I know you will understand when I say that time seems to have its own pace. It will move slowly and then, without warning, begin to race, almost frighteningly.

This summer crept along. So did I. I watched the moon wax and wane, the months move almost glacially.

And then time leapt forward, and I found myself entering the month of Elul feeling unprepared for the High Holidays, unsure of my heart, not knowing where I would go to services—or if I would go at all.

And now here I sit on an airplane, hurtling toward a place I saw only twice, nearly 40 years ago. Time has folded in on itself, and I find myself remembering who I was so long ago.

I’ve written the sermons. Reviewed the prayers. Created the handouts. I’m ready to return to west Tennessee and lead services there.

But today my mind dwells on the “I’m not quite ready” questions that I revisit every year and somehow, in my indecisive fog, had overlooked this year.

What apologies do I owe to God, to other people, and to myself?

What one habit can I take on in the year to come that will improve my life, improve me?

What can I do to help make the world a better place? Yes, we are small and insignificant, but we are also obligated.

For many years, my favorite of these questions was: If I knew it wouldn’t fail, what new thing would I take on?

But not this year.

Because last year I took on something new, and it failed. I could have walked away. Instead, I picked it up, dusted it off, changed it, and tried again.

It may fail. It may not.

But my new favorite question has become: What gives me joy?

For me, it’s not going to services, although it was. It’s not leading services, although that was joyful too. It is learning and teaching. That is where my heart lies. That is when I am happiest.

As the decades pile up behind me, I am content to let this be my final experience of leading High Holiday services. I am not certain what the year ahead will bring, or how much time I have.

But I know where my heart is leading me.

I am ready to become the Rabbi Jennifer of my future.