A Soldier's Mother

A Sabbath Routine

2012-01-28T20:07:00.000+02:00

I've written a lot lately about my Fridays - about the preparation we do for the Sabbath here. I've tried to write about our Shabbat and what it means here as well. This Friday, I had more of an opportunity. My parents came to visit, bringing one of my mother's visiting students along.

This guest to our country is not Jewish and as I put out food, he looked around with curiosity and interest. He took a picture of two paintings I have in my home - one is an image of the exodus from Egypt - painted with the use of miniature letters. Using the Hebrew words from the entire book of Exodus (Shemot), the amazing artist created the scene of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt and through the Red Sea. The Pillar of Fire in the background was created with the very words in the Bible describing this scene. The second painting is a view of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives - to create it, the artist (same man) used all of the words of the Book of Psalms (Lamentations).

Our guest also took a picture of the Sabbath candles waiting to be lit. I use oil and this week, 8 candles were ready to be lit near the window. It looked so pretty, so ready for Shabbat. I had prepared the challah dough late, late Thursday night so that it would be ready when they came. My mother said the blessing over separating the challah from the dough (you can learn about that custom here) and then I braided three loaves.

After we had a quick breakfast, I took my mother and guest and a short tour of Maale Adumim - explaining both Jewish customs and Maale Adumim. It is an interesting experience explaining your life to someone who asks simply because he wants to know and comes without preconceived thoughts. Israel remains an interesting combination of ancient and modern. In one short conversation, we spoke of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and his sons, and the history of Israel from 1948 beyond 1967. We spoke of a mall and a bowling alley, the nearby Bedouins who live across the highway, and so much more.

They left a few hours before Shabbat, leaving me time to finish baking the rest of the challah and finish preparing. My husband brought beautiful flowers to our house, everyone showered, and we went off to synagogue services and dinner at my daughter's house.

We are gearing up for my daughter's bat mitzvah celebration this week...and I'm overwhelmed with things to do so I may fall silent a bit in the next few weeks. The week after the bat mitzvah (in which we will be serving/I will be making - 150 small pizzas, 6 quiches, 2 lasagnas, 3 cheese cakes, 1 huge birthday cake, several salads and more), I have a national conference (for which I have to make around 800 chocolate chip cookies) that we host and then it is full steam ahead for the wedding. Immediately after the wedding, just a bit over a week later, comes the holiday of Passover, a nightmare for most wives and mothers...I know that's a terrible way to describe a holiday. Maybe when it gets closer I'll remember the nice things...

In short, each Shabbat holds the only chance I'll get for the next few weeks to slow down, stop, and breathe.

Blind and Toothless

2012-01-27T09:37:00.000+02:00

I've always been amazed at how many translations and variations there are to the Bible. For me, as my Hebrew has improved, I return more and more often to the Hebrew as the source and smile at the many incorrect translations I see. Perhaps the most notorious is the misconception that we are charged with, "Thou shalt not kill." That's wrong. There are times and situations in which we are not only allowed to kill, but commanded to kill.

If a gunman is holding your child and you know that you have a clear shot and in doing so, you will save the life of your child - you are commanded to take that shot. It is a kill - allowed by all that is right, by God. The proper translation of the commandment is "Thou shalt not murder." To murder is very different than to kill. I will live with the reality that my son killed. It is so hard to write that, almost unbearable. And at the same time, I say with complete certainty, he did not murder. Gaza held a gun to the heads of our children, and Elie and his unit - the entire Israeli army, took the shot...and it was clean and not murder, despite the many lies the Palestinians continue to tell to this day.

The mosques that we bombed - had explosives in them. The videos are clear - secondary explosions where our bombs set off the explosives stored within what should have been a holy building. That is war - and in war, you kill...you do not murder, ever. To shoot a rocket into a city is to attempt to murder. Of course, if your elected officials condone putting military installations and shooting rockets from within your cities, there is a huge problem - but there are no military bases IN Beersheva, IN Shderot, IN Ashkelon. The target remains, the crime, when accomplished, is murder.

That is one kind of war; but quietly, Israel is involved in another war and this week, this secondary war made the headlines. When I saw a news article yesterday, it made me think of Fiddler on the Roof and Tevye, in his infinite wisdom, responding to a villager who called for revenge using the Biblical phrase, "An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth."

Tevye responded with brilliant disdain, "Very good. That way the whole world will be blind and toothless."

There's been a cyber-war going on in the Middle East - thankfully not nearly as deadly and dangerous as the real one that we have been living for 64 years, but at times humorous, at times depressing. This week, Arab hackers attacked at least two Israeli hospital websites, a civilian bus company, and a theater. This electronic war will likely increase in the days, months, and years to come.

I think cyber-wars are great when the target is the Iranian nuclear program. They say "all's fair in love and war" - well, I don't know if cyber war is fair but in this case, anything that Israel or the US or any hacker can do to slow the Iranian nuclear program will offer the benefit of hopefully avoiding bloodshed on all sides so I'd say, "go for it."

In recent months, Israeli newspapers came under attack, and even several banks. No harm done, as far as I am concerned - certainly nothing compared to real-life injuries. It's annoying, it's childish - whatever. I don't really care because while it may cause financial loss, it is what it is and the sun continues to shine, we have food in the stores, schools give out report cards, the trains continue to run. In short, real life continues.

Two days ago, Arab hackers attacked two Israeli hospitals - bringing down their websites. That bothered me. What possible gain is there in these targets, probably soft targets after all, and not much of a challenge to a determined hacker? More, it is likely that close to half the people treated in these Israeli hospitals are Arabs - okay, maybe that was my impression, but I can tell you it was well above the percentage of the population the Arab community represents. I can tell you that each time I have had to go to a hospital here in Israel - several of the nurses are Arabs, a few of the doctors are Arabs, and many of the patients as well.

Arabs come from all over - Gaza, Jordan, and beyond to our hospitals (even Iran and Iraq) to get the best care available in the Middle East - by dedicated professionals who do not differentiate between Arab and Jew when it comes to care. Several years ago, Israel was shaken by the image of a young Palestinian woman shrieking out in anger and pain because the soldiers at the checkpoint became suspicious and checked her carefully. As they demanded she stand isolated and remove her coat, they saw the explosives wrapped around her waist and the cameras caught her agonizing scream when she realized she had failed to reach her target.

Years before that day, she had been injured and maimed by a fire (no connection to Israel) - she was taken to the hospital in Beersheva because the burns were so severe. The doctors treated for her wounds and she was discharged. Her goal that day when she was caught by the soldiers was to go to the very same emergency room where her life had been saved - she was going to thank the doctors and caregivers, by blowing up the hospital.

Now, that is real damage, a real attack - but for the most part, a cyber-attack on a newspaper or even a hospital site carries no long term repercussions. The goal of attacking the Iranian nuclear program using cyber weapons will save lives; the goal of attacking an Israeli hospital website just shows again a lack of humanity (again). The only people hurt by this are the ones at the hospitals and patients who need information - including Arab patients.

I was disgusted by the attack, which, like the rocket attacks on Israeli civilians, is just wrong. They hit a bus company and a theater in Israel as well. Why? What do they gain by this? Other than well deserved disgust, that is.

And then yesterday, I saw that Israeli hackers (calling themselves the IDF Team) had hacked into the Iranian English language television and the Iranian Health Ministry. Okay, as targets go, I'd rather the cyber war attack governmental targets rather than civilian hospitals, but still, I remembered Tevye's remark.

I wanted to go back to the source for the Biblical quote - and so I checked various Internet sites. The phrase is known to many of us - or at least in part, "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." But it continues, "a hand for a hand, a foot for a foot, a burn for a burn, a wound for a wound," etc. It is part of an involved description of legal retribution described in the book of Shemot (Exodus), chapter 21. And the rabbis who have interpreted the Bible for generations and beyond, are quick to point out that it does not refer to gauging out the eye of someone who has hurt you or cutting off the hand of a thief. Rather, it refers to the value of the injury - likely one of the first documented instances of social justice. If you cause harm, the Bible is teaching us, you must take responsibility - not revenge, but social compensation.

The sentence that precedes this one refers to a life for a life - and here there is the Hebrew word אָסֹון which is mistakenly translated by some as "mischief" or "harm." In Israel, we use this word for tragedy and in the more faithful translations, it is more correctly rendered as a fatality, as a death. There are indeed cases when it is a life for a life, and other cases where it remains a monetary obligation.

Whatever the source or the translation, it is about a life for a life, social justice in a balanced way. It is not our way to attack civilians, hospitals, the innocent - even on the web. I'm not sure what the Israeli hackers accomplished. When I first saw the news item, I was concerned that they had attacked Arab hospital websites in retaliation for what was done to Israeli hospitals. I would have condemned that because, as Tevye said, there's really no logic in the whole world being blind and toothless.

I'm relieved that it was a government site and hope, if they continue their cyber battles, that the so-called IDF team will continue to differentiate between hurting civilians and targeting their attacks where they belong.
Bring down the Iranian government, its army, its nuclear program and yes, even the health ministry and television. For that, I will say "kol hakavod" - all honor for what you do.

But please, don't lose who we are in your quest to return to them what they fire on us. Don't take down their hospital websites - it isn't our way. Don't attack their bus companies or theaters - nothing is gained by this and no honor received.

An Israeli Speaks

2012-01-26T08:47:00.000+02:00

As a writer, I prefer to give my own words, rather than rely on others. It is rare that I agree with a politician, even more rare that I will ask to borrow his words, to make them as if they are mine. Such is the case with the words of the Minister of Information and Diaspora, Yuli Edelstein:

The purpose of the anti-Semites is the same – to deny the common humanity of the Jew, to single him out, to scapegoat him. 70 years ago, this worked perfectly...Today, as the snow sets for the 70th time on the killing fields of Europe, where each garden, each meadow, each plowed furrow are fertilized by the ashes of my people, I come here in the name of my government, of the independent Jewish nation, to assure our friends, to make a promise to our enemies and to warn the indifferent:

When we say ‘Never again’, we mean it. We will not wait for another conference with baited breath and forlorn hope. We will not beg for compassion and sympathy. We will not be made to live with constant threat of another Holocaust.

We hope that this hour never comes. We hope that the civilized world has learned the bloody lessons of appeasement. We hope that the moral majority of humanity will rise above the selfish calculations of profit and loss, the petty politics and the cowardice masked as caution. We hope that any threat to civilization will be defeated by force of universal moral fury and sustained pressure, not by bombs and bloodshed. Today, as we come together to remember the millions of victims of Nazi barbarity and of the world's indifference, I ask you to help us to keep this hope alive and to make it true.

Let us all – Jews and Gentiles – take a stand together against tyranny and barbarism, let us destroy them before they'll swell with power, fed by the wealth of their lands and the blood of their victims. Let us deny them, in the words of Winston Churchill, those ‘lights of perverted science’ with which they plan to unleash a new Dark Age – first on their own captive peoples, and then on the rest of the world. Let us say to them, from here – we remember. We are vigilant. We are determined. We are united. We say to them together– never again.

We are vigilant. We are determined. We are united. We say to them together– never again. Yes, above all else, yes...

Congratulations to the Hackers, Rocket Launchers, Suicide Bombers

2012-01-26T08:22:00.000+02:00

Wait...I shouldn't congratulate them? Today, the hackers did something amazing. They took down the websites of two Israeli hospitals. That's right - hospitals. What brave and brilliant minds our enemies have. Who would have thought to do this? I'm so impressed...not.

It's this concept of claiming responsibility that I have never understood. After most terrorist bombings in Israel - some Palestinian organization (often many) stand up and "take responsibility." What does that mean? I want to yell out - when I was growing up - taking responsibility was a good thing; it was a sign of maturity.

In the world in which I grew up - murderers tried to get away with it, to hide what they had done. The last thing most of them wanted was for the police to figure out who they were and connect it with what they had done. You'll take responsibility for something that you are proud of, something you love. Do you take responsibility for maiming others, causing such horrible pain and agony?

A woman gave birth today in Israel. Her name is Pua Palmer and the birth of her healthy daughter should have been a day of amazing joy shared with her husband and her little son, Yonatan. Except that Asher and Yonatan were murdered by Arabs who deliberately slammed a huge rock into the front of Asher's car. He was injured; the car went out of control and both Asher and his baby son were killed.

