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When I was 12 years old, I decided that I didn't believe in God. He didn't exist.
How could He? Even after I prayed to God every night as a child that my parents wouldn't get divorced, they still got divorced. Wasn't God supposed to answer prayers?
In the Bible, there were so many supposed miracles that occurred. Well, if God was real, how come the miracles stopped? It all seemed like it was made up.
My parents weren't religious—we celebrated Christmas and Easter but only in a secular way. My grandmother tried to teach me Catholicism, but I didn't connect with it at all. The "Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep" prayer she taught me terrified me. I didn't want to think about dying in my sleep.
I became convinced that there was no God, and religion was stupid. It was there to control and manipulate us. It was bad for society. People who believed in God were fooling themselves. We lived and we died and that was it.
And then, when I was 21, I met a man named Danny. I felt a fluttering in my stomach when he introduced himself to me. It turned out, he felt the same way, and within a few months, we started dating.
My introduction to Judaism
Danny was a former observant Jew who had turned away from his religion after some bad experiences. He purposely dated non-Jewish girls as an act of rebellion. But recently, a rabbi stopped him on the street and asked him if he wanted to come for Shabbat dinner on Friday night. Danny went because he was broke and the rabbi was nice. He ended up enjoying the experience.
One week, when we were particularly broke, Danny took me to a Friday night dinner with that rabbi at his Chabad house. I learned that Chabad was a Hasidic, Orthodox Jewish organization that aims to bring Jews closer to Judaism. The rabbi had a long, black beard and wore a black hat and suit. I was scared he was going to judge me for not being Jewish—but he and his wife were incredibly nice to me.
I sat at the Shabbat table, eating delicious home-cooked food with Jews from all walks of life, from the Hasidic rabbi and his family to a businessman in orange glasses and a young hipster artist. As I sat, I listened to the rabbi speak and I felt a warmth in my chest I'd never felt before.
I asked Danny to take me back the next week. And then the next.
Slowly, as I learned more about Judaism, I started to believe in God. I believed that open miracles didn't happen anymore, but that didn't mean God wasn't there. After all, we couldn't see gravity, but we knew it was there.
So much about Judaism made sense to me. The gratitude prayer that Jews say every morning, Modeh Ani, taught me to be grateful for waking up. If I woke up grumpy in the past, I would say, "This is going to be a terrible day," and, of course, it would be. But after learning about Modeh Ani, if I woke up grumpy, I could say, "At least I'm alive. At least I'm breathing." Then, I found my day would get better from there.
I also loved celebrating Shabbat, a full 25 hours where I'd turn off my phone, take a break from driving and technology and spend time with Danny, our friends and members of our community. It refreshed me. I was addicted to social media and email, and this was such a nice break from it.
As an animal lover, I was happy to hear that there are many Jewish laws that teach us to be kind to animals. If we own animals—which I did—we must feed them before we feed ourselves. We are required to treat animals with respect. And if we slaughter them to eat them, we must do so in a way where they don't feel any pain or know that they are going to get slaughtered.
Converting to Judaism
After going to the Chabad house and Danny's parents' house for Shabbat for half a year, I decided I wanted to convert. Since Chabad didn't do conversions, I found an Orthodox synagogue in my neighborhood and started my conversion process. I went to classes on the Torah, Shabbat and the Jewish holidays.
At first, Danny didn't want to take part in the process. But seeing me learn sparked something inside of him. He loved spending Shabbat with me and remembered the calming feeling it gave him when he was younger. He enjoyed praying again; he said it helped him connect with himself, and with God. Eventually, Danny started coming to classes with me and we grew in our observance together.
I took five years to convert, because it took five years until Danny was ready to get married. I didn't mind; I was only 21 years old when we first started dating, and I didn't want to rush into getting married either.
He ended up proposing to me at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, in the snow. It was completely empty and silent on the women's side. I took my time to talk to God about my hopes and dreams for the future. I wanted to build a beautiful Jewish home with Danny and have children with him.
When it was time for me to convert, I went to a mikvah, a ritual bath made up of natural water. I dipped three times in the mikvah and came out as a Jew. My Hebrew name is Ronit Ora; Ronit is a popular Israeli name that means "song" and "one who gives happiness," while "Ora" means "light."
Becoming part of the community
Today, Danny and I are married and living in Los Angeles, and we're part of the Orthodox Jewish community here. We're surrounded by the most wonderful and giving people who are there for us whenever we need them.
When we had both of our beautiful daughters, people in the community—even strangers—provided us with meals for a month straight and sent gifts and blessings our way. In the Jewish community, your personal simcha (joy) becomes everybody's. And if, God forbid, anything negative happens, they're there for you, too.
My community is incredibly giving—Orthodox Jews fundraise for all sorts of people and organizations in need. We give at least 10 percent of our income to charity and are always trying to make the world a better place. I believe I have become a much better person by being observant.
When I was younger, I was depressed, and I was lost. Now, I feel so much happier. When things don't go well, I believe that it's just part of God's plan, and I trust that what He's doing is for the best—even if it isn't clear what that is in the moment.
I'm so glad I found faith. It has transformed my life into one that's inspiring, joyful, and, most importantly, filled with meaning.
Kylie Ora Lobell is a writer and editor based in Los Angeles. Find out more about her work at kylieoralobell.com.
All views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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