My husband, Josh, and I sat up at night and—always prefaced by some version of "Thank God it's not worse"—bemoaned the fact that our daughter, the granddaughter of a rabbi, would never eat a bagel or a noodle kugel or a blintz. For that matter, what about pizza and beer: How would she attend college—or law school? Coincidentally—or, to my spiritual nature, not at all coincidentally—Josie was diagnosed several days before Passover. By halachaic definition, the holiday excludes forbidden grains and anything derived from them, making it blessedly gluten-free, apart from matzo, matzo meal and any combinations thereof. For Josh and me, getting rid of the chametz in our house served as a literal and spiritual cleansing. Lo, the winter had passed, and spring was here. Out with the food that made our daughter sick, and the two of us sick with worry, and in with…well, what?

We snapped into action, bought cookbooks, sought out gluten-free Web sites, joined support groups and called anyone and everyone we knew who knew someone with the disease. In short order, Josie healed. She gained weight, grew several inches and regained her sunny disposition and physical energy. This was a miracle: She was glowing with health. Now we just had to keep her that way.

Celiac disease is a genetic disease that affects approximately one in every 130 people, most of them, like Ashkenazi Jews, of European descent. In fact, according to Mary J. Shomon, author of Living Well with Autoimmune Disease, Ashkenazi Jews are more prone to diseases affecting the bowel, such as Crohn's, colitis and celiac disease. And if one family member is a celiac, her first-degree relatives have an increased chance of also having the disease. So our next step was to have the rest of the family tested. While my husband, Josh, was in the clear, our younger daughter, Raina, and I tested positive and also must follow a gluten-free diet. So that's three of us in one family requiring special foods every time we dine.

Our doctor was relieved to learn we had the bagel situation quickly in hand—we found a perfectly acceptable gluten-free version in the freezer section at our local Whole Foods, made by Glutino (www.glutino.com). Toasted and smeared with cream cheese, or topped with lox and tomato, you can hardly tell the difference.

Challah also was soon solved. My parents, apparently, had been up at night too, but the focus of their rumination was that comforting weekly hunk of braided bread. They called with an offer: They would learn to bake gluten-free challah so that our girls would never go a Friday night without it. And so they found a recipe, bought a fancy mixer with dough hooks and went into business. The result is warm, squishy, delicious challah, delivered by my parents weekly. And never a Friday night without it.

But the Jewish holidays took a little more work—and more than a little patience, creativity and diplomacy to get it right. Apart from Passover, which we have dubbed The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, the holidays all seemed to feature foods that contain gluten. Think kugel (noodles), matzo-ball soup (matzo meal), latkes (flour to bind), hamantaschen (flour). We had to learn a whole new vocabulary of alternative flours, products and techniques. It took the better part of the first year of living with celiac disease to educate ourselves and our families.

Some Jewish foods, like matzo balls, became simply off-limits, while others, like latkes and kugel, were in need of a simple gluten-free makeover. Others were a little sneakier. Take the ultimate Jewish soul food, brisket, for example. You wouldn't necessarily know it, but so often those beloved everything-but-the-kitchen-sink brisket recipes contain ingredients, like onion soup mix, with hidden glutens. We pored over recipes trying to address everything, including salad dressings, ketchup brands and spice mixes. Oh, and then there's the issue of dessert—rugelach, apple cake, mandelbrot. Oy.

Add to the cooking challenges the sometimes thorny politics of being part of an extended family. Turning down some of that generations-old recipe? Not easy, especially when it's just a little taste, just this once, and it's the holidays for goodness sakes. It can be difficult to explain the degree to which gluten sickens people with celiac disease, but we cannot eat even a molecule. The smallest amount damages the intestinal lining, causing the sufferer to stop absorbing nutrients and leading to a host of health problems, ranging from diarrhea, vomiting, fatigue, depression and joint pain to an increased risk of certain intestinal cancers.

Of course, when we host holidays in our home, food is a non-issue. But with two proud Jewish grandmas and a grandpa, several aunts and a large network of family friends nearby, we are sometimes guests rather than hosts. Without being too pushy or inconveniencing everyone too much, we needed to make sure we could enjoy the holidays elsewhere while staying healthy. Luckily, our family, friends and community were eager to help once they got over their anxiety. The aunts and the grandmas were worried at first. What if they made us sick? Would it be too much work? Could they still make the family's favorites? How were they going to show their love?

My parents, having mastered challah, moved on to gluten-free gravy and stuffing for Thanksgiving, as well as a truly decadent flourless chocolate torte, suitable for Passover or anytime. Aunt Jennifer perfected her chocolate-chip meringues and adapted her delicious brownie trifle to make it gluten-free by using Pamela's Irresistible Chocolate Brownie Mix (available at glutenfreemall.com, Whole Foods and health food stores). Aunt Rachel adopted our gluten-free brisket recipe as her family favorite. Nana Marcia started making her strawberry Jell-O mold with gluten-free ingredients. The teachers at our daughters' synagogue preschool bought gluten-free play dough for their classrooms and offered to make Chanukah cookies with gluten-free dough. And friends Beth and Jeff ensured that not a Shabbat dinner passed at their house where our children couldn't eat the challah, and not a birthday party passed for their children where ours couldn't eat the cake.

We learned early on that we could ease the burden and alleviate performance anxiety for friends, family and community by offering to bring a gluten-free dish or dessert for our host and by volunteering in our children's classrooms for cooking activities. We also learned some bigger lessons from our experience with celiac disease. Being a little "different" has taught us and our children more compassion toward others. Friends and family have taught us that if we are willing to ask for it, they will surprise us by their willingness to help. And Josie and Raina continue to teach us how to bear exclusion—at birthday parties, school events and, yes, sometimes the holiday table—with humor and grace.

But perhaps the most important thing we learned along our journey with celiac disease is that while food is an integral part of the way we Jews celebrate, comfort each other, create memories and show love, it is by no means the most important part. Take that food off the table, and what do you have? The people sitting around you, your family, friends and community. And that is what really nourishes us all.