Ignoring the obvious evidence on site, police announced it was a terrible car accident and not an attack. Only a few days later did they admit the truth. Today, Asher's daughter entered this world...to a world without a father to guide her, with a brother she will never know. No one took responsibility for the Palmer murders, though the terrorist was tracked down and brought to justice - little consolation to Pua, who will now raise her daughter alone.

But other acts of terror have been claimed by Hamas, Fatah, Islamic Jihad and other terrorist organizations; rocket attacks are frequently claimed. They are proud when they manage to launch a rocket at Israel; they are even more ecstatic when they hit something. The greater the carnage, the greater the celebrations - that is the reality of Gaza.

Today, hackers managed to break in to two hospital sites in Israel. There is no honor in murdering an infant and his father. There is no honor in hacking into the website of a hospital, and there is no honor in firing rockets into cities with the hope of causing terror, injury and damage.

This is yet another instance in which I can say that I believe peace is, at best, far in the distance. When your enemy has no honor, it is not possible to reach an honorable, peaceful solution.

Thoughts of a War

2012-01-22T08:03:00.001+02:00

This is the last post I am going to make looking back at a war and a time that I never want to live through again. The last post that I'll reprint here (and thank those of you who allowed me to take this journey again), was called Thoughts of a War. Elie was home; the bar mitzvah of my youngest son just over. I was concerned, almost consumed, with the thought that deep inside Elie there would be remnants of the war - there still are today; and perhaps psychological scars - there really are none.

There are memories but there was and there is an acceptance. This is what he had to do, as he did it. Those that died there were the inevitable result of Hamas' firing rockets and a war that had to be fought. There is peace in his heart as he prepares to take a wife and begin building his family. Above all things beyond health and safety one could wish for one's son - there is peace.

Thoughts of a War - January 26, 2009

After long talks with Elie, here are my thoughts (and his) on what came out of this war:
What came out of this war: A sense of unity, of a well trained army working together.
The army worked as a unit - each part doing their share and protecting its flank. Artillery was there, every step of the way, and their role was critical. For fear of writing too much, I will write too little. But I will tell you that the war was run as correctly as possible, each part doing what it was supposed to do. The credit for this brilliant campaign may be taken by the politicians, but they are not the ones who coordinated - they are only the ones who will take credit.

What was accomplished was done so by the planning of generals who finally focused on their goal, one that had to be done. Politically, it is not easy to bomb a mosque. Militarily, they had every right to do so - it was not a mosque, but an arsenal with a minaret. In this war, the generals won and thus Israel won. We bombed the mosques with rockets, the schools with missiles and for once we held Hamas accountable. If you do not care about your own people, Israel told Hamas, it is left to us to do our best to protect them. So we dropped leaflets warning the civilians to move away from the terrorists, to leave certain areas. I know this to be true - I have such a leaflet with me now because so many thousands were dropped over Gaza that with the wind, many blew the short distance into Israel and Elie caught one.

"Save it, Ima," Elie told me. Perhaps he too feels the need to remember that we fought a just war, a fair war. We did not target civilians. I'll save it because my son felt the need to hold on to it in the middle of a war; to bring it home. He knows. He knows that civilians died in Gaza, possibly by his own hands - certainly by his orders to fire. But every shot that he and his unit fired had a specific target. Not once did they simply release such devastating weaponry without thought as to where it would go.

Sometimes, they did it to destroy their weapons, their strongholds, their "army." And sometimes, they did it to protect our own. To help our boys get in or out under the cover of our artillery. In all cases, their targets were true, their aim proper. Civilians were warned - I have the proof and I will save it for my son.

What came out of this war: A sense of spiritual faith, strengthened and grateful.
Elie told me that during the war, hundreds of pairs of tzitzit - a four-cornered garment with strings that men are commanded to wear - were distributed. The army simply could not keep up with demand. Elie told me that five pairs of tefillin (phylacteries - a religious article that is tied to the arm and to the head during the prayers - typically in the morning, that contains parchment with words from the Torah), were donated to his unit and it was in constant use throughout the day. One boy who is not religious at all - put on tefillin every day of the war. These are the shields of Israel, a vital part of who we are and as our sons faced this war, they understood this.
From the most religious to the most secular - even perhaps those who say they don't believe - still prayed for the safety of our soldiers and our southern residents.

What came out of this war: A sense of pride in being a nation that cares about others...even if this is not recognized.

Throughout this war, we shipped in humanitarian aide to our enemies - name me a single other country in history that has done this. When other nations besiege, intentionally attempt to weaken the enemy by surrounding and cutting off their food and water supplies, Israel - even under fire, shipped in thousands of tons of humanitarian aide - food, water, medicines. We took our enemies into our hospitals and gave them better care than they would ever get in Gaza...because we invest tremendous resources in our medical equipment, personnel, technologies. Israel is at the forefront of research and development - because we care enough about ourselves and others.

What came out of this war: Men who were boys; men who had learned war.

I can't write about this because Elie doesn't really talk about it. It is too deep to explain to one's mother; too serious to talk about with someone who can't understand. I've never shot a bullet, let alone a cannon. I've heard the explosion - but only in training or over the phone. Elie heard these explosions thousands of times. More, Elie helped create these explosions. He knows exactly how many times his unit shot. He's brushed off, nicely but firmly, my attempts to get him to talk too much about this aspect. He'll tell me what he did - because there is no shame, none whatsoever. He knows what he shot at, and the results of this shooting. But he won't talk about himself or what he feels.

"Does the army have you talk to people?" I asked him, hoping he would open more about it.
"If someone wants to," he answered.

And again, my son was not in the war in the sense that he was not on the ground in Gaza. He can see the results of what they did - he knows of the destroyed buildings, the devastated neighborhoods and the need to rebuild. But he is at peace with all that he did, all that he was called upon to do because he knows that from these buildings his unit destroyed - his nation was attacked. From these devastated neighborhoods, Hamas choose to fire at Israel. When a vicious enemy hides among his people...how much of an obligation do you have to do all you can to avoid hitting the people? The answer is all that Israel did.

Some people left comments that my son was a murderer. Not even close. My son has never murdered anyone, though in this new reality that Hamas thrust upon us, there is a good possibility that my son killed. He knows this. He lives with it. Not with joy, but with determination. He came back from this war whole in body and in spirit.

There is a world of difference between killing and murdering. The commandment in the Bible says we are forbidden to murder. My son and the army of Israel did not violate this commandment. The Bible commands times that you must kill - the army of Israel killed. We killed those who would have killed us, murdered our innocents. And yes, it is likely that in hiding behind their wives and children and mothers, the Palestinians caused their deaths. If Israel killed Palestinian civilians, it is Hamas that murdered them.

And so, what came out of this war: with incredible gratitude to God, was my son and the boys from our neighborhood - and most of the sons of Israel. We lost sons there and many were injured and are still fighting for their lives. My youngest son explained to his little sister that this was a "milchemet mitzvah" - an obligatory war and that even a groom is commanded to leave his wedding ceremony to fight such a war.

This is what happened in this war. Aharon Karov is a soldier of Israel, a beloved son. On the Thursday night before Israel's ground forces entered Gaza, Aharon got married. A boy in Elie's unit asked to leave the unit to attend the wedding of his friend, but was denied. They needed him there, in Elie's unit, ready to fire, and so he missed his friend's wedding. Elie's soldier knew, Aharon knew, his new wife and his family knew that Aharon was likely to be called to fight in this war.

And that's what happened. Within hours after the ceremony, Aharon, a commander in the paratroopers, was called for a briefing. He was allowed to return to his new wife for the Sabbath and the celebrations for his wedding. But, in the early morning on Saturday, Aharon was called away from his new wife and went to war.

He entered Gaza with his men, as he had been trained and as he had trained them. As is the case in the Israeli army, he said, "Follow me," and the men followed. He fought with his men, led them on mission after mission. And then, three days after entering Gaza, Aharon led his men into a booby-trapped house in Gaza. Aharon (his full name for those who wish to pray for him is: Aharon Yehoshua ben [son of] Chaya Shoshana) was critically wounded.

He was evacuated by helicopter to Beilinson Hospital in Petach Tivkah, where he underwent six operations during the course of 12 hours: on his head, his eyes, ear-nose-throat, mouth and jaw, chest, and an orthopedic operation.

It is a story that has touched many in the world. Some with great pride - that such a young man would give of himself and join his men in war. Some in anger - how could you take a man from his new bride and send him to war? But Aharon's father answered that very question before his son was hurt - under the wedding canopy, surrounded by friends and family, knowing that soon his son would go to off to war.

Aharon's father, Rabbi Zev Karov said, “In the main wedding blessing, we say, ‘G-d sanctifies His nation Israel via the wedding canopy and betrothal.’ Why don’t we say that He sanctifies the bride and groom? We see that the personal building is a part of the national edifice. This is the main point, this is what we are brought up on, and now is the test when we show that it is not just talk, but it is how we really act.”

This, perhaps is the main lesson of the entire war for all of Israel and for the world. The Arabs have tested us time and again - they tested us again now. And each time we answer. It is how we act - the bravery to go to war, to fight a war, and to fight it as humanely as possible against an enemy that will hide behind its own children.

What came out of this war is an Israel that is much stronger than the one that went into Gaza a month ago. We are not stronger because our enemies are much weaker (though they are). We are stronger because we conducted ourselves according to "what we are brought up on."
With bravery, with courage, with fortitude, with compassion, with grace, with strength - Israel went to war. Hamas has claimed that they killed 1,583 of our soldiers. Hamas has claimed victory. Then again, Hamas claims we are the ones who are inhumane, the ones who aim at civilians. Hamas claims...and the world laughs at its lies.

The victory - if there can be victory in war, goes to Israel because, even in war, we continue to fight for peace. When the Arabs can claim the same - there will be peace here in the Middle East.

do brasil said...

2012-01-21T23:54:00.004+02:00

do brasil said...

How does it feel to live in a country hated by millions of people all over the world?
NOT because its a jewish country (as you would like to believe), but because of your country´s hatred, racism, war crimes and evil acts.
America, Africa, Europe, Asia, Australia...
How does it feel?

How does it feel to live in a country hated by millions of people all over the world? Well, not great but if you've been hated for hundreds...no, thousands...of years for all sorts of stupid reasons, you kind of accept that it isn't going to change and you also understand the base root of the hatred.

So, if the reason millions hate us is because our country is responsible for all you claim - you wanna explain why more than 6 million Jews were murdered by the Nazis - before the State of Israel was re-established in 1948? You wanna take a stab at explaining the Crusades, the Pogroms, the Spanish Inquisition?

How does it feel? It feels great to live in my own country and know, for the first time in 2,000 years, we are in control of our destiny. We know that we can protect our own. We know that if you hijack a plane and separate the Jews out, this time, the Israeli air force will fly in to save them, as they did in Entebbe.

We know that if you threaten your Jewish population, we will fly in and bring them home to Israel, as we did in Yemen and Ethiopia; we'll challenge dictators and tyrants, as we did with the Soviet Union, to release our people and give them refuge. We know if a Jew is lost in a horrible tsunami, Israel will send a team and while the team is there, they'll search for his body. We know if there is an earthquake in Turkey, Israel will be among the first to send in rescue teams and the Israeli team will send off a small group to dig in a building to find the Israelis.

We know that no matter where our people are - anywhere in the world, we will stand against the hatred that has lead to millions hating us, and we won't be fooled by rhetoric into thinking the cause is anything but what it has always been.

So how does it feel to accept who you are, where you live, and what your country must do to survive? How does it feel to finally be in control of your own destiny, to be free in your own land? To raise your children in the place where they belong? How does it feel to have sons and daughters who are proud of their country and choose to defend it...and more, have the option to choose life - for the first time in 2,000 years, and the power to make that option reality? Pretty darn good. Thanks for asking.

Lolo Said

2012-01-21T23:45:00.000+02:00

Lolo said...

You are such a coward! Why don´t you publish all comments?
Why are you so scared?
Hahaaha its so obvious that you don´t have any answers!
Your country, Israel, is EVIL.
And Israel is so small and tiny, that when the rest of the world decides to, you will be forced to behave human.

Hi Lolo. Thanks for leaving your name. It's a lot more fun to answer someone by name than have to score another Anonymous. I've answered why I don't publish all comments in my previous post. See The Thing About Comments.

