Boker Tov Olam, Ma Shlom Kulam? These were the starting words of a tv show that played every summer of my childhood in Israel. It was the theme song for Pinocchio, cutting off his strings and becoming a ‘real boy’.  Today, I am cutting off my so called strings, stepping out of the box, and reclaiming the name that feels most true to me: Keren Or – קרן אור.

I have gone by so many names over the years. Keren, mostly, to most people in my life. Ema, to those who matter to me most. Kerenita, to those who still remember me as a little girl and lovingly perpetuate this nickname of mine. And many more—some I’m aware of and others I’m probably not.

But today, I am returning to the name Keren Or.

This change has been years in the making. It’s not just about a name—it’s about stepping into a new chapter, one that reflects who I am now and the journey I’ve taken to get here. Keren Or holds deep meaning for me, connecting my past, my present, and the light I want to carry forward.

I’d love to tell you how this name, came about…

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I took 24—or maybe it was 18—hours of agony to come into the world. That was my mother’s agony, not mine. I have no idea what I was thinking, of course. My parents decided to name me Keren, a common name that would work in the U.S. as well, just in case I ended up living here one day. And what do you know, here I am.

My dad wasn’t in the room when I was born, and when my mom saw I was a girl, she worried he might be disappointed. They had discussed names ahead of time and decided on Keren, but when I was born, my mom wanted to give me something more. She named me Keren Or – A ray of light.

Although my father was on board with this name, it never made it to my birth certificate. Born in a little hospital called Hadassah in Jerusalem—before it moved to Har ha’Zofim—my official name growing up became Keren Zur (קרן צור). That’s it.

But in my childhood, the name Keren Or became something special. It was the name I was called in moments when I sparkled—the name my family knew me by. My mom even crafted tiny little pillows in the shape of letters to spell Keren Or and hung them on my wall. It became the name I most identify with in my inner world.

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For most of my life, I’ve been known simply as Keren. I’ve always felt that my name was just my first name—simple and easy, nothing more. My last name, whether it was Zur or later my ex-husband’s name, never felt as integral to my identity.

And in that simplicity, I embraced the paradox: the quintessential “American girl” with an unmistakable accent. It was a joke I carried with me lightly, even after taking on my ex-husband’s last name, a name that gave me the three most magnificent gifts of my life—my children, and a whole new understanding of myself and of what it means to love.

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A few years ago, I let go of that name. I let go of being a Smith. I let go of a marriage that no longer worked for me. In doing so, I began searching for the person I had lost after years of unhappiness.

And here I am. Hineni. Keren Or.

There’s so much I hope to share with you in time about this journey—how, at 44, I found myself alone with three children and limited means to support them. Taking that leap into the unknown was terrifying, but as I stepped into the uncertainty, I did two things: I remembered the burning light within me—a fire that has guided and sustained me my entire life—and I set an intention to become whole again. I’m still working on that.

As I shed parts of myself that no longer served me and removed the toxicity from both my outer and inner worlds, I began reconnecting with the person I once was—the person who knew how to simply be. To live in the moment. To feel alive, joyful, and most of all, real.

This is who I’ve come to discover.

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For those of you reading this who may not speak Hebrew, let me share the meaning of my name. Keren can mean many things: it’s the word for a foundation, as in Keren Kayemet, the foundation for Israel. It can mean “horn,” as in the horn of an animal, or even “angle”, and actually has many more meanings.  But Keren Or—my name—means a ray of light.

And today, as I turn 49^th the square of 7 years on this earth, I decided to step out of that square, and reclaim my inner name.

Thank you for landing me your eyes so I can share my new and old name with you.