Good

Yesterday my husband and I attended a special ceremony at the Latrun Armored Tank Corp Museum and Memorial site. The purpose of the gathering was to commemorate fifty years of my son’s tank brigade. Proceeding the program there was food for all as well as activities and games for all the children. There were hundreds of youngsters enjoying the site, all of whom had survived months and months of their fathers’ absences as those young men fought to protect the Jewish people. Once the ceremony began there were, of course, speeches; some from old-timers, some from youngies, some were interesting, some less so. The one that touched my heart was the officer expressing the army’s gratitude to all the wives and children who had supported their soldiers when our country needed them. As I hugged my daughter-in-law tears rolled down my face. They increased as the fallen soldiers and the injured from the brigade were remembered. How thankful I am that my son stood safe and whole nearby, but how my heart ached for the absent ones and their families.

Seated in front of us were eight soldiers with matching T-shirts. Emblazoned on them was the following message in Hebrew: We went in to destroy evil: We returned to build good Contrary to what many in the western world want to believe Hamas is evil. They are evil as they starve, exploit, and use their people as human shields. They are evil in their refusal to recognize Israel’s right to exist. They are evil in their wish to annihilate the Jewish people. There are evil in their continual abuse of civilian hostages. If anyone would take a true look at history, they would know that we, the Jewish people, represent good. Even though we do not want war, we will continue to fight against the evil of hate, rape, murder, abduction, lies, and anti-Semitism no matter how long it takes. Just as the T-shirts state we will build good. And in the end our good will banish all evil.

9th of Av

The saddest day of the year. The day we mourn the destruction of the first and second Holy Temples which once graced Jerusalem. In the past I found it challenging to mourn something I'd never seen, never visited, never experienced. So year after year, in between my prayers, I would read about the Holocaust and listen to testimonies of survivors with blue tattoos on their arms. Some years I added lamentations from those expelled from Gush Katif in a misguided attempt for peace. There were also the years I read eulogies of our precious soldiers who gave their lives to defend me. I knew if we had not lost our Holy Temple none of these tragedies would have happened and I was able to mourn. This year, I don't do any of those things. I just look at the news and I weep. I cry for Avinatan and the other hostages and all their loved ones. I cry for the bereaved families, the ones I know and the ones who are just names to me. I cry for those who have been forced from their homes by warfare. I cry for the wives, mothers, sons, daughters, grandparents, and husbands who long to have their soldiers home. I cry for myself. But I refuse to despair. There have been too many miracles, too many prophecies coming true. So, I turn my crying into tears of hope. Hope that indeed we will end the hatred and the bloodshed and serve HaShem with full hearts. I am certain the prophecy of Isaih that we will read this afternoon is getting closer every day. I will bring them (the Jewish people) to My holy mountain, and I will gladden them in My house of prayer; their elevation offerings and their feast offerings will find favor on My Alter, for My House (the Third Holy Temple) will be called a house of prayer for all the people. Isiah chapter 56, verse 7

Hanging

My father, z'l, used to say you can get used to anything, even hanging, if you hang long enough. After 640 days of the October 7th War, I am still not used to our young men and boys dying in battle in a war we never asked for. This morning, I awoke to the awful news of five more precious lives snuffed out by an explosive device in Beit Hanoun. Along with that was a "Good Morning " message from my son in Gaza letting me know he was safe. An hour or so later, his wife called and informed me that he had been near the explosion. Swallowing my tears, I tried to be supportive to her. She, in turn, tried to reassure me. It's not easy. Sometimes, a ceasefire and having our sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, husbands, and wives home again sounds so tempting. But what about the 50 hostages still in the terror tunnels? And what about the 888 fallen soldiers? They will have died in vain if Hamas accepts a ceasefire only so they can prepare for more attacks as they've done in the past. Their evil cancer of terror must be stopped, but please, HaShem, end the malignancy without any more losses.