I agree with basically one thing in what you wrote - Israel is so small and so tiny. I wonder, then, why you spend so much time and energy hating it so much. We are evil? Really...that's fascinating. Not Sudan, not Iran. Not Iraq or the Taliban. But Israel. We are evil? And what great evil did we do? Ah yes, details, details.

You will force us to "behave human"? Would that mean doing something like - oh, I don't know - sending help to Haiti's earthquake victims, saving Palestinian children who are ill and need operations? Would that mean sending doctors around the world to do heart surgery, eye surgery, and more?

How about these amazing inventions - all from Israel...the country you think is evil?

Revolutionary Israeli system takes the guesswork out of diagnosing and treating ADHD, depression, Alzheimer's and other brain-related diseases.
An Israeli-developed biodegradable 'balloon' separates tumors from healthy tissues, greatly reducing side effects of radiation therapy in prostrate cancer.
MD-Logic mimics the workings of the pancreas, monitoring blood sugar levels and delivering insulin automatically, even at night.
Israel's Greenlet system helps households and power companies monitor electricity usage and even power down certain appliances to avoid brownouts.
Nitrates in drinking water pose serious health problems, but a new low-tech solution from Israel is coming to the rescue.

This is a 5 minute search on amazing things Israel has contributed to the world - can you match it with any other country in the world? Your country? Certainly not any of the Arab countries I know of...and WE are the ones not contributing? Tiny little Israel?

It's obvious I don't have answers? Gee, I guess I missed the question because I believe I have spent the last four years answering so much about Israel and what we do here, how we live, and why, despite the terror attacks and the endless rocket attacks - we still try to search for peace.

But no matter - there are those who are so blinded by hatred they will never see the tremendous things Israel does. Feel free to comment again, Lolo - but this time, please do your research and offer some concrete examples of how you came to the absurd and erroneous concept that it is Israel that is the evil one.

As I said, tiny and small we may be - but we have given to the world well out of all proportion to our size.

The Thing About Comments is...

2012-01-21T21:10:00.001+02:00

See, this is my blog and I don't have to pass through your nasty comments. I really don't.

So, if your comment includes lies - I'm not going to put it through.

If your comment includes a link to propaganda - filled with lies and exaggerations - same deal. I don't owe you a platform - get your own blog.

If your comment includes an invitation to dialog, a question, etc. - I'll pass it through and either comment afterwards, or make a whole post out of it.

If you are dumb enough to start your comment by thinking you have the right to say this is my land or not, you're wrong. You can choose where to make your home - you can't choose where I make mine, or what right I have to live here.

If you are ignorant enough to begin by saying that we are targeting civilians and that is equivalent to the regular rocket fire against Israel, don't expect me to treat you seriously. Today, three more mortars were fired at Israel - at civilians, at our cities. You cannot consider yourself an intelligent, moral human being if you equate those attacks against the targeted elimination of a terrorist cell about to launch a rocket in the direction of one million people.

If you think that terror only happens when something explodes in front of you, you are wrong. Terror is the launching; terror is the threat. People who have to consider where they will run if in this second an alarm goes off - they live with terror and are terrorized. Palestinians do not live this way - unless they choose to live next to a Hamas Training Camp - and if they do, they deserve their fear. They endanger their lives and their children's lives. More than once, Israel has warned civilians to evacuate an area - and the civilians have gotten up...and surrounded the terrorist's house!

Finally, though it appears that I have ignored you thus far, if your comment supports my blog - yeah, I'm vain enough to smile and pass it through. I thank you for your support, for following, for commenting, for sharing. You have become an important part of my life and I love touching and being touched by your support. I am so grateful for all of you.

Those are the rules. If you like them - great, please keep reading and please do keep commenting because I really, really want to hear what you have to say - when you can say it nicely and with honesty. Shavua tov - may it be a good week for all of us.

In the meantime, here's a response for Lolo and da brasil.

When the War Ended - the Last Look Back

2012-01-20T10:15:00.000+02:00

I don't know the official day that Israel considered the Gaza War to be over. For me, it ended on January 21, 2009 - when I drove down and brought Elie home. It was a roller coaster at the end, a race against time, to see if he would be home for his brother's bar mitzvah or not. He was already working on his side to, at least, get a pass to come home for part of it. In the end, he came home the day before. A final post, if you will, when he told me (on January 20, 2009), "I'll tell you tomorrow, when I see you...."

I'll tell you tomorrow, when I see you...

For those of you who have followed this journey...at least in the last few weeks, I'm sure you can imagine how incredibly sweet those words sounded to me. I spoke to Elie this afternoon and for the first time in almost a month, our conversation was relaxed. He has nothing to do. They are waiting there, hoping that the ceasefire will last...forever.

They are ready to fire - if fired upon. They don't expect to be, but they are ready. They are also very ready to come home - to sleep in comfortable beds, eat and dress and just be normal. But not yet. Slowly, troops are returning home. I am not part of the upper circles where they decide on the order of standing down from a war. Elie's unit remains, though many soldiers have already returned home to their families, their jobs, their lives. In some ways, this waiting period is harder than others. They want to finish and be finished.

We talked about what would have been, if they hadn't been called to war. They were to have gone for training. "Guess you had enough training, right?" I asked Elie.
"and then some," he answered.

He told me they might give them a week off, as they were planning to do before the war. They might cancel the unit's vacation - a week where they take the whole group somewhere to relax. There isn't much time yet before the next rotation and anyway, they all just want to go home. Nearly as much as we want them home.

"Guess what I ate for lunch?" he said at one point.

OK, that's going to be a bit hard. It had to be something really good...or really bad. But which? Hoping it was something good, I asked "what did you eat?"

"Steak and hamburgers." OK, that's about at the top of Elie's food chain. And then he explained.

One of the father's of a boy in his unit came with a huge truck, a huge refrigerator compartment filled with meat - and made a barbecue for the guys.

"How much weight have you gained in this war?" I asked him and heard him laugh. You can't imagine how wonderful that sounds.

There were several times he started to say something and stopped. No, he can't tell me when his unit will move, where it will go. He can't tell me so many things. We talked a little bit about the rocket fire. Several times they were ordered to quickly take cover.

He told me that his unit is located in a field, and today, for the first time, he saw in the distance that the farmer was beginning to reclaim his land from the army; watering the fields that were open to him. "He can't even come here," Elie explained. "This area is a closed military zone."
I told him about the broadcasts - how in the middle of a discussion, a different announcer would suddenly start talking "on top" of the other voices, "Alert in Beersheva. In Beersheva, an alert. An alert, in Sderot and Ashkelon. Alert in Sderot and Ashkelon. In Ashkelon and Sderot, an alert."

I told him how I would start to pray each time I heard those words - "let it land in an open field and not in the city; let it land in an open field," knowing that even as I was thinking those words, the rocket had already landed. And then, I explained to my son, "then I realized YOU were in an open field. Then I started praying for it to land in the city," I joked and again he laughed.
We talked about his little sister, and the "trauma" of the false alarm here. "Ima, do you know how many times I heard the siren?" he asked. No, I don't know and I'm not sure I want to know.

"Did anything hit near you?" God, I don't want to know the answer to that one. Please, please say no.

"No," he answered. Thank you, God, for that!

He started to say something else, but again stopped. "I'll tell you tomorrow, when I see you," he explained and it sounded so good.

This evening for the first time in weeks, I mixed a batch of tuna-corn fritters. My mother made them when we were little; my sister makes them for her kids; I make them for mine. It doesn't beat steak and hamburgers, but it is something that Elie loves. Actually, I wouldn't be at all surprised someday to hear from Elie that he only eats them and pretends to like them because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings...but he, like the rest of my kids, do seem to love them.

So, I made a batch for dinner tonight and will take several with me to give to Elie during the ride home. He can only leave with the other commander gets back. That commander lives along the route where I'll be traveling to get to Elie, "do you want to ask him if he wants a ride? I can pick him up and bring him straight to where you are so he doesn't have to take any buses."

"I'll check," Elie said. A few hours later, I spoke to Elie again. "No, you don't have to get him," he said. "His father is driving him down."

That made me feel good. Like the father who drove down and made a barbecue for Elie's unit, like the father who will drive his son down tomorrow, like my friends here who went this evening to visit their son who was in Gaza and returned, we all need to see, to hug, to talk.

Many years ago, I wanted to help the Israeli army better explain why and how it does what it does. The army website was not well written and lead to misunderstandings and so I worked with a team of people to help improve the quality of the English on the site. After many months and considerable improvement, we decided the group of people would "stand down."

I liked the term and the concept. You step up to a crisis, you meet it, you deal. I'm not sure I dealt with this war nearly as well as I should have. Many friends (whose sons were in more danger than Elie) handled the war with faith and grace. I don't think I handled it with either. In some ways, that was good. It let you - those of you outside Israel - see the very real picture of how much we as a society love our sons and how much they love our country.

In some ways, I think I am standing down now. I will continue to write on the blog but it goes back to what it was a month ago, a place to share stories about life in Israel, especially those connected to having a son in the army. For now, though I have little faith this ceasefire will last beyond Hamas' ability to rearm, for now, we will sleep; for now, we will enjoy life and go back to whatever passes for normal in this country.

I thought to make a separate post about this, but I'll include it here. Today, Hamas boasted that they had killed 1,583 Israeli soldiers in this war. Miraculously, according to them - they managed to kill over 700 in a single day. If I had to explain the difference between their society and ours, I could not have done it better than they did themselves. There are no celebrations in Israel today; no great triumphant rallies. We do not celebrate the deaths in Gaza; we regret more than words can express, that Hamas brought this war down on the heads of our people and their own.

It would never occur to us to boast over the numbers of people who died in Gaza...not even those caught with guns and rocket launchers. What the Palestinians refuse to understand is that there are no winners in a war and so they lost, and so did we. There are orphans on both sides of the fence near Gaza, millions of dollars in lost earnings and damaged property. Tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of traumatized children.

What did we gain? In a very real sense, what Israel gained was probably several months of quiet before the next round. Again my youngest daughter told me about the moment when the siren went off. This is a child who remembers everything, and yet, almost every day, she keeps telling me the story as if I had not heard it. "There was a rocket attack in Beersheva," she said to me today.

"When?" I asked. Today, like yesterday, was quiet.

"A long time ago," she said.

Tomorrow, Elie will come home. "How are you?" I asked him and got his usual answer.

"Fine."

He does sound fine, but I'll know for sure tomorrow, when I see him and finally have a chance to really listen. When I see him tomorrow...

One Day...and Today is Good

2012-01-19T08:59:00.001+02:00

Do you read the last page of a book before you finish the rest? Does it spoil the surprise? Take away the suspense? The end of the story is that Elie came home safely from a war forced upon Israel by a terrorist organization duly elected by the people of Gaza. In the months and weeks before Israel went into Gaza in December, 2008, hundreds of rockets were being fired at Israel. Sometimes, they hit homes, schools, malls - people...babies, young children, mothers. When an Arab argues with you, he will ask you how many people have been killed by these rockets. It is their standard line - that and calling them "home-made" as if they are cookies or pretty little drawings by children.

If I steal your car for a day, but return it at night - is that okay...because, after all, I returned it? If I throw rocks at your home in the middle of the night and you wake in terror and your baby starts to cry...but I missed the window - is that okay...because, after all, I didn't actually damage the building? These are easy questions, aren't they? I have no right to take your car; no right to throw rocks at your home. Why then do the Palestinians have the right to shoot artillery at our cities - because that is what these missiles are - artillery.

So, after a month were 60 rockets were fired in a single day, hundreds over a period of a few weeks...Israel did what any normal nation would do. We went to war. My son went to war. It was a strange time. Living near Jerusalem - our lives were "normal." The sun was shining in the morning; the traffic was a bit heavier than "normal." Stop, I wanted to scream at people...just stop walking in the streets, eating in the restaurants, talking to that person on the bus. Stop! Elie is there, don't you understand? A million people are under fire. Stop!

But the world didn't stop, the bus kept driving, the next person stepped forward to order food. And all the time, I watched the calender. My youngest son's bar mitzvah was coming and I wanted Elie home. Almost to the last minute, we didn't know if he would make it.

Two days before the bar mitzvah at the Western Wall, I began to believe Elie would make it home for at least part of the celebration. One day....I wrote, and today is good. Here's the post from that day - three years ago. I've used the same title - because it is, I believe, a way of life - take today, just today, and make it a good one.

