Once I realized that people-pleasing was exhausting, since there is always at least one person who doesn’t like something I do, I stopped feeling like I needed to prove anything. The more that I value myself and my time, the less I care about other people’s opinion of me. I stopped comparing myself to others. I can recognize who I am and what I offer the world, and I can celebrate how far I’ve come.

Rabbi Wolbe often emphasized that true growth requires self-awareness and a willingness to embrace the lessons embedded in life's experiences. For example, I. love connecting people to their soul and helping them find spiritual sustenance. I often find myself listening attentively to a friend in crisis, validating their feeling of overwhelm or frustration, and then slowly asking questions that give them a glimmer of hope or a different perspective. At first, I am simply a container, holding a safe space for them to express their feelings. Gradually, I probe into possible alternative perspectives. I might share a personal story or something I’ve read about a similar situation that turned into a positive opportunity, allowing them to see that I am walking right next to them in understanding. I have the ability to combine empathy, attentive listening, and faith that everything that happens can be for the ultimate good, even if we don’t understand it in the moment. This trust is not passive, but calls for effort and moral responsibility, menuchat hanefesh (equanimity or inner calm)—the ability to remain steady and at peace, trusting that whatever unfolds is part of a greater divine order.

I used to think that this set of skills is something everyone possesses, but gradually I realized that attentive and compassionate listening coupled with the wisdom to carefully guide others through their challenges is somewhat rare. I could certainly keep this “skill” under my hat and not offer it to others out of fear of embarrassment or overstepping. But I’ve come to see this set of traits as a unique strength. I end up feeling a sense of joy that I have somehow helped someone shift from despair to excitement. And as a result of our time together, my friend and I grow closer, which brings me fulfillment. Each time I help someone by simply being myself, my Imposter Syndrome disappears a little more. I feel that I am a responsible steward of my God-given strengths when I use them to help others.

The Omer period is traditionally seen as a time of tikkun hamidot (refining one's character). The practice of counting each day symbolizes incremental self-improvement, echoing hitlamdut — the idea that every moment is an opportunity for learning and transformation. The Omer spans the journey from leaving Egypt, a place of spiritual stagnation, to receiving the Torah at Sinai, the ultimate moment of learning and revelation. Hitlamdut mirrors this movement, requiring humility and an openness to being shaped by the process.

In my rabbinical school, we have a process called “Clergy Formation” that is an annual touchstone one-on-one with faculty to process the (so far immense) changes I’m experiencing. Each year, I am truly stunned at the growth I see in myself. During my first year, I was elated to be on this path, but also regretful that I hadn’t made this decision 30 years ago. It’s taken me awhile, but I’ve come to realize that every life experience between then and now has enriched me and made me into who I am. I needed to be broken open a little to really know myself and I bring all of that to this endeavor. After my second year, I was amazed at how much more confident I felt.

I recently had my third of these sessions (time really does fly when you’re pursuing your passion) and realized that my pastoral skills have come a long way as a result of coursework, training, and stepping into various positions of leadership. I am inspired that, due to the richness of Judaism, the more I learn, the more I discover how limitlessness the study of our tradition is. I still couldn’t tell you much beyond my immediate future, but I feel that I am right where I’m meant to be.

My developing strength as a passionate learner together with my ongoing Mussar practice focused on hitlamdut has given me the gift of self-awareness and self-

knowledge. The more I understand myself, the better I can understand others and the world around me. Rav Wolbe wrote about this awareness and deeper sense of purpose: