Throw caution to the wind & yarn on the floor

How creating is salvation in hard times. But also, a comfort cookie recipe and highlights from my fabulous talk with singer/songwriter Franciska.

There’s a gorgeous quote from the writer Garrison Keillor: Thank you, God, for this good life and forgive us if we do not love it enough.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot.

Some moments are harder than others when it comes to muddling about as a human after an early morning peek at the news or the rising count of days the hostages have been held in Gaza. Today is 108. An unthinkable number.

So I’ve thrown a bit of caution to the wind. :) Instead of keeping my yarn stash neatly corralled out of sight in a basket, I dumped the contents onto the den floor. My husband was away last week so there was no risk of him tripping on it. Now that he’s back home, he just steers clear, glad to know I’m happy.

I stared at the chaotic assemblage each time I passed through the room. At first, I wasn’t sure I wanted to do anything with it. It looked so pretty lying there like that, the loose strands winding around one another, the colors bold against the off-white carpet.

Yarn sings a siren call to anyone who crochets (or knits). Eventually, I came up with a plan to whip my stash into a large, haphazard afghan — a style they (whoever they is) call shabby chic. Anyway, the project is a colorful challenge of mismatched yarn and squares. Six large squares and three medium ones into the project, I’m already having myself a good time.

But I have to say, it also feels great just to create something useful out of that mess. There are times when I put down my crochet hook and close my eyes so I can imagine myself stitching patches to fix where the world is frayed, organizing the chaos of it, giving it a semblance of self-control. And if not the world, at least the thoughts in my head.

It may not look like it, but it’s about healing.

It’s about finding joy, a personal effort I’m working hard on.

It’s about creative potential and beauty, traditional or otherwise.

It’s about learning to love life more.

When I’m done with the afghan, I’ll get to wrap myself up in the warmth of all of that. And I promise to share it with you.

#thecreativepause with Franciska

Singer/songwriter Franciska Goldschmidt Kosman

A few weeks ago, Orthodox Jewish singer, songwriter, and podcaster Franciska Goldschmidt Kosman reached out. We’ve chatted before about pregnancy loss on her podcast. This time, she joined me here, and we had a great conversation about everything from the star power of musical Jewish women to her own post-October 7 approach to songwriting — to create meaningful, purposeful Jewish music that can soothe the pain in our souls. You can her on Spotify , Instagram, and The Franciska Show.

First, tell me a little about your musical roots.

Growing up in post-Communist Russia, I was part of the girls’ choir at our state Jewish ethnic school. Initially, it gave us something to do on Sundays, but it became a life-changing aspect of our Jewish identity. We began with local holiday performances and advanced to nationwide competitions, eventually giving sold out concerts in Israel and the US. I’m classically trained in piano and acoustic guitar, so my mom encouraged me to write the music for much of our repertoire.

And you’ve been performing ever since.

Yes! My mother paints. My grandmother, too – she even made the cover art for my early albums. Both modeled how creativity can be a powerful, spiritual expression of Judaism. I sometimes joke that I sing now because I did not get enough solos then. But I write music because the creation of each new song is an out-of-body experience, like the feeling I have just after giving birth. In those moments, I am completely dependent on G-d. It’s an energizing, addictive high.

Your musical journey has taken on new shape and meaning over the years.

A lot of this has been new, deeply personal territory for me. For example, I released songs for each of my daughters, two in Hebrew based on pesukim from Tanach. A third, in English, is our matriarch Rivka’s first-person, musical account of her own story, which hasn’t been done before to my knowledge. That a frum female singer is performing Jewish music about Jewish female role models for a frum female audience is both powerful and incredibly important.

How do you work within the framework of Kol Isha, the halacha prohibiting men from listening to women singing?

Since it’s a man’s obligation, I respect that by labeling my recorded music Kol Isha. My live performances are exclusively for women. When the halacha feels challenging, I focus on things that are authentic to my purpose, like using my voice for activism and breaking stigma within the Orthodox Jewish community.

On my podcast, for example, we have conversations with men and women about domestic abuse, addiction, financial issues, the shidduch crisis, get refusal, and everything in between. These episodes give other frum people struggling with similar challenges the language and opportunity to talk about their own experiences.

What inspired you to launch your podcast The Franciska Show?

Over the past decade or so, Orthodox Jewish women have proven their star power within the Jewish music industry. We have options that aren’t Taylor Swift or the male wedding singer model. Talents like Chaya Neuhaus, Miriam Israeli, Rachel Factor, and Chanale, just to name a few, perform their own hit songs. Some also write music for other successful female and male performers. I launched the podcast to showcase their work and give them the agency to command fair compensation.

October 7 has changed all of us in one way or another. How has it changed you as a songwriter?

Days after the war began, I wrote the song We Are One. It was the only two hours after October 7 that I wasn’t shaking or crying. It helped me focus. I saw music as a powerful tool to get me through this terrible time and to welcome others to join me. It was a kind of permission to be productive and bring light into the world.

And as a mother?

Before I had children, I did not have what I’d call a musical career. Becoming a mother changed that, as if I had only been practicing until then, learning the tools I needed. In a similar way, we all said, B’kol dor va’dor, knowing we were part of this chain of Jewish history. But it was as if our Judaism was all dress rehearsal until October 7. Now we’re the real deal – activated, lit up, and connected spiritually to G-d and in a tangible way to one another.

I grew up feeling very proud of my parents, seeing how people were inspired by them, the rabbi and rebbetzin in Moscow. Ultimately, everything I do now is for my daughters. I’m showing them that women can change the world, that they should be proud of their origins. I know that my only job as a parent – the only thing that matters – is Jewish continuity.

Amen, Franciska. Amen.

Check out Franciska’s music on this beautiful playlist.

And while you’re listening, bake these cookies.

The smell and taste of these cookies is mood-lifting, the perfect antidote to everything.

Churro Bars

Ingredients

1 cup unsalted margarine 2 cups light brown sugar 2 large eggs 2 teaspoons vanilla 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1/4 cup white sugar 1 Tablespoon cinnamon Preheat oven to 350F. Line a 9 x 13 baking pan with foil and spritz with non-stick spray. Melt margarine over medium-low heat in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and keep stirring the margarine (be patient) until it turns amber. Remove from heat and let cool 15-20 minutes. (On a cold day, I speed this up by putting the pan outside with a lid.) Combine cooled margarine and brown sugar in a stand mixer. Then add eggs, vanilla, and baking powder. Combine before adding flour. Blend well. In another bowl, combine white sugar and cinnamon. Sprinkle half of to cover the bottom of the pan. Press the dough evenly into the pan and cover it with the remaining cinnamon-sugar. Bake 25 minutes or until the edges are golden. Cool and cut. Freezes well. Just set waxed paper between layers so the bars don’t stick to one another.

A few more distractions

I mean, we all need a break at some point.

• What’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever left behind at a hotel? I’ve lost two sets of travel candlesticks that way. These forgotten items are more unusual.

• Did Louisa May Alcott write poems and stories under a pseudonym?

• Speaking of yarn, I adore this story about a stranger who did some speed crocheting to entertain a baby on a plane.

• I’ve shared typewriter musical performances before. Here’s a new favorite: a typewriter as part of an orchestra.

• And lastly, I stumbled upon this funny Jewish rap song that includes some of the best know Yiddish words and phrases. Just a warning. There are a few potty references.

And a little request from me

If you like what you read here, or you just like me, do a gal a favor and subscribe, share with friends, and help me grow the Days of Rest community.

These are not easy times. I hope we are all managing as best we can.

Love,

Merri

#bringthemhome