One Day...and Today is Good - January 19, 2009

I spoke to Elie on Sunday and asked him if he would be able to come to his brother's "aliyah to the Torah" on Thursday at the Western Wall. We will gather, our friends and family, and watch David recite the blessing over the Torah, and read its wise words. When Davidi finishes, we will throw candies, wishing him only sweet things in life.

His friends will be there; it will be the first of many special moments that we will celebrate over the next few days. We celebrate the moment in his life when all things change; when he stands on his own. We, his parents, will now stand beside him and behind him; no longer in front of him, in the heavenly courts.

What he does, is his responsibility. It is the first step he takes on the road to becoming the man he will be. Till now, what he failed to do was my fault, as his mother; our fault, as his parents. Soon, it will be his choices that matter; his decisions and actions that determine his future.

We will gather no matter what, though the question that has hung over us as a family for the last few weeks is who is "we"? Will Elie be there? Elie was the first of my sons to experience this moment; to teach me what it means to have a son cross the threshold to manhood. Friends have told me that I have to be prepared, in case he can't be there. I have to practice laughing and smiling on the outside, while I cry inside. I want to scream that I can't; even as I know that I will.

David deserves his celebration, no matter what it costs us all emotionally. It is part of what we do as Israelis and Jews. We choose life and the celebration of this important moment in my son's life demands that there be no tears, at least none like the ones I have shed in the last month.

Last week, when we talked about it, Elie said he didn't know if he could get out of the army. Yesterday, Elie told me he would only know in a few days. He didn't want to ask, as there was no way there would be an answer.

I took David shopping yesterday, wondering if Elie would be there. Should I buy Elie a new shirt or would that jinx the chances of his coming. Silly to think that way. It's the situation in the country and the war zone that will determine whether Elie will be there. I didn't buy him a new shirt. I couldn't.

So many times I have imagined our family meeting at the Western Wall. So many of my friends are coming, already telling me that they are giving us their love and support. I want Elie there. Could I stand it if he wasn't? How could I smile and be happy if my heart is breaking inside at the thought of his missing this moment with his family?

When they started giving some of the boys in his unit short leaves to go home and see their families, it was Elie's idea to offer to stay, with the hope that he could claim his "leave" to coincide with his brother's bar mitzvah. My older daughter suggested I tell Elie to do this. "How can I tell him to stay in a war zone?" I asked her. I can't.

If he can come home safely now, even at the cost of missing the bar mitzvah, I'll take what I can. Saturday night they declared a ceasefire - at least a unilateral one. We would cease firing. Hamas fired a dozen more rockets into Israel. Then, yesterday afternoon, Hamas and other groups declared they would agree to withhold firing for 7 days. What does this mean for our people living down there? For children who have missed so much school, for businesses who have lost so much money...and for Elie, who hasn't been home in so many weeks.

The clock is ticking down. I have so many things to do for this celebration and at any moment, I am overwhelmed with the simple task of just realizing that, for now, this war is over. Hamas has already announced that they are rearming. This is a temporary lull, as there have been so many others. But for children starved for sunshine in Sderot andAshkelon, for mothers who want to hang their laundry outside and watch the children play, it is enough. They will worry about tomorrow or the next day later.

For now, they are very much like children first testing the vast ocean water at a beach. Slowly, they'll put a foot out the door and they'll listen for the sirens. So far today, it is holding. No rockets have fallen; no one has entered a bomb shelter in fear. Schools and universities are opening and Israel is, once again, sending humanitarian and medical aide to Gaza.

Today is Monday. Elie called to tell me that they have given him permission to take any 24 hours he wants. He'll come home Wednesday and join us on Thursday morning before heading back to the "war zone". We do not yet know if he can come for the weekend celebration. But today I know that he will probably be there on Thursday; that I'll probably see him in just two days.
I want to sit and talk with him for hours, but I don't know if we will have the chance. I have to share him with the others; his aunt who has arrived from America to visit with him and his extended family here in Israel. His little sister, who needs to talk to him and see that he is fine. She'll probably tell him all about the frightening siren she heard; so innocently unaware of all that he has experienced. What is a false siren compared to huge explosions and repeated rocket attacks? Nothing...and everything, for a child. That's the way it is with children. She will never think to ask him what it was like to experience war, if he was afraid. She won't ask him about where he slept or showered or what food he had to eat.

She will not think of Gazan resident Ali Hassan, who was quoted today as saying, "Once we have a missile that can reach the heart of Tel Aviv and blow up a building, maybe they [Hamas] can resume fire." She will not know, at least not now, that Hamas is re-arming itself and another round will come again.

All she will know is that Elie is home to join us, as she believes it is our right, for our family celebration. She will take it as a given.

A few days ago, when my son asked if his brother would be home and I answered that there was a possibility that he would not, my youngest daughter told me that I should "tell them" about the bar mitzvah. He is her brother and at her age, she still knows best to focus on her needs. There are moments when she'll see I'm upset and come give me a hug. She too is going through a transition, a stage where the "me" slowly begins turning into the "we," but she isn't really there yet.

Tonight, when I go home from work, I will tell her that Elie will be coming home in just two days. She won't think of the soldiers who won't ever return home, and I am selfish enough to want her to stay young and unaware as long as she can.

So far, we know that Elie will join us for at least part of our family celebration. It is not enough, just enough, and more than enough.

What you can't solve up close...

2012-01-18T21:36:00.002+02:00

The more things change...the more they remain the same. Today is January 18th - 18 days since the world welcomed 2012 and said goodbye to 2011. In those 18 days, Gaza has fired FIVE rockets at Israel.

A post from three years ago - and something to think about as the US enters election year.

What you can't solve up close... January 16, 2009

...you probably can't solve from thousands of miles away either. That's a lesson every US president for the last 60 years has learned and yet, somehow never manage to pass on to the new incoming president.

Last week, the United Nations voted for a ceasefire. Good for them! I'm glad they've decided to stop firing; now back to Gaza.

This week, Barack Obama is getting ready to step into the fray. Unfortunately, as soon as he steps in, his feet are likely to get as dirty as if he went to visit George W. Bush's ranch and went a'walking in the cow fields. What each president fails to understand, what seems so obvious to Israelis, is that you cannot make peace until BOTH sides want it.

Israel has offered. Israel has compromised. Israel withdrew its people from Gaza years ago. It was a heart-wrenching, difficult, and ultimately wrong unilateral move because, as so many of us predicted, all it did was give the rocket launchers a better position from which to launch their missiles. Hebrew is not a language spoken or know by many around the world, and yet all know the one simple word for peace, "Shalom." In your language does "peace" also mean "hello" and "goodbye"? It does in mine. Not totally - we say "Allo?" when we answer the telephone, but when we meet people and then when we part from their company, we say "shalom." We greet them and leave them with the single wish for peace.

Jerusalem (see the "salem" part?) - means City of Peace. It is part of our prayers and our culture and our daily yearning. Weekly, we wish each other - Shabbat shalom - the peace of the Sabbath. Peace is part of who we are as much as what we strive to achieve. We accepted the partition of our land in 1947 because peace was better than war...it was the Arabs, then and every day since, for the last 62 years, that has chosen war, rejected peace. We are not the obstacles to peace in the Middle East.

Compare our culture, the rhetoric of our leaders, to that of the Palestinians. You will never find an Israeli leader say about our culture what Hassan Nasrallah says about his own,

"We have discovered how to hit the Jews where they are the most vulnerable. The Jews love life, so that is what we shall take away from them. We are going to win, because they love life and we love death."

From the head of Hizbollah himself, we hear the truth of his people...and ours. Until Barack Obama learns this truth, he is as likely to fail, as likely to step into something really foul smelling, as did his predecessors. There are things in life that nations and people cannot do alone.

You can't tango alone. You can't play Poker alone, and you can't make peace with your enemies until your enemies are at least open to the possibility that they will have to live with you in the peace they too must believe is best for their people.

Recipes...recipes...Lauren's Challah and a Twist

2012-01-18T19:18:00.000+02:00

I've been asked to post some recipes - so first let me explain that when I cook...oy, do I cook. I have the recipe - I'll post it...but take my word for this - you are going to want to scale this down. The recipe makes about 12 medium size loaves of bread...Lauren gave me the recipe and I changed it a bit...so here's the adapted version. Understand that I'm really bad at measuring...so I'll do my best.

Ingredients

1 package of yeast
some sugar (yeah, I know....like maybe 3 tablespoons...a bit more?)
2 cups of warm water - not hot!!!! not cold...

Mix this together and drive Aliza to school (okay, that translates to letting it sit for about 10 minutes till the yeast is kind of foamy). Pour into the yeast mixture:

2.5 kilos (that's like about 16 cups of flour, maybe a bit more) - I use the 70% whole wheat; or 1.5 packages of whole wheat and 1 package of white flour
1 cup of sugar (I know, I know..)
1 cup of honey (you want to taste amazing bread...add the honey)
1 cup of oil (I use canola)
6 eggs
3 cups of warm water
2 TABLESPOONS of salt (don't put in less, seriously)

Now, you mix this all until it's a dough - typically, I end up adding more flour until you get to around 3 kilo or about 20 cups of flour - but you can play with the water and the flour till it's a nice dough.

Knead it for a while - let it rise; punch it down; let it rise. (I cover it while it rises...don't ask me why.) If you can put the dough in a warm place, it will rise faster.
Shape it and let it rise again.
Paint beaten egg over the top - this helps it get that golden color; I sprinkle Zatar (hyssop)(http://tinyurl.com/6rema6v) on the bread before baking; or sometimes I saute onions and put some on before baking.

I put a tray of water in the oven - that usually helps make the bread lighter.

You bake it for about 25 minutes - at 170 C - around 350 F - until it is golden brown - make sure the bottom is brown as well.

As for the shaping - you can do all sorts of things with this dough. My favorite is the four-braid. Aliza makes an amazing 8-braid loaf. Enjoy and please do let me know what you think, how it comes out!

When I wanted to learn how to braid the challah with four strands, I looked on YouTube - I was hoping to post a simple example here - but I can't find the one I first watched and these are honestly confusing. Anyway, find one you like - and go for it. Happy baking!

That Damn Roller-coaster

2012-01-17T22:49:00.002+02:00

If you've been following this blog for a while, you'll know that somewhere during Elie's service, I hit on the idea that having children in the army was like being on a roller-coaster. You're cruising along, feeling fine...and then without warning, the bottom drops out and you're falling in terror. Sometimes, you know the fall is going to come, and still it is bad. Sometimes, you don't have a clue - and worse, you even think things are fine.

No, nothing serious - everyone is fine, but I felt like I was a bit on the roller-coaster this morning as I drove into Jerusalem with Shmulik. Chalk it up to not enough sleep because I was working late...chalk it up to fate. I don't even remember how the conversation started.

Last night, Shmulik was on the job. He and Elie are both working as security guards for a local company. There are two in Maale Adumim - the one they work for is the smaller company. The larger one won the bid for managing the city entrances and the schools, while Elie and Shmulik's company handles several places inside the city. In the last few weeks, three security guards have been attacked by Arabs in Maale Adumim. It took me too much time and not a little bit of panic to get through Shmulik's explanation to understand we were talking about guards on the outer perimeters.

Three times, Arabs have come up and as they approached, drawn a knife to stab the guards. The first time, the guard was stabbed in the neck, but only lightly wounded. The Arab ran off but apparently was later caught. The second time, another Arab was dumb enough to attack a guard who is a champion in martial arts. In seconds, as Shmulik explained, the guard had the Arab face down in the dirt, arrested - no casualties.

Last night, Shmulik was on the job when an Arab approached the city perimeter again. This time, he succeeded in stabbing the guard in the stomach - moderately wounding him. When the head of the security company got the call, he ordered Shmulik out into the streets in front of the mall.

This is when I sort of lost it - "Why?" I asked him, "the Arabs were going for the security guards and he puts you out there?" Yeah, it sounds kind of dumb and I realized it but I wasn't quite finished obsessing about it. "He should have put the old women on the street and put the security guards safe in a room."

Laughter and smiles...and a bit of panic. A few minutes later it penetrated that we weren't talking about an attack INSIDE the city, but rather on the outskirts and Shmulik was placed there to watch and make sure shoppers in the mall were safe in case the attacker had come into the city.

Still feels like a roller-coaster to me.

3:00 a.m. - quiet.....

2012-01-17T03:25:00.001+02:00

It's 3:00 a.m. and I'm ready to go to sleep after finishing off work for three different clients. What a day...ended up with having to take my husband to the doctor and lost hours of work but he couldn't go alone. Things are stable there and that's what counts.

