My work life and home life have mirrored each other of late.

Just as much of the professional staff of Temple Micah was moving from one temporary office space to another, I moved from one home to another. As we worked surrounded by boxes, trying to find peace among chaos, I did the same at home, unpacking slowly, trying to create small pockets of calm in a sea of crumpled newspaper.

Five months later, settled into my digs at Micah and at home, the process started anew. I put down the building-mandated rugs a few days before the carpeting was installed in my new office. I moved in and sat surrounded by boxes until bookshelves were built. During this time, a number of boxes and a few pieces of random furniture arrived from my childhood home in Chicago. A few days later at Micah, I was greeted by a desk standing on end in the middle of my office.

I am one of the few people I know who enjoys packing and unpacking boxes--it's a spatial relations thing--but I don't enjoy moving. I don't like disorder or the feeling of displacement. But I love setting up a home. I love starting out with white walls and ending up with something that clearly reflects who I am. I love being part of any transformation. I love that three new pillows can change an entire room.

These last months at Temple Micah have been challenging-- we were in somewhat close quarters, often unsure where things were, forced to make our way through a maze of ladders and myriad other construction equipment. But it has also been quite rewarding--our members took small inconveniences in stride, the building has been abuzz with excitement as people see the familiar in a new light and, as an added bonus, there is more closet space.

We refer to the different areas that make up our temple in a number of ways: beit tefilah, beit midrash and beit knesset, a house of worship, a house of study and a house of community. Each of these houses is beautiful, but each is a disparate part, a blank canvas. They are waiting for you to turn them into our communal home.

Our youngest students have already begun to use the new classrooms--even without furniture. Many of you were present as Micah Cooks used the kitchen for the first time during the building dedication and celebration of Rabbi Zemel. That day marked another, less auspicious first: the first time a brownie was ground into the carpeting; something that, despite our care, is bound to happen again.

As we begin to settle in, I look forward to seeing many of you taking advantage of all that the new space has to offer. Perhaps in the coming weeks, some of our adult learners will also use our new classrooms for study. Maybe I'll see you lounging in one of the new libraries after services or while waiting to pick up your children from religious school. And, of course, we would all love for you to visit us in our new offices. Though we want you to feel at home, we would be pleased if you made a special effort NOT to grind baked goods into the carpeting.

There is a Jewish idea that though "Passover is celebrated inside the house, the chanting is carried outside." This suggests that the joy in the home is so great, that the spirit permeates through everything its inhabitants do, both within and outside of its walls.

May our new home bring all of us--and our neighbors--this kind of joy.