No Choice

Last week the war with Iran ended but not the war with Hamas. Today, after a five day break, my youngest son returned to Gaza. Last week the war with Iran ended but not the war with terror. This past Friday my oldest son spent the afternoon fighting an arson fire. Some fight with guns, others with hoses, and some with prayers and good deeds. We are all on the front lines and we will be victorious. We have no choice.

THANK YOU!!!

It’s no fun waking up from a deep sleep in the middle of the night and stumbling to a bomb shelter. It’s no picnic during the day either. Yet, for years what I have been experiencing for the past ten days was an almost daily occurrence for those residing in southern Israel and almost that long for the ones living in the Tel Aviv area. All became quite serious everywhere in Israel last Friday and we’re still in shut down today. No schools, no gatherings, no day care, no museums, no nature reserves, no theatres, no restaurants. The only shopping we can do is for food and thankfully the grocers remain well stocked. Despite being restless, concerned, and suffering from sleep deprivation, I feel positive. We know from world history a bully cannot be appeased. Israel and now The United States are doing their utmost to stop Iran from its evil terror. I am extremely thankful to the Almighty for all the success He has granted us. Yes, there have been painful moments and losses but there have been so many miracles. An office building was destroyed on a day no one was working. A synagogue was hit at the exact moment no one was praying there. Families leave their shelters to discover their homes in shambles but realize they are safe. May G-d continue to protect us. הודו לשם כי טוב, כי לעלום חסדו Give thanks to HaShem for He is good, His Kindness endures forever.

The High Dive

On Thursday morning, during the missile attack, this “little” piece of shrapnel fell at the entrance of Ariel, our closest town 21 kilometers away. Despite the possible danger, my husband and I ventured out of our bubble and made the twenty-minute drive to Ariel. I cannot say I wasn’t nervous. It was kind of like going up the high dive for the first time at the swimming pool of my youth. Each step up the ladder was a test of nerves and leaving the board for the water below was pure terror. Once I did it, though, and saw I survived, the next time was so much easier. Thankfully, we returned home safely without hearing any sirens and needing to run to a bomb shelter. Will it be easier next week? I pray it will. I pray HaShem grants us true peace along with total victory and there will be no reason for anyone to fear leaving home.

How are you?

That question, asked by caring friends and relatives across the ocean, is truly appreciated. Yet, I'm finding it a complicated one to answer. Except for exhaustion- it’s challenging to get a good night’s sleep when sirens keep me running for the shelter- I’m physically fine. Emotionally, well, I’ve been on a roller coaster the last four days. Here are some of my feelings: Awe we destroyed as much of Iran’s nuclear power that we did. Sorrow some precious souls have been lost and many, many injured by Iran. Concern for all the children without programs, friends and strangers stranded outside Israel. Regret that, despite the roads being open, I don’t feel comfortable traveling to see my children and grandchildren who do not live in Shilo. Disappointment at canceled plans. Worry about what will happen to the Israeli economy since everything- except for the essential services- are shut down. Appreciation to the supermarket workers, gas station attendants, and all the other essential employees. Along with them are the volunteers doing their best to improve our quality of life during this shutdown. Anxiety about upcoming attacks. Even though the rockets are not aimed at my tiny village, I hear plenty of booms which means Israel is intercepting the missiles. Falling shrapnel can be deadly, so I listen to the civil guard’s instructions. And of course, I’m distressed at what could be happening in the big population centers. Thankfulness I have a shelter in my house and a husband to share it with. Stressed with one son returning to Gaza leaving his wife and children to run to the shelter by themselves, a son-in-law in reserve duty means my daughter has to deal with her children and home front alone, another son on standby for reserve duty, a third on call as a volunteer fireman. My middle daughter works in ER in a centrally located hospital, and I can’t imagine what she sees there. All of them, all of the country, are dealing with children at home, challenges to their livelihoods, and all the above emotions. However, underlying all of this is the knowledge that we’re in HaShem’s hands. He has kept the Jewish people alive all these years and is not about to stop doing so now. The end will be good. I pray it won’t be too painful to get there.