The house is sleeping - Coco the loud bird is asleep on his perch; Simba asleep in his bed. Elie went to a wedding of a friend tonight and Lauren went with him; he's on call for the ambulance tonight and so Lauren, also a trained medic, came to sleep over and should there be a call, they'll both go running. So far, thankfully, there have been no calls.

A few days ago, as we were driving home; I saw a girl sitting, stretched out on the sidewalk and as the car passed her location, I could see she was in pain. I told Elie to stop and see what had happened. It was interesting to watch.

Elie and Lauren both got out. This is a religious neighborhood and what had happened was that one teenage girl had fallen and hurt her arm and was shaky; her friend was trying to help her. Lauren stepped right in; Elie crouched nearby but let Lauren take the lead. They spoke to her for a few minutes; checked her arm, her pulse and agreed that she should go have the arm checked out. It would be cheaper for her to go on her own than call an ambulance and there was little more they were likely to do for her beyond the sling that Lauren tied on for her.

Elie leaned forward to help her stand; the rest was simple and we were on our way. In the meantime, tonight I found out that Davidi had passed his test after about 60 hours of training - he's now cleared to become a volunteer on the local ambulance squad...as Amira once did, as Elie still does, as Shmulik once did, as Lauren and Chaim still do. It is such an amazing thing to learn, to contribute, to do.

I'm so proud of all of them. Davidi gave up his entire Hanukka vacation to go every day to the course and sit there learning about how the human body operates and how he can help identify and fix things. He came home and would ask Lauren and Elie questions. At one point, he explained that a different instructor came in to teach them one section.

The new instructor began to explain that in Israel, ambulances also take care of animals...and that at least five questions on the test would be on what he was about to cover - and they had to get at least three of them correct. The young teenagers - most like Davidi around 15 years old...began taking notes frantically.

This is how you save a choking snake, he began...and they all wrote it down.

This is how you give a cesarean to a turtle...and they wrote it down.

By the time they were on the third animal...finally, the teenagers began to wonder. One asked, "are you being serious?"

At which point, the first instructor and the second instructor began laughing uncontrollably. The other instructor knew she would not be able to deliver this joke without laughing and so the substitute came in and for 30 minutes they had these kids going. Lauren laughed so hard when she heard the explanations. Apparently, this is a known part of these courses - she teaches about hamster treatment, but thinks she'll borrow the snake idea for her next class. These are 15 and 16 year old kids who have given up their vacation to learn very serious things about how to help in times of emergency - it's a way, perhaps, to remind them that there are things in life you still need to laugh about, smile about. It's so brilliant, so perfect, so Israeli.

What an incredible gift these young people bring to our country...but what an incredible gift they receive. They learn how to handle a crisis calmly, to ask the right questions, and help. I've seen Elie time and time again, calmly step into a situation; Lauren has infinite patience and was so gentle with the young woman - as she is when Aliza gets frustrated and tired.

So - it's 3:15 and I've relaxed enough to go to sleep. May it be a quiet night for Elie and Lauren...and all of our city and our country. And as I do each night before I go to sleep - I take a deep breath and check to see if rockets were being fired at our cities.

It seems it is quiet there as well. Today, rocks were thrown again at an Israeli bus and a car - no injuries reported though there were some frightening moments as the windows shattered. And two young Arabs were caught at a checkpoint with ammunition and pipe bombs. They confessed that they had hoped to get into the courtroom where the second of the Awad cousins was being sentenced for his part in the brutal murders of the Fogel family in Itamar. Five life sentences - 132 years.

And even that is not enough. But for now, I'll be happy that some measure of justice was given today and hope for the Israeli government to be smart enough never to release these two killers. And lest I sadden myself enough to block sleep, I'll return to the wonderful news that it is 3:20 in the morning and my babies are all safe and asleep.

My oldest baby sleeps with her sweet and wonderful husband and her amazingly amazing baby; my second baby sleeps in his room, his fiancee asleep in his baby sister's room. My third baby sleeps in the apartment below our house with his beautiful wife. My fourth baby passed his test and will now go out on ambulances to help others and tonight he is asleep in his room. And my youngest baby will soon turn 12 and celebrate her bat mitzvah...she sleeps in peace and with less fear than she has had in many months.

May God watch over my children and bless them with health, with safety, with love, with joy.

Shabbat Shalom...

2012-01-13T12:33:00.000+02:00

I've got no time to write and truthfully, with something burning in my stomach, if I wrote, it wouldn't be good so I'll let it sit a while and figure if words will do justice to the injustice of others, of what a place of worship should be but all too often is not.

For now, I'll tell you that the soup is cooking, the sweet challah dough is rising. I have the heat on so the house is warm. It's gray and raining outside and I love it. So cold, so winter, so rare. It's family this weekend, quiet. Elie and Lauren cut tons of vegetables for the soup and left me instructions what to do with it this morning.

I've made three quiches (broccoli, mushroom, and corn) and soon a non-meat lasagna will go in. Today is Aliza's 12th birthday on the English calendar so I'm going to make her a case as well. The real celebration will take place in a few weeks, on her Hebrew birthday (or near it anyway).

What peace you find on a day like today comes from within the home. Yesterday and this morning, rockets were again fired at Israel; I continue to receive messages of hate. One came yesterday which I put through, insisting the Ahmadinejad didn't say he wanted to wipe Israel off the face of the earth. It was a play on words - instead of using the name "Israel" - he called us the "occupiers of Jerusalem" - well, duh - takes a brain and a map to figure out who he is talking about.

And then last night on Twitter a former Lebanese Prime Minister told his 79,000 followers that he had, apparently, accidentally greeted an Israeli and he was certainly sorry. If he had know, he never would have spoken to him.

How silly, how immature. How incredibly filled with hatred. How clear it is that the Arabs do not want peace. They can't even stomach speaking to an Israeli by accident. "Israel is our enemy" - I have not heard such truth from an Arab leader in a long time. Yes, Israel is your enemy. It isn't a great message to hear for those who want peace. It is a sad message, a dismal one.

And yet, like the rain, a message is what you make of it. Not all the time, but sometimes. The rain can be seen as dismal, terrible, messy and cold. Or each drop can be seen as a blessing. That's how it is here in Israel. We'll greet each other with, "it's supposed to be rainy and miserable, thank God."

I think it's the same here. There is truth in what this idiot admits on Twitter. He's clearly not intelligent enough to be diplomatic and I am grateful. Our greatest enemies are those who speak words that are lies; this one - this former Prime Minister of Lebanon is only a minor enemy - he lives in a country that is divided itself, abusive to its local Christian population, frantic that the Palestinian population will turn on it and try to take over, as they have in the past.

Hezbollah is likely to pull them into another war soon and just a few weeks ago, a Lebanese woman was seriously hurt when a rocket they fired towards Israel landed in a Lebanese village close to the border.

But that is all outside - for this cold and rainy Shabbat, my heart and soul are full. My children are all close, safe, warm - or they will be soon. The challah needs to be shaped and baked; the house filled with the smell of freshly baked bread.

Shabbat shalom.

Sometimes, I Just Crack Myself Up...

2012-01-08T21:51:00.000+02:00

I'm still on my reading-the-blog-from-the-war journey...and I found this:

What you can't solve up close...

...you probably can't solve from thousands of miles away either. That's a lesson every US president for the last 60 years has learned and yet, somehow never manage to pass on to the new incoming president.

Last week, the United Nations voted for a ceasefire. Good for them! I'm glad they've decided to stop firing; now back to Gaza.

Yeah, sometimes I really crack myself up :-)

What Schools Should Be...3 years later

2012-01-08T20:26:00.000+02:00

On January 6, 2009, I wrote about what schools should be. I wrote about Israel hitting a school - to this day, the basic difference in what we target versus what they target continues to be ignored. We have never targeted a school (and yes, we have targeted mosques - those being used to hide explosives). When we target a building - even one known to have explosives, we do our best to avoid casualties. We warned the local population with millions of fliers dropped from the planes - move away, the fliers warned. This place is being used as an arsenal and we are going to destroy it. Time after time, Palestinians gathered to protect their weapons with their lives.

And still, Israel did what it could to avoid injuries. A school should be...so much more than the Palestinians allow it to be. Three years ago...and three years later, so little has changed.

What School Should Be... (reprinted from January 6, 2009)

My youngest children went to school today. Thousands of children in Israel did not. Some of their schools are protected, reinforced against missiles. That's the result of more than 8 years of ongoing missile attacks. Though my children's school isn't protected from a potential missile attack, it does have a bomb shelter; it does have a high fence circling it to prevent terrorists from entering (even more, perhaps than preventing children from straying off), and it has a guard that watches as children enter and exit.

In the last few days, the police must have decided that all this was not enough, and so they have stationed police near each of the schools, armed and watching. Our children are our lives, our most precious treasures. Whatever it takes to keep them safe, will be done. That is the message Israel has sent to its citizens.

Several times over the past few years, our schools in the south have been hit by rockets. Last week, two schools and a kindergarten were hit. Thankfully, no one was hurt because our country deemed it too dangerous to allow our children to continue their studies, lest a missile hit there. Of course, it would have been nice if our government and the world stopped the missiles, but if they haven't accomplished that yet, at least they were honest enough to tell parents to keep their children home. The priority has always been the lives of our children.

A few years ago, a young boy, only 4-years-old, was walking to nursery school with his mother when a rocket crashed and exploded next to them, just as they entered the school yard. Little Afik was killed, his mother seriously wounded. Afik's parents had tried for years to have children and only after many many years of treatments, were they finally blessed with a beautiful baby boy...and then, on one horrible day, they lost their only child, Afik.

Rather than risk that and other tragedies, Israel has suspended school everywhere within 40 kilometers of Gaza. They did this because a school should be a place where children learn and play. Where there is light and knowledge. Most of all, it should be a place where children are safe, where they can grow and expand their knowledge in a protected environment. Today, in Gaza, a school was hit by an Israeli missile. The Palestinians claim dozens have died. It's a horrible thing, a terrible tragedy, every parent's nightmare.

Except...

Except that Israel's initial inquiry into the incident, showed that the missile didn't hit the "school" by mistake. The target was true; the aim was accurate. In August, last year, Israel filed a formal complaint with the United Nations, complaining about the school being used to fire against Israel. Israel has already identified Hamas gunmen who were killed at the scene of the attack - even publicized their names.

The proof that the building was a legitimate target was found, once again, in the secondary explosions that occurred. The missile hit the building, causing explosives inside the building to detonate. You can watch these and other videos on the web. You'll see the initial explosion, and then, mere seconds later, multiple explosions and objects shooting high into the air.

If you hit a building that has no explosives, the building collapses and the only thing that rises into the air is dust and rubble. Nothing explodes - again, see all the videos of houses hit in Sderot, Ashkelon, Ashdod, Beersheva. As horrible as it sounds, as tragic as the results are, the missile was accurate. It hit its target and did what it was supposed to do. Secondary explosions prove that the building was used to store rockets.

What it comes down to is a building from which mortars were shot, in which explosives were stored, and in which, Palestinians chose to teach their young. There is something incredibly sick about that.

There are rules in warfare and in life.

One rule: A civilized people should not target innocent civilians. This is what Hamas repeatedly has done for the last 8 years. This is NOT what Israel did today.

Second rule: An innocent civilian should not protect a terrorist location. If you are in a training camp - leave. If you are near a rocket launching site - run, and if you are sending your children to a school where rockets are stored and missiles and mortars are launched, be smart and stop sending your child because the government against whom those rockets and mortars are being shot, has the right to defend itself. School is important, but as Israel has shown in the last few days by canceling lessons, nothing is as important as life.

And there is an even more sinister issue here lurking under the surface of this story, one that I hope will come to light in the next few days. The United Nations and its involvement in Gaza is one that is as suspect as its involvement in Lebanon was years ago. Too often, they are "at the scene" and too often, they allow their "sanctuaries" to by used by terrorists who attack Israel. Their ambulances have been used by gunmen, and their school to be used as a launching ground for mortars.

Today Israel hit a target - a legitimate target used to launch mortars against our people. If, in addition to shooting mortars, that building was also used for classes, that doesn't make it a school. A school should be a place of knowledge and growth. A school should be a place of safety and it seems rather obvious to me that a missile launching pad isn't a safe environment, and therefore, no matter what the United Nations calls that building in Gaza, it was not a school.

