Thursday evening, I ate meatloaf. Friday morning, I woke up feeling queasy. Within moments, I was horribly sick to my stomach.

By midday I had lost nearly 5 pounds. A friend drove me to the doctor, who sent me for a CT scan, just to make certain it was the food, since I’ve had serious stomach issues in the past.

I cancelled my afternoon service at the assisted living facility that I visit every week. I lay on my sofa and cried a little instead of leading Shabbat services Friday evening and my co-service leader gave my sermon for me.

Saturday morning, weak as a kitten, I managed to assemble matza ball soup from a box, chicken thighs from the freezer and a half-empty box of noodles. By afternoon I was strong enough to venture out for ginger ale.

It’s Sunday morning. Yom Kippur begins tonight and the past two days are a blur.

My white dress needs to be ironed, my sermons need to be printed, and I haven’t finished transferring the service outlines into my prayer book.

I scanned through my emails this morning. “May you be inscribed,” said one subject line. “During this sacred time of reflection,” began another.

I don’t have the energy to read further. All I can think about as I sit here on the sofa, sipping flat ginger ale and feeling like a wrung out wash cloth, is Alan Lew’s book about the Jewish High Holy Days, “This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared.”

I have never felt so unprepared to lead Yom Kippur services. Not rested enough, not back to normal.

And yet in a very real sense, I have never felt more ready. I am calm and clear.

The hurrying and rushing and preparing and minutia are over. There is no more time to prepare. It is time to simply Be and to open my heart to the Divine.