This was the moment I had been preparing for for the last five years of my life. I knew I could do it, but I still had my doubts. “I’m nervous,” I told my mom as she curled the final piece of my hair. “You’re ready.” she said with a smile on her face. My dress was laying on the bed waiting to be put on. The blue on the dress reminded me of how hard I had worked to get to do this day, because blue was the color of the Jewish star. Today marked the day when I officially became a Jewish adult. All my friends and family would be at my service watching me. I had been to many services for relatives who had been through what I am going through right now, and I could not remember a single instance where anybody had messed up. The pressure was high for me to do amazing, just like they did. I couldn’t sleep the night before, with all these thoughts going through my head. Am I ready for this? This is a question that I did not know if I would be able to answer. What if I mess up in front of everyone? I kept thinking. What if I don’t make everyone proud? This thought went through my head over and over again.

My mom called to me and yelled, “Caroline! We are going to be late, let’s go!” I slowly walked down the stairs with my hair freshly curled, as each strand bounced behind me. I carefully got into the car so that I would not wrinkle my freshly pressed dress. As we drove away from our house I thought to myself, this will be the last time I will be here before I am officially a bat-mitzvah.

We arrived at the synagogue. It was a beautiful day. The sky was dark blue, with small clouds that looked like cotton candy. The sun was shining in my face, and I had to squint to see. For it being the middle of November, it was actually unseasonably warm. I stepped out of my mom’s car and examined all around the parking lot. There were cars everywhere I looked. I kept telling myself that everything would be OK, and I should walk in with a bright smile on my face. My heart started to beat faster as I walked up to the large doors that I had walked in every day for years. Today, the synagogue felt different. Bigger? More important maybe. The synagogue is so beautiful, with tall ceilings and dark blue walls. There were people everywhere: my friends, cousins, and family. They were all here for me. This is really happening, I thought to myself. Everywhere I looked, people were advancing from left to right to greet me. “You have nothing to worry about Caroline, you will do great,” they kept telling me. I thanked each person for coming to my service as they walked through the doors. They congratulated me and smiled. I tried to keep that smile the whole time to mask how nervous I really was.

My close friends were standing on each side of the door handing out programs and wishing me good luck. The programs were white with my name in cursive plastered on the front. All the seats in the temple were filled with people. I looked down to the front row and saw my two sisters, mom, and dad. I couldn’t have done this without them. My mom and dad had driven me to my lessons on Sundays and Tuesdays for years. My older sister, who has been through this before, always encouraged me to do my best and told me how important becoming a bat-mitzvah was. Finally, my younger sister sat through years worth of Hebrew tutors, Sunday school classes, and three-hour services. For a nine-year-old, she does a good job of cooperating. My dad blew me a kiss, and I knew it was time to go.

I saw my Rabbi wave at me to walk up to the bema. He was wearing a black suit with a yarmulke that was blue and matched my dress. Rabbi Dennis has been with me for almost my whole life, and he hasn’t changed one bit. He had helped my sister through her becoming a bat-mitzvah and had been an important role model in my success. I could not have done this without him either, I thought to myself. He would make me laugh so hard in our meetings and make them less boring and more exciting. He’s kind, and has believed in me my whole life. My uncle opened up the ceremony, and then he called my name for the first time to step up to the bema to sing the first prayer.

I glanced over the audience one last time. Everyone was staring at me as I got ready to start. I can do this, I kept whispering under my breath. I took a deep breath and began to chant. Words flowed slowly and surely out of my mouth. I can’t mess up now. I thought. About an hour through the service, it was time for the hardest part of a bat mitzvah. The haftorah. During the haftorah, you typically chant for five minutes without stopping. It is a chant related to your specific bat mitzvah date. It’s also important to not mess up, especially on this chant, because it is one of the most meaningful chants you learn. Anyone who has had a bat mitzvah knows how challenging it can be. However, I knew I could do it. When I started chanting, I looked up for a second and saw my Hebrew tutor, who helped me for most of my Hebrew career, walk into the temple. It meant so much to me to see him there, and it gave me a significant boost of confidence to finish my chant strong.

The last part of the ceremony was the speeches. My mom, dad, and I all gave one. I thanked everyone who was there for me throughout this journey I had been through. “Thank you mom, dad, and my sisters for being here for me and never letting me quit, even when it got really hard. I am so thankful for all of you and all your encouragement.” I looked over in the crowd and found my family sitting in the first row. We made eye contact, and I smiled. It was very important for me to thank them because my parents raised me to be who I am, and it was so special to be able to hear the kind words. My parents have always been the greatest influences in my life and they have always taught me that hard work pays off. In this moment I felt like I was living up to this phrase that they had so often repeated to me.

“Mazel tov, Caroline,” my parents said. I sighed in relief and couldn’t believe I actually pulled it off. As I looked all around the temple, I saw my friends and family smiling and clapping. My friends ran towards me, all hugging me at once. I was so overwhelmed with love from everyone there who has supported me from the beginning of this long journey. We all gathered together on the bema and my Rabbi played “Sweet Caroline” on the piano. Tears filled my eyes. All my hard work had paid off, and it was time to celebrate!