A school cannot be a place for mortars...and a place with mortars cannot be a school. Golda Meir once said that there would be peace when the Arabs love their children more than they hate us.

Decades after she said that, generations have come and gone, and still that day has not arrived.

A Sabbath in the Making

2012-01-06T08:26:00.002+02:00

Life has a way of happening. Three years ago, I dreaded the Sabbath coming. It meant radio-silence and 25 hours of not knowing what was happening to Elie, to the south, in Gaza. It was agony disconnecting from the phone, from the computer knowing that the Arabs would continue to fire rockets, that the battle would continue, perhaps even intensify.

Since that time, since the war ended, closing down means that much more to me. When I can gather my children near me, I am most happy. Even when they aren't here, the peace comes to my home with the lighting of the candles.

It's 8:05 a.m. here in Israel. I had an exhausting but fruitful week with work - new clients, new appointments, new projects, a new class starting on Sunday with a really wonderful new group of students. A new challenge - a remote class starting as well, and more students there. I got home last night and crashed. My body needs the sleep it was denied all week and, conversely, is unable to sleep for very long periods of time. I was up by 5:30 a.m. So here I sit, the challah is rising in one corner of the kitchen, near the burners where the soup is cooking.

I still have more to make, but it's quiet; it's peaceful. I have so much to do on so many fronts but the one inevitable and wonderful fact on a Friday is that the clock ticks down to a time when I'll put it all aside. The house is filling with the smells of Shabbat. My oldest daughter is bringing in the Shabbat in the home she has built with her husband and now her baby. Tonight, Shmulik will be eating with Naama in the home they are building, and will come share lunch with us tomorrow. Elie and Lauren are spending Shabbat together in Jerusalem with friends. In some ways, it is a prelude to the home and the Shabbatot (Sabbaths) they will make after their wedding.

I honestly don't know how others live without this day in their lives. I once had a secular friend tell me that I was so lucky I had Shabbat. I was astounded. She could have it too, I thought. But the truth is that only that which you save, do you have. Only that which you guard, remains yours. In Hebrew we say, "l'shmor" on the Sabbath - to guard it. If someone is observant, they are called "shomer shabbat" - one who guards the Sabbath. In guarding it, in keeping it, you keep it holy and you keep it yours.

It is a double prize, a two-edge sword. If you think it restrictive, and at times it is, you have to understand that this very element is, in part, what makes it so incredible. Those who feel they can choose to follow or not, as the whim comes, end up letting it go too often. Life, they will tell you, forces their hand and they lose something precious. By believing fully that the choice to keep Shabbat isn't a choice at all, you know that it is always there, always coming.

I grew up not religious. I once arrogantly asked my brother-in-law if he could open a light on Shabbat. When he answered that he could not, I responded that I could, but chose not to - as if that was in some way superior. He smiled a bit as he thought about it and then asked, "but can you really?" He was right - after years of choosing to keep the Sabbath, it had become as ingrained in me as if I had been born to it. I know longer think I can turn a light on; I no longer believe it is my choice.

And, amazingly enough, I am happier for that decision. Shabbat will come today, in a few hours, and I'll close the computer, shut the phone. I won't go driving, won't even think about work. I'll sleep, I'll eat with friends and family. I'll walk in this beautiful city, in this beautiful land.

There are those who believe that peace will never come to this land. In some ways, I am among this group. I do not believe the Palestinians will settle for anything short of the full destruction of my country and since that is something they will never get, there will always be a battle. Aren't you tired of fighting? People ask me.

As if I had a choice...as if I chose to fight.

But what they fail to understand is that we do live in peace - more peace than you can imagine. Every Friday, there is bread rising in my kitchen. I could buy a machine to knead the dough - I prefer to do it with my own hands. It rises and is baked, and the smell announces that the Sabbath is coming. One of my children fills the candelabra with oil - beautiful colors - purple, turquoise, gentle orange, several shades of blue. More signs that the Sabbath is coming. We will soon greet each other with "Shabbat shalom" - the peace of the Sabbath.

The white table cloth on the table - that much of the week has a computer on it - is another sign. The fragrant smells of soup and chicken and more. It's only hours away...

Peace is coming to my land. It is inevitable; there is no choice. Shabbat shalom.

A Dare from Anonymous # 423

2012-01-04T08:31:00.002+02:00

I love a dare. I'm rarely able to resist one. Dare me, dare me...I've been dared:

I told my two (oh so important) jewish friends you´ll never publish this. Let´s see who is right.

I guess, along with much else in your comment, you were proved wrong here as well. So, now that I've brought your comment to focus and all eyes to see - let's see what you didn't believe I would post:

Your country is the US. You have NO right of the lands you are in right now. NO rights!!

By this twisted logic of yours...my country should be Poland and Russia and my children's country should be the US and Hungary. But wait, go back another few generations, and you've got more of Poland and Spain. Go back further...and you have it - Israel. Israel was always my land, always will be. It is that fundamental sense of belonging that you just don't get. It isn't for you to tell me where I belong, what is my land. I was born in the United States, that's true. Largely in part to the fact that three of my grandparents had to flee persecution in Europe. One grandfather fled Poland - do you really still consider him Polish? One grandmother managed to survive when the building she was in (a synagogue, by the way) was set on fire by the Christians in her village during a pogrom in Russia). Do you really consider her Russian? What right do you have to decide when history counts and when it doesn't? When it stops and when it starts?

I grew up in the United States, that's true. But from a very young age, I understood two things: the United States is a great country, and the United States wasn't mine. I couldn't, in all honesty, repeat the pledge of allegiance that they said daily in elementary school. "I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America" (http://www.wvsd.uscourts.gov/outreach/Pledge.htm). I spoke to the teacher...she said - stand, stand and don't say it, but stand out of respect. And so I did, for the country that had sheltered my grandparents and my future in-laws. I could not sing the Christmas carols in school and so I sat quietly. It wasn't mine, I told myself again and again.

Your kids yes, especially the ones born there. But I think they too belong to your family and your land is the US. (But them coming there so young and helpless of course they can call themselves Israelis. They were forced there. SHAME ON YOU!

But again, this isn't about you, is it? You think "they too belong to your family"..well, gee, thanks for that....and to again, that comment about deciding what my land is. There have always been Jews in the land of Israel - dating back thousands of years. If you don't want to believe the Bible, believe science. Both show our presence here - always here. Yes, many were forced out and later generations grew up in Spain, Greece, Italy, Russia, Poland, Germany, Holland and yes, even the United States. And through all that time, three times a day, many turned to this spot and sent their prayers, their support, and many their futures. I did not leave my home in the United States almost 20 years ago, I came home.

If you have children, do you take them to the store? Do you take them to your parents' house? Is everything with a child forced? If you think so, I'd say you don't know much about parenting. Withing two weeks of coming to Israel, my 6-year-old Elie was talking on the phone to his grandparents, going on and on about his new friends, new room, and I remember so clearly, "Savta [grandma], we are so free here. So free!" - he was talking about the joy of being able to walk to his friends alone because in America I never let my young children go unaccompanied anywhere.

Shame on me? For what? For coming home? For bringing my children to a place that has invested so much in their future and given them a sense of being, a sense of self, a deeper understanding of their lives as Jews? My sister, brother and I never volunteered for the local ambulance squad, for example. My fourth child has just completed the local ambulance squad course and testing and will soon start volunteering - following ALL three of my older children. They love this country and even if I were to choose to leave Israel tomorrow, they would stay. Forced? Not by a long shot. Shame? None.

Well... as an audience just observing this mess you got yourselfs into I can tell u about my jewish friends they fled from different countries, with Israel as an option, decided that they didnt want to send their sons at war for a country they didnt grow up in.

The mess we got ourselves into? Do you know history at all? Even a little? Jews were in this land. Arabs were in this land. It was not an Arab land...or a Jewish one back in the 1900s, 1920s, 1940s. The Ottomans (Turks) were defeated; the land was given to the British as part of a mandate. They cut off two thirds of the land and gave it to the Hashemites to create Jordan, and then promised the rest of the land to both the Jews (first) and then the Arabs.

Apparently, that little double promise didn't sit well and they began losing control and were sick of the whole thing. They kicked it back to the newly formed United Nations, which decided to divide the land (November, 1947). The Jews rejoiced - that our ancient (and modern) homeland would again be fully ours. We accepted our HALF of the land and began dreaming of the State we would build, of the people we would welcome home after what was done to them in Europe...your Europe, if my guess is correct.

As an aside, yes, Jews chose to go other places - but not all decided based on trying to avoid war for their sons. My in-laws (both survivors who had lost their parents and some siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents to Hitler's plan) just wanted out of Europe. They applied to the British to come to Palestine; they applied to the US; they applied to Australia - anything, anywhere just to get away. Some got visas to Australia; some got visas to Palestine (my in-laws) and shipped their possessions here and waited for the others. The British blocked the visas because of pressure from the Arabs and so they went to the only place willing to welcome them all - the United States.

Going back to November, 1947 - we accepted the half we would receive; the Arabs did not. They spoke of pushing the Jews into the sea with the help of their Arab brothers. The State of Israel was declared on May 14, 1948. On that day - within hours - at least five Arab countries attacked. Their plan was to finish, at least in Palestine, what Hitler had begun.

You speak of your Jewish friends but sadly don't identify the land in which you live. If it is France or the England, there's a decent chance they are now wondering how safe it is to be a Jew in those countries after numerous anti-Semitic attacks. If it is Holland, same thing. On and on, it goes. I chose to bring my sons to Israel, knowing they would be drafted and join the army here, knowing they would learn to use weapons against our enemies. I agonized over my son going to war. Agony and fear. Fear for his safety; agony for what he was forced to learn, forced to do - to stop Gaza from firing hundreds of rockets at our civilians.

If there was any force in all of this history you wish to twist and corrupt, it is in what the Arabs have forced us to do to defend ourselves and the fact that despite this force, we continue to resist the temptation to finish the battle as other nations would. Others with the strength we have, would do what the Arabs threatened to do to us 63 years ago. With all the power of our army and air force, how long do you think it would take to push Gaza into the sea? I would suggest minutes - seriously.

We choose to continue to target their rocket launchers, their training camps, their arsenals. And when we do - they lie about martyrs dying. Those "martyrs" were about to fire a rocket at 1 million people. And while we target their military infrastructure, they target our civilian one. They fired a rocket directly at a school bus, killing a 16-year-old boy. They fired at our cities, hitting schools, malls, homes.

And now? What? They are citizens as any citizen. We live work and laugh together. I told my two (oh so important) jewish friends you´ll never publish this. Let´s see who is right.

I'm glad your Jewish friends are citizens as any citizen and hope they remain safe. Tell them Israel is here, protecting them in a way you are likely unable to understand. Tell them if they come visit, we will welcome them home because Israel is their home, just as it is mine and always was. You told your Jewish friends that I would never publish this - I guess you were wrong...about more than you can imagine.

Israel is my land. Three of my children are old enough to choose to live elsewhere if they wanted to - they choose to live here, marry here, and one has already brought a third generation Israeli into our family with the birth of our grandson. Two of my children were born here. This is my land.

A Final Thought for the Night

2012-01-02T22:11:00.000+02:00

For the last few days and for the next two weeks or so, I'm going to force myself to relive a war. I can't tell you what there is inside me that makes me need to do this - to remember the fear, the worry, the sadness and sometimes, the outright terror. It makes me remember a post I'll be adding here soon about Aliza and a mistaken alarm that sent her and her school to bomb shelters - unprepared by teachers, who were themselves concerned and unsure whether there was a real attack taking place or a mistake.

For weeks, she relived that siren; kept describing how she had gotten separated from her class, with two friends -and how they cried in fear. But that's for the tomorrows to come. For now, as I finally close down and prepare to go home after a very long day at work, I have one final thought.

I am here. In Jerusalem. The capital of my country; a most beautiful city. For all the rockets and the hatred; for all the rock throwing and the lies; for all the violence - it is I who sit here and not them. Someone once told me a story - he learned that he had been picked to spend two years in the United States doing outreach work. He was very excited about this new adventure and called his elderly father to tell him.

Rather than rejoice, his father told him he had to think carefully about what he had done. What mistake, perhaps, he had committed, what sin, that God was sending him into exile. Yes, there was a wonderful part to his leaving Israel for two years, but there was also a very serious part as well.

