Caily's World

06/08/2026

I’m tired.

I’m tired of running to shelters.

I’m tired of sirens.

I’m tired of making plans and then having them changed again.

I’m happy school is cancelled today.

But I’m sad too.

What if we don’t finish the school year again?

What if I don’t get to see my friends before school ends?

What if our trips get cancelled?

What if the airport closes again?

Everybody is stressed.

My parents are stressed.

My friends are stressed.

And I’m stressed too.

I just want a normal week.

I want to go to school.

I want to see my friends.

I want to do my after-school activities.

I want to make plans and know they will happen.

I think everyone is tired of this.

I know I am.

06/07/2026

06/06/2026

When I read someone describe a child with Down syndrome as a “glitch,” I thought of my daughter, Caila.

And I realized how differently society and Judaism answer the question:

What makes a human life valuable?

The modern world increasingly measures worth by productivity, intelligence, independence, achievement, and what someone contributes.

Judaism teaches something radically different.

Every human being is created B’Tzelem Elohim (בצלם אלוקים), in the image of God.

Not on a sliding scale. Not based on IQ. Not based on earning power. Not based on independence. Not based on what they produce.

Human worth is not earned. It is inherent.

Caila did not become valuable because she learned Hebrew, travels independently, takes buses, or continually exceeds expectations. Those things make us proud, but they are not the source of her dignity.

She was valuable the day she was born.

Exactly as she was.

One of the great mistakes of modern culture is confusing productivity with human worth. If productivity determines value, then every one of us is only one illness, one accident, one stroke, or one difficult diagnosis away from becoming less valuable.

That is a terrifying foundation upon which to build a society.

Judaism offers a different foundation.

Every person carries infinite worth because every person carries a spark of the Divine.

No exceptions.

The elderly person with dementia. The child with Down syndrome. The person in a wheelchair. The CEO. The newborn baby. The soldier. The refugee. The person who contributes much. And the person who cannot.

All created B’Tzelem Elohim (בצלם אלוקים).

All equally worthy.

Caila’s life does not need to be justified by what she accomplishes.

Her life has value because she exists.

And that is true for every human being.

No sliding scale.

No exceptions. 💙💛🤟🏻

Jodi's Voice

06/06/2026

When I read someone describe a child with Down syndrome as a “glitch,” I thought of my daughter, Caila.

And I realized how differently society and Judaism answer the question:

What makes a human life valuable?

The modern world increasingly measures worth by productivity, intelligence, independence, achievement, and what someone contributes.

Judaism teaches something radically different.

Every human being is created B’Tzelem Elohim (בצלם אלוקים), in the image of God.

Not on a sliding scale. Not based on IQ. Not based on earning power. Not based on independence. Not based on what they produce.

Human worth is not earned. It is inherent.

Caila did not become valuable because she learned Hebrew, travels independently, takes buses, or continually exceeds expectations. Those things make us proud, but they are not the source of her dignity.

She was valuable the day she was born.

Exactly as she was.

One of the great mistakes of modern culture is confusing productivity with human worth. If productivity determines value, then every one of us is only one illness, one accident, one stroke, or one difficult diagnosis away from becoming less valuable.

That is a terrifying foundation upon which to build a society.

Judaism offers a different foundation.

Every person carries infinite worth because every person carries a spark of the Divine.

No exceptions.

The elderly person with dementia. The child with Down syndrome. The person in a wheelchair. The CEO. The newborn baby. The soldier. The refugee. The person who contributes much. And the person who cannot.

All created B’Tzelem Elohim (בצלם אלוקים).

All equally worthy.

Caila’s life does not need to be justified by what she accomplishes.

Her life has value because she exists.

And that is true for every human being.

No sliding scale.

No exceptions. 💙💛🤟🏻

06/05/2026

From Rafi Feuerstein - his son got married last week.

What struck me most about Elchanan and Efrat’s wedding,” a dear friend who attended told me, “was how obvious it was that they truly loved each other. Not that someone had simply paired them up and placed them under a chuppah.”

I cannot stop thinking about that sentence.

Because the truth is that we do not always see them as we see ourselves. As people who can fall in love, express emotions, long for a relationship, and dream of building a home and family of their own.

In an important and deeply revealing study conducted by Shira Doron and Professor Naomi Hadas, social workers were asked to write down associations they had with sexuality among “typical” people. The words that emerged included initiative, strength, pregnancy, curiosity, desire, pleasure, fertility, and sensuality.

But when they were asked to write associations related to sexuality among people living with mental illness, the words were completely different: physical neglect, lack of knowledge, lack of awareness, victimhood, seductiveness, confusion about sexual identity, perceived asexuality, use of prostitution, and stigma.

These were not the opinions of random people on the street.

These were perceptions found among professionals regarding the very people they worked with and supported.

I know many people think differently.

But reality still speaks for itself.

How many weddings like this do we see?

How many people with disabilities or mental health challenges are truly given the opportunity to love, build a home, and experience a meaningful partnership?

It is time for a shift in consciousness.

They long for love, intimacy, belonging, and companionship no less than any of us.

And yes, some of them, perhaps many of them, may need support throughout their shared lives. But that is support they already receive in many other areas of life.

Which is why I keep asking the same question whenever I encounter skepticism:

Why should they sleep alone at night?

