Most of my children wanted to put a note in the Kosel, but my ten-year-old hung back
Two summers ago, my husband and I embarked on a repeat trip with our four children, all newbies to Yerushalayim (as least in passport-stamping capacity). The first day, we took an hour-long bus ride winding through Yerushalayim at a snail’s pace (a rite of passage) from the central bus station through the old city to the Kosel. After we davened Minchah and said Tehillim, most of my children wanted to put a note in the Kosel, but my ten-year-old hung back.
“I’m not sure how to put into words what I want to say,” she mused. She repeated this comment during almost every ensuing trip we made to the Kosel.
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