At the end of the day, as night slips into my country, I am here. So blessed. So thankful. So proud.

May God bless this beautiful land with grace, with safety, with peace, with people who always love it and honor it. Am Yisrael Chai. - the people of Israel live.

627 Rockets - @Northerntomcat and the Evil of Silence

2012-01-02T20:33:00.000+02:00

That's the number of rockets that were fired at Israel in the year 2011. That comes to a bit under 2 rockets per day - every day, for the entire year. Some months, there were very few rockets. One month, there was only 1. Other months, dozens, even more than a hundred.

As expected, the typical response came through very quickly...

How incredibly lame that @Northerntomcat doesn't condemn the rocketfire but rather wants to belittle it. Well, yeah, they shot 627 rockets, but since 627 people didn't die from those attacks, let's just forget about them, okay? I mean, sure, people were terrorized, children frightened, parents frantic to locate their children, but we need a way to negate this violence and so we focus not on the atrocity of firing 627 rockets at over 1 million people, but the fact that those firing it missed.

I can point to Daniel Viflic, a 16-year-old boy who was killed when Palestinians in the Gaza Strip fired a Kornet anti-tank missile at a school bus in the Sha'ar Hanegev Regional Council.

I can point to August 10th, when a rocket fired at a Jewish religious seminary in Ashdod injured 10 people, two of them seriously and all but destroyed the yeshiva.

I can point to 38-year-old Yossi Shoshan of Ofakim, who was rushing home on August 20, when he was hit by a Grad rocket fired at Beersheba, leaving behind a wife who was in her ninth month of pregnancy.

I can point to a father of four who was killed in another attack, and others hurt, devastated, terrified. I can point to destruction and fear, but really, why bother? @Northerntomcat with all of 22 followers isn't interested in facts.

@Northerntomcat lives in Canada, far from the Middle East and even farther from any sense of reality or justice. Tell me, how many rockets were fired at Canada this year? Do we really measure violence only by success? Is it okay to attempt to murder someone so long as you don't succeed? To attempt to rape someone, so long as you fail?

If there is a single reason beyond the culture that is Gaza why there is no peace in the Middle East, I would say we have discovered it. Those who allow the Arabs to fire rockets and do not demand they stop - send a clear message that it is acceptable to terrorize so long as you don't manage to succeed to well and if you do, well...oops.

My only other thought is that @Northerntomcat is steeped in her/his hatred of Israel (and likely Jews) and likely mourns each missile that does not maim and kill. Terror is not enough, apparently.

And so, as a final message to @Northerntomcat, I will leave you with one thought - you and others like you are the very reason why we must have Israel. It was your type who stood quietly when the Nazis marched...unless of course, you were wearing one of those black shirts. It was you who stood on the sidelines in silence - unless it was you raising your arm to salute.

It was you and yours who have encouraged the violence and helped perpetuate the horrors of the Middle East by ignoring the horrors and injustices, by saying it's okay if you kill a little, if you try but fail.

How truly sad, how truly evil.

A Post from Monty...with Thanks

2012-01-02T13:41:00.000+02:00

Why do I write this blog?

Well, in truth, it started as therapy - no, seriously. I had a choice, as I saw it and neither option was very attractive. I could drive Elie crazy...or I could drive myself crazy. I wanted Elie to be free of my concerns, to fully experience the army and become all that he did become...and I wanted to figure out if I had to give up sleep for the next three years of my life, learn to live with all manner of ulcers, and possibly develop a most unattractive twitch. Okay, I exaggerate...a little.

Ultimately though, I mostly learned the ways of the army and learned to cope. I learned when to give in to terror, when I didn't have to worry at all, and how to pass the time when sleep would not come. I also realized, pretty early on, that there were other people reading my blog (a surprise at the time) who were learning about Israel. Not the Israel they read in the media, but the real Israel - and what is happening here and what motivates us. One of my favorite posts was written to someone named Tom who asked me a most wonderful question, "What's it actually like in Israel?"

Well, that may be one of my favorite posts, but this is one of my favorite comments - thanks to Monty from New Zealand - with much love from Israel! Monty wrote:

I visited Israel from New Zealand with my mother in 2010. We are not Jewish but she wanted to go there and wanted company so took me. I was hesitant at first having heard all the "news" stories. I loved it, from the Sea of Gallilee to Haifa, Tel Aviv beaches, Golan Heights I just loved it. The only place I didn't feel safe was Bethalem which i can only describe as vile. Jerusalem was divine. And the food! Problem for me is I so want to go back there I can't stop thinking about it! Best wishes to you. Love your blog which i found through Twitter..

I'm so glad you visited with your mother and oh yes, Jerusalem is divine! Come back soon!

Scatterbrained...from the war

2012-01-02T10:15:00.006+02:00

Of all the posts that I made during the war, this was another I remember clearly. I thought, really thought, I was handling it - this one showed me that I wasn't quite as together as I thought. I remember wanting to hit myself in the side of my head and say, "CONCENTRATE" - but that was meaningless. I couldn't concentrate on anything other than wondering where Elie was, what was happening, when I would speak to him again, and when it would end. I kept checking the news, listening to the radio. It was cold that day and running the oven seemed a great way to pass time and warm the house. Here's the post from January 2, showing my brain was just...worthless...

Scatterbrained...just...Scatterbrained (January 2, 2009)

I went into my bomb shelter - where I keep my pots and pans and mixing bowls. I'm making vanilla cake muffins with pineapple. I looked at the stack. The white or the yellow bowl? Definitely the yellow bowl, I decided. I reached up and took the white one to the table and began mixing the cake.

All done. I made 24 little muffins, each with a bit of pineapple in it, and put them into the oven. When they are finished, I thought to myself, I'll continue making something else. Maybe I'll make brownies. Good idea. Well, the white bowl still has batter in it, so I got the yellow one. It was only when I looked up to get the yellow one that I remembered deciding to take the white one. All I could say this time, was that with one bowl up there from which to choose, I got it right.

I went to add eggs to the mix. There's already an egg in the cup. That means that instead of adding 6 eggs to the white cake, I added only 5 and left one egg in the cup.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry about it. No, crying would be dumb. I have so much more I could cry about. This morning as I attempted to bake cakes in the wrong bowls and with too few eggs:
two rockets landed near Sderot
seven rockets landed in Ashkelon, wounding at least one woman
a rocket hit near the city of Netivot and people are being treated for shock
two other rockets landed near Sha'ar HaNegev - one hitting near a large school
And it is only 10:20 in the morning...and I don't know if those rockets are flying over Elie's head.

Yesterday's Nightmares...and Today's

2012-01-01T08:55:00.003+02:00

One more post looking back contained much of my philosophy of parenting. I read it now and smile because it is so much of what I believe and what I hope to pass on to my children for how they raise their own. It is ironic that this happened on the day Elie was sent to Gaza. From what I can tell, I posted this early in the morning - hours before I would find out that he had been moved. Aliza and Elie have always had this unspoken connection - I can't help looking back now and wondering whether deep inside of her she understood more than I did that day. She came to my bed, shaking and crying - I remember her fear, her sorrow. I have seen it only a few times - and each time have instinctively reacted the same way. Here's the post from exactly three years ago - almost to the hour:

Night Terrors and Day Dreams
After a rough night with my youngest daughter, I offer two beliefs and a philosophy that have guided my life and my parenting.

1. You can't spoil a baby; you can't hold them too much.

When my first daughter was born, I couldn't put her down. People would tell me, "she's asleep; she doesn't need to be held now" and I would inevitably answer, "I know, but I need to hold her." I held my children; I didn't let them cry. All except one night when my baby daughter (the first) was just short of three months old and the doctor had told us she should sleep through the night and if we let her cry for three nights, she would sleep uninterrupted.

The first night was agony; I couldn't stand it. I begged my husband to listen to make sure she was OK, and I went downstairs to the couch in the living room and just cried myself. I never did that to another child. It wasn't worth it. She did learn to sleep through the night earlier than the others, but I learned there are better ways to accomplish this and more importantly, it isn't the end of the world if they don't learn to sleep through the night till later.

Each child probably took longer, but somehow I never minded. All healthy, normal children eventually sleep through the night (or get old enough to entertain themselves). All healthy, normal children eventually get toilet trained. They learn to walk, to talk, to be independent, at their own rate and there are enough things in life that cause you to rush forward. Watching a child grow is one of the greatest joys in life, why rush it?

2. Parents can share their bed; mothers aren't likely to smother their infants; and sometimes, kids just need to be near their parents physically.

As they grow, they need to just come and give or get a hug. For no reason other than they suddenly realized they haven't gotten one in a while, or that the world is a big place. Sometimes, this need goes way beyond those infant years. My two younger children, at almost 13 and 9, still come over for this quick feeling of connection (while I have to chase after Elie and my middle son).

I think children should have their own beds and be encouraged to sleep in them. But as a newborn, my children were more likely to be found in my bed than in their own. After the first few weeks or perhaps months, they became accustomed to sleeping in their own cribs but once they were able to walk, there were times they would come to us in the middle of the night. To gain admittance to our beds was simple - come and ask, and often, just climb in. We'll let you do it today and tonight and probably tomorrow night too.

Make a habit of it, and we might sort of break you of the habit, but now and then, our bed is always open to you, as are our arms. For years, especially on mornings when there was no school, one or two or three or more children would climb in and we'd cuddle or talk or wrestle. I miss those days even though at least three of my kids are full grown and too big (although yes, sometimes they'll still come and sit and talk, and even lay down).

So, those are two of my great parenting beliefs; I'm sure there are others.

And a philosophical point: when you most need to sleep, that's the time your child will come to wake you up, to need your attention. It's always been that way. I can't count the number of times I've had an important meeting the next day, and spent hours dealing with a fussy child. Perhaps they feel our tension; perhaps there is something else going on.

And so, in the middle of all else that is happening in Israel now, why have I gotten to this subject now?

Because last night, my youngest daughter came to my room in the middle of the night. She was shaking and scared. She'd had a terrible dream and could find no comfort. I didn't even have to prompt her before she told her terrifying story.

Bad men came to take her and her friends. They told her that they were going to kill her and they told her that they'd killed her family. I was completely awake by the time she'd finished and without hesitation, I simply lifted my blanket and in she climbed. Within minutes, she was sound asleep, cuddled by my side, holding my hand.

Hours later, she went to school and I went to work. I can analyze in all directions why she had that dream and still never know for sure what prompted it, what deep fear she has inside her. It could have been something she saw, something she read. It could easily be hearing the news and worrying about Elie and others. It really doesn't matter because there is little more that I can do for her other than what I did.

Her country is being hit by rockets every day. Even at 9 years old, she knows this and yet she asks no questions. A soldier was killed the other day, hit by a mortar. A mother was playing with her daughter in the park when they heard the siren in Ashkelon. They ran for cover, but didn't make it in time. The mother was critically injured, the daughter suffered minor wounds.

While my daughter probably didn't hear that specific tragedy, she hears others. Her brother is a soldier and she doesn't really understand where he is. She's never been to an army base, other than the training one in the south. She sees him come home and sees him leave and doesn't really know where he goes or when he will be back. This time, it has been longer than usual.

For a while, he was coming home every other weekend, and during the month before this happened, Elie had been home three times. He's been gone now for almost three weeks.
She spoke to him once on the phone but I usually catch up with him after she has gone to bed and even when I do call early enough for her to talk to him, he's usually at the checkpoint and too busy to listen to a 9-year-old talk about her math test, her English test, and who she is best friends with this week.

I think that just as I had my melt-down yesterday over something so simple as the woman at the bank wishing Elie well, I think my youngest daughter finally gave in to the tension she feels around her. There isn't much I can do to help her, other than lift the blanket and tell her to climb in. Judging by how quickly she went back to sleep, this time snugly in my bed, I guess that was enough.

As she slept beside me, warm and content, I decided that maybe I needed it as much as she did. Sometimes you hold a baby because you need the comfort even more than they do and sometimes, I've discovered, you call your son in the army because you need that too.
Maybe growing into a soldier's mother isn't that different than the rest of the journey I started years ago, when my first child cried out and I took her in my arms. Sometimes, the journey is hard and scary and exhausting, but there is no other road I would take, no other path I could imagine following.

