the next few weeks would bring?

Three and a half weeks later, I strode off the plane back onto New York ground. Where not long ago I would have hovered around hesitantly, now I marched purposefully along the trail indicated by the signs toward baggage claim. A few hours ago I had bidden a sad fairwell to my new friends, and we all promised to keep in touch (indeed, my email account has never been so busy as it was in the days after I got home, and we still keep in contact). I was different. I knew -- I was more confident for one, and more likely to reach out to people instead of waiting for others to make contact. I had grown. By taking that risk and trying a new experience, I had become a stronger person. I am very, very glad I did it.