Click here to view other books by Ahuvah Gray

People who bought this book also bought:

One Minute Messages
Rabbi Moshe Goldberger

Divine Whispers
Chana Weisberg

Eye Openers
Rabbi Moshe Goldberger

In the Beginning
Rosie Einhorn and Sherry S. Zimmerman

Jerusalem Jems
Compiled by Rabbi Menachem Nissel

Book Excerpt from Gifts of a Stranger

Gifts of a Stranger A Convert's Round-the-World Travels and Spiritual Journeys By Ahuvah Gray African-American Jewish convert & beloved speaker Ahuvah Gray tells of her spiritual world travels with uplifting stories and insights. Buy Gifts of a Stranger at a special online price at www.targum.com

The Returning of a Lost Object: Shira’s Story

It felt wonderful to be walking again in the halls of Neve, not a beginning student with so much to learn, but actually one with her own lesson to teach. I walked to the library/beis midrash, amazed that the hallways were buzzing just like the days when I was a student there. My heart leaped with joy and enthusiasm as the room began to fill up. Some of the faces looked familiar. I would be speaking in front of my own teachers, including Rabbi Brown, Rebbetzin Rothman, and Rebbetzin Heller!

I was filled with excitement. I had been trained in the art of studying an audience by scanning the faces to ascertain their reactions, and I relaxed immediately when I saw that the girls were fascinated by my story, warm and receptive to my message. The fact that I had studied in that very room for a year brought speaker and audience together in an unusual bond.

Throughout the lecture my attention was constantly drawn to the face of a beautiful girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. Where had I seen her before? I couldn’t place her. Suddenly, as I spoke, her eyes filled with tears. Even while everyone else was laughing, she continued to cry.

During the question-and-answer session, my eyes kept returning to the girl with the lovely, tear-stained face.

The lecture ended, and I was immediately surrounded by girls seeking autographed copies of my book. I looked through the crowd, trying to spot that familiar, tear-stained face.

The hubbub of questions and signings continued. I was nearly out of books.

Suddenly I heard a familiar voice speaking softly with a South African accent. “Excuse me, Ahuvah, do you remember me?”

Before I raised my head, I knew it was a South African girl I had spoken to a year before - finally I could place the teary young woman. When I saw how she was dressed I couldn’t believe it. She could pass the scrutiny of any rebbetzin - a far cry from her appearance a year before.

“What happened to you?”

“Ahuvah, I have to tell you, my life was transformed by your story. After you spoke, I went directly to my room to look up all those verses of Tehillim that you quoted, first in English and then in Hebrew. How much more meaningful they seemed after I heard you describe how your grandmother taught you the twenty-third psalm at four years old! I knew I had to find the God that you talked about.”

I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. By now I was almost in tears, but the other girls were getting impatient. Before she left, I told her that I had been invited to speak in South Africa. She invited me to stay with her parents.

“I would love to meet your parents. I know they were praying for you and they must be wonderful people.”

Once again we exchanged e-mail addresses and she gave me her mobile telephone number. The girl’s eyes were bright now, not with tears but with excitement. I felt the depth of her emotion, but the crowd around us made it impossible for her to say more. She disappeared into the throng, and I went on with the book signing.

While I was signing I remembered that I had forgotten to give her an autographed copy of my book - and that I didn’t even know her name. I was determined, nevertheless, to go and find her when I finished.

A few minutes later, the last girl took a book, thanked me with a smile, and left the room. I had one book left after the book signing. Surely I would find this girl again to give it to her?

At the moment that I thought of her, she suddenly reappeared.

“Thank God, you’re back,” I exclaimed. “Before you disappear again - please tell me your name!”

“Shira Taylor,” she replied.

“Please, please, won’t you accept this copy of my book?” Shira hesitated, wanting to pay, but I insisted that she take it as a gift.

Why did it mean so much to me that I should get to know this girl, that I should know that she would read my story? Why did I insist that she accept my words as a gift?

Perhaps the answer is that somehow this young girl with the crying eyes had at that moment given me a gift of her own.

Many years before, when I was a minister, I was asked each year to fill out a questionnaire stating my goals for the coming year. Each time, I wrote the same words: “My ministry calls me to work with the Jewish people.”

Once I started my travel agency specializing in group movements to Israel, I thought I had fulfilled that dream. But intuitively I knew that somewhere in the distant future I was destined for a more meaningful connection to the Jews, something new that would ignite my soul, and that something hadn’t happened yet.

It hadn’t happened yet, that is, until I met Shira Taylor.

Buy Gifts of a Stranger at a special online price at www.targum.com

Comodo SSL Certificate