I was trying to think of the ending to this post - something like, "The road is long. With many a winding turn. That leads us to who knows where. Who knows where. But I'm strong. Strong enough to carry him. He ain't heavy, he's my brother", where I could have substituted the word "son" for "brother."

But truthfully, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to carry Elie and he's certainly more likely to be calm and carrying his own weight and much of ours. As I was contemplating this, my phone beeped, and so I'll end with how we live these days:

"A Grad missile has hit the center of the city of Ashdod. There are wounded. Perhaps from shock."

And so it continues.

And to bring it back to today, to January 1, 2012 - two mortars were fired this morning at the Eshkol region of Israel. The mortars were fired from Gaza in a war that never ends and likely will never end so long as the Palestinians choose the path of death, violence and terror.

Happy New Year from the IDF

2012-01-01T07:54:00.002+02:00

Into the War Zone - 3 Years Later (part 2)

2012-01-01T07:47:00.000+02:00

The other thing you get with hindsight and time are the little side bits of information you didn't know - and maybe it was better that way. Two bits of information came out later - after the war was over. The first was about positioning and since it won't help our enemies, I'll explain.

When Elie's unit was moved down near Gaza - they arrived before their equipment. They were told to make camp and set up the locations where the artillery cannons would be located. K., Elie's battalion commander looked over the area he was assigned. The formation of the equipment was textbook - once you picked out the location.

He saw a spot that had been hit by a rocket - "there" he pointed - put the first cannon there. His figuring was a combination of two things - the first was the theory that lightning (and Hamas rockets) never hit in the same place twice; the second was likely an "in your face" answer to Hamas. You hit our land? From the very spot you hit us, we will hit back. Both seemed to work - Elie's unit was never, thankfully, directly hit - though there were calls close enough to have them take shelter.

The second thing that came out after the war was that I was dumb enough to believe so much of what Elie tried to communicate in code. When he told me that he was shutting his phone to save the battery, I think a normal Israeli mother (or at least her husband) would have understood what he was telling me. I didn't.

The message really was - Ima, we are closing our phones so that no one gives out vital information - because the war is about to start. Elie was responsible not just for closing his phone but for physically collecting the phones of his unit so that no one could call their parents (or post to Facebook) that they were about to go in. I fell for it completely, naively. I waited for him to turn his phone back on.

Even when I heard they'd gone in and fighting had begun, still I waited. The saying "loose lips sink ships" applies here in Israel has well. So the war began and I waited until the middle of the night - at 2:30 a.m. when Elie sent me a message telling me that the war had begun, that he was fine.

I don't regret not knowing the first story - of where the cannons were placed and upon such logic but deep down I'm glad I didn't understand what Elie was telling me when he told me he was resting his battery.

Into the War Zone - 3 Years Later (part 1)

2012-01-01T07:38:00.000+02:00

On January 1 2009, the army moved Elie's unit into position near Gaza. All my prayers until that time had not been answered - actually, I truly believe they were answered...it's just that God said "No." You see, I do believe God answers all prayers - it's just that sometimes, like any good parent, He has to say no. I begged him not to send Elie to war...or not to let Elie be sent to war - whatever you want me to say.

I didn't want him there. And yet, on Thursday afternoon, I got a call from him. As had happened several times during that week, in anticipation of their moving Elie's unit either north to a possible confrontation with Hezbollah on Lebanon or south to a possible war with Gaza, my first question was always, "Elie, where are you?"

This time, the answer was different, "not where you left me." I had dropped him off at his base more than three weeks before, expecting him to be home two weeks later. Oh God, I thought to myself...be calm.

"Are you north of where you were, or south?" I asked, not wanting to say his location over the phone. I like to think our enemies are stupid - I needed to believe they wouldn't understand this barely coded conversation.

"South," he answered, and my heart fell south into my stomach. Somehow, I finished the conversation with him without crying, without panicking - or at least I like to remember that I did. I couldn't write about it right away - and that, for me, is a statement in itself. Three years later, I still remember the simple word, "South."

Houses of God

Breathe in...breathe out...I've been doing it all my life, so why today does it seem so hard?
In a conversation with Elie, we talked about the rocket attacks on Beersheva. I told him that a kindergarten and a high school had been hit hard - thankfully the buildings were empty.

Of course, they were empty because we would not risk the lives of our children, and the buildings aren't fortified against missile attack. Why should they be? Is your children's school fortified against missiles? Who shoots missiles at a city where hundreds of thousands of people live?

And then Elie said, "that's artillery, Ima." Yes, that's the point. The Palestinians are shooting artillery at us...and we will now shoot artillery back. And Elie, as he has told me in the past, is artillery.

So, last night, two things happened. The first, Israel warned a senior Hamas member to vacate his home. The army knew it was being used as an explosives storage facility. The army issued the warning, allowed time for the evacuation, and blew up the house.

As expected, there were numerous secondary explosions that were triggered by the initial Israeli missile. These explosions, one of which was shown live on Fox News the other day, prove that Israel is hitting explosives, not just empty buildings. Nothing exploded when the school in Beersheva was hit. Part of it just came crashing down.

There was one problem with the hit on the Hamas leader's home. He indeed was not home - but the Palestinians didn't bother to evacuate the building. The man's four wives and eleven of his thirteen children were killed. One son survived. The other child died years ago when he decided to kill himself for the "divine" pleasure of becoming a suicide bomber to murder Israelis. So, this man who stored explosives in his home with his wives and children wakes this morning to a new reality - his wives, his children, and his explosives are all gone. I can't help but wonder what he mourns most.

The second thing that happened last night is that the army of Israel moved my trained son to a war zone to help fight against those who fire missiles and rockets at our civilians. There is no military secret here. The army has already made it clear that artillery and tanks are in place. The only "news" here, is that the name of at least one of the soldiers in the artillery is Elie. My Elie.
This is good. This is why he is in the army - to defend his land and this is why today, amidst cooking for the Sabbath and baking a cake and cleaning the house and doing the laundry, I am going to try, really really hard, to remember how to breathe. It seemed during the night that I'd forgotten, but since I'm still here, I guess I managed it enough to survive...and I will today too.
And you would be so proud of me. I was so calm when Elie told me. Even when he told me he was going to close his phone to save the battery and so I can't call him but have to wait till he calls me. I told him to be careful, told him to call when he can and didn't start to cry or panic until I'd closed the phone.

May God please, please protect my son, all my sons - because they are all mine. Watch over them and keep them safe and guide their missiles to hit only those buildings that have explosives and rockets in them. And please, God, give the Palestinian leadership enough sense not to store their explosives with their wives and children.

Oh, and one more prayer - please take care of those Palestinian gunmen who are hiding themselves and their weapons in hospitals - especially in the maternity wards among the innocent newborns.

Oh, wait - one other - please ask the Palestinians to choose between praying in a mosque and storing weapons there because, if they store weapons there, like the two we have already bombed, we are going to bomb those structures too. A House of God is not an arsenal and an arsenal cannot be a House of God.

Another Look Back...Drat, I Lost It

2011-12-31T09:05:00.001+02:00

There are three posts that I remember well from the war period. More really, but three that stand out because most of the time I had convinced myself I was handling it, except for when I knew I wasn't (if that makes sense).
In this post from December 31, 2007 - a simple thing like calling the bank brought me to tears.

Drat...I lost it...

Rockets have landed today in Beersheva again, Sderot, Ashkelon, Netivot, Eshkol region, several kibbutzim in the area and, for the first time, Gedera. Today, in light of the missiles that hit Beersheva last night, the city decided to close schools for the day. And a great miracle happened - no one was hurt when a missile slammed into a school. There was great damage to the building, but buildings are nothing. It is the people that cannot be replaced, the children that we revere.

I've watched as the news detailed each missile attack. I went into class today, giving someone my phone and one simple request, "if Elie calls, interrupt the class."

I didn't call Elie in the morning because I don't know if he was on late and might still be sleeping. I didn't call him during my breaks, nor into the hours of the afternoon. Mostly, it was because I feel like we're all waiting. It's like when you know a woman is nearing the end of her pregnancy. The last thing she needs is for people to call her each day to ask her if anything is happening. And yet, that's what it feels like. I don't know when, if, or where the army will take my son. I haven't talked to him every day in a week since he was in training.

Then, I felt he needed it and now, now I know it is me. I need to hear that he's still waiting to move, and not already in danger and he just needs to do what he's doing. All in all, though people are asking me how things are, I think I'm handling it quite well, writing all the time, calming others far and near. First, because there's nothing to handle - he's not even there. Second because to a much larger degree, all things are in Greater Hands than mine and thirdly, as strange as this sounds, human nature is to try to get accustomed to new situations, to make them normal.

While there is nothing "normal" about your country being at war or people living under the constant threat of violence, you find a way, somehow, to accept and lessen the tension. Of course, it all might come back in seconds when you hear a siren or get beeped on your telephone, but you find that 10 minutes can pass, and then 15, and then 30, when you don't feel that sense of panic. So, I was cruising along today, feeling pretty good. I wrote to one mother trying to make sure she was calm; passing on all the things others were saying to me. Other than that one comment about bringing me the phone if Elie called, I was doing just fine.

During the breaks, I didn't stay and talk to those taking our course, but rather went right to the computer. More rockets throughout the south, damage and some injuries but in all cases, it could have been so much worse. There could have been fatalities; there could have been children in the school that was hit. Azoun wasn't in the news. I can handle this, I thought to myself proudly as I finished the class and wished everyone a good weekend until we meet again next week.

And then, I lost it.

It's the last day of the financial year; the last chance to deposit money into various employee accounts and still get the tax credit. I faxed the papers to the bank and to the insurance agent and then had to deal with calling each to confirm. I live in a wonderful city of about 35,000 people and yet for all that it is a city, it's also got a small town closeness to it. I know everyone at the local bank, and most know that Elie is a soldier.

"How's your son?" asked the woman over the phone.

"He's OK," I answered slowly.

"Is he there?" she continued.

"No, at least I don't think so. I spoke to him yesterday. They might send his unit down, but I don't know when."

"He should go in peace and come back in peace and be safe," and then a minute later, "I sent you the fax confirming the transfer."

I thanked her, got off the phone and just lost it. My eyes filled with tears. God, I want to see him and I want him to call me and tell me he's fine and I don't want to listen to how many rockets have fallen and how many people are living with this constant fear that the next missile will hit them.

I don't want to hear another country telling us that WE should stop, when it is them.
They should stop. They shouldn't shoot missiles at 700,000 people. Fine - our weapons are accurate and almost always hit what they are aimed at, while their weapons are incredibly inaccurate and rarely hit anything,and never mind what they hope it would hit. They may hit open fields most of the time, but when they don't, they are aimed at people. They hit a school today. They hit a kindergarten last night. They've hit malls and cars and homes and people. Tell THEM to stop and we won't have to stop them.

Tell THEM to talk and not fire. Hold THEM accountable. Force THEM to recognize the sanctity of life and stop glorifying death.

So, I sat there in my office for a few minutes, letting all these thoughts fill my head. I turned from my computer, my connection to all that is exploding, and looked out the windows at the black clouds hovering overhead and there, to the side, where the two walls of windows that grace my beautiful office meet. It's my photo gallery, two pictures of each of my children and between each pair of pictures, a note that my youngest daughter wrote to each, promising them that she loves them more than anyone else. She's still too young to understand the illogical nature of that concept; each note remains true. She loves all of us more than anyone else.

What an amazing country we live in. The transfer is made, the employee papers filed, rockets are exploding, and the woman at the bank offers a blessing that my son should be safe.

Another Rocket

2011-12-29T17:18:00.000+02:00

Another rocket was fired this afternoon at Israel - around 2:45 p.m. in the afternoon. It exploded in the Shaar HaNegev area, in an open field, injuring no one. The Arabs often excuse the firing of rockets based on where they land, ignoring the terror it causes, the shock of those in the area, the fear of those who were or might soon be near where the rocket hit.

Four rockets last night; two more during the day. What would your government do? What would you call on your army to do? It's 5:15 in Israel now - night is just falling. The Arabs fire rockets more often at night, believing they can hide in the darkness (I'm hoping no one explains the concept of night vision to them).

But it also seems appropriate somehow - that they fight in darkness, as they live their lives. In the darkness of hatred, of violence, of death. Tonight, although I hope I am wrong, I believe they will fire at Israel again...and soon, soon the army will decide it is time once again to go in with ground forces. No nation should have to accept daily rocket fire. No nation would. Israel must not.

Update on