My soldier

Last night the doorbell rang at 1:30am.

Thats not likely a good thing. My heart was in my throat as I saw the outline of a soldier in our security camera. Only two possibilities went through my mind - terrorists are still suspected to be around our homes in IDF uniforms, or the worst possible news a parent of a soldier can expect… delivered by the IDF. I buzzed the door downstairs. Hyper-vigilant in a world where surprises are not good.

Best surprise ever!
Our daughter was given an 8 hour leave of absence. She was so tired she’d forgotten the code to our apartment so she rang the bell. Her base is just over an hour a way so it was less than 6 hours we had her. For the first time in days, we could hug her, she showered, she ate real food. She slept in a real bed. And then she was up and ready to go.

My thoughts…

What a backwards world we live in where our children are defending their parents. My daughter is a soldier. Defending her home and people. My heart is equally broken and filled with pride and admiration for her courage and her strength.

What an incomprehensible reality that parents have been murdered, protecting their children and leaving them orphaned. And yet we feel grateful there is still life that survived the tragedy.

I’m judging myself for the anguish I feel, that I am sad, exhausted, unfocused, not helping enough. That I’m not keeping my energy up when my people need me.

How does anyone compartmentalize such a traumatic event, ever? But especially while we’re still going through it?

How can we feel ok from 9 to 5 when our world is upside down, and we are grieving and scared, and worried for our (my) soldiers and our country?

This morning I saw 3 cars parked next to eachother. Each one had a woman inside. Sitting there crying. They are mothers who went to sit in thir cars to cry so their children won’t see them. Crying for fear of their husbands in uniform. Crying for loss of friends and family. For the massacre, the hostages. For our beautiful country. Crying for the fact that we’re at war. We hate war.

I understand that we are stronger than we give ourselves credit for. We can allow the tears to fall. Allow ourselves to be angry, sad and mad. Allow ourselves to sob when we need to. And we can still be strong for our children, for eachother.

There is no rule book here. Show yourself the compassion that you'd give others is the message to myself, to my Jewish brothers and sisters all over the world.

So today, my husband took food and flowers to a family we know in Tel Aviv. 3 women on their own, staying together while their husbands are in scary places.

My sisters baked for 30 families from the south, temporarily located in the local hotel up the road.

Every store we bought food for shabbat took donations to pack food up for soldiers and displaced families.

We visited the homes of mourning families as they sit shiva.

And will prepare for Shabbat. A time we can be together. Focus our attention. Replenish our spiritual energy. Hopefully without any visits to the bomb shelter. Hopefully without any more bad news.

These posts are so, very hard to write.

With love from Israel,
🇮🇱 עם ישראל חי 🇮🇱