Why?

It is time to open our hearts, change our perspective, and make genuine room for them within our communities and within ourselves.

To contact the Hazon Center for Relationships and Marriage for People with Special Needs:

WhatsApp: +972 50-529-6923
Email: [email protected]

05/27/2026

As the parent of an 18-year-old with disabilities, seeing initiatives like the Morgan Stanley Inclusive & Sustainable Ventures Lab gives me genuine hope for the future.

For many families like ours, one of the biggest fears is not simply the next school year or the next therapy appointment. It is the long-term question: Will our children have meaningful opportunities, independence, dignity, friendships, employment, and a real place in society?

That is why it is so encouraging to see major organizations and investors beginning to recognize the importance of accessibility, assistive technology, disability inclusion, and inclusive innovation. Morgan Stanley’s program is supporting startups and nonprofits working across health, education, economic empowerment, sustainability, and accessibility, helping accelerate solutions that can improve participation and opportunity for people with disabilities. (Morgan Stanley)

For decades, too many families were left feeling that disability services were built around limitation and maintenance rather than possibility and growth. But we are increasingly seeing innovation create tools, workplaces, technologies, and opportunities that simply did not exist a generation ago.

The goal was never pity.

The goal is inclusion, opportunity, independence, belonging, and helping every person contribute their unique strengths to the world.

There is still a long way to go. Many systems remain fragmented, stressful, and difficult to navigate for families. But seeing disability inclusion increasingly viewed not as charity, but as innovation, talent, and human potential, gives parents like me real optimism for the future our children are stepping into.

05/11/2026

Reflecting on Mother’s Day. I personally know how hard it can be seeing all the posts of moms knowing that my journey is different!

For so many mothers raising children with disabilities, the journey is filled with moments the world rarely sees.

The intense pride at what others may call small successes.
The intense pain that can sit quietly beneath the surface.
The endless advocating, worrying, planning, protecting, and loving.

And the understanding that caregiving is not a temporary role. It is for life.

There are days of strength and days of exhaustion. Moments of gratitude and moments of heartbreak. Yet through it all, mothers continue to show up with extraordinary resilience and unconditional love.

Today, and every day, that deserves to be seen.

05/09/2026

There’s something beautiful about watching a child fall in love with the idea of bringing people together.

Caila takes real pride in helping prepare for Shabbat, setting the table, arranging the details, and being part of creating a warm and welcoming space. She genuinely loves the energy of hosting and the connections that grow around our table.

Over the years, she has watched strangers become friends around our Shabbat table, and she understands something many adults still miss, connection does not happen by accident. It comes from opening a home, creating space, and making people feel welcome.

In a world that often feels disconnected, I love that she is growing up with a heart for community, kindness, and hospitality.

The table is never just about the food.
It is about people.
And Caila already understands that beautifully.

04/22/2026

Happy birthday Israel, 3000 years old and 78 years young 🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱🇮🇱💙💙💙💙💙💙💙🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🥲

04/20/2026

We were sitting in the Chabad House in Munnar, high up in the hills of southern India over the holidays. The air was calm, the kind of place where conversations linger and people lean in just a little more.

Caila was her charming self, lighting up the room, drawing people in, making everyone smile without even trying. There is something about her presence that invites connection, something natural and unforced.

Someone turned to me and said, “You know, Jodi, she is so special.”

Before I could respond, Caila jumped in.

“I am special, but I also have special needs.”

Just like that. Clear. Honest. Unapologetic.

In that moment, she taught the room something most people spend a lifetime trying to understand. Being “special” is what people see in the first two seconds. But who you are is also shaped by the parts that are harder, the parts you don’t choose, the parts you carry.

She wasn’t hiding it. She wasn’t defined by it. She simply owned it.

For me, that moment held a quiet tension. Because if I’m honest, this journey has not been simple.

I wanted Caila to be special. Extraordinary. Radiant. Full of light. The kind of person people are naturally drawn to, the kind of person who moves through the world with ease.

The “special needs” part was not what I dreamed of for her.

Of course I knew it was there. Of course I have lived it with her every step of the way. But I never wanted that to be the headline of her story.

And yet, there she was, writing her own.

Not diminishing herself. Not pretending it does not exist. But also not allowing it to define the entirety of who she is.

“I am special, but I also have special needs.”

Not either or. Both.

And still shining.

As Caila has gotten older, the world has sped up. Everything moves faster, socially, emotionally, culturally. And she has not always moved at the same pace.

That gap becomes louder with time. Harder to ignore. Harder to bridge.

It is one thing to be seen. It is another to be included. And it is another thing entirely to belong.

There were moments I wanted so badly for her to just fit in. To keep up. To not feel the difference that I knew could hurt.

But something shifted. In her. And in me.

Because embracing “special needs” did not shrink her world. It expanded it.

She found spaces where people do not just say, “of course you can come.” They say, “we have been waiting for you.”

Not just invited to the party. Invited to dance.

And that is the difference.

Not tolerance. Not accommodation. Belonging.

That is what changes everything.

And maybe that is the lesson I am still learning. The goal was never to erase the “special needs” part of her story. It was to find the places, and the people, who understand that it is part of what makes her whole.

Not in spite of it. With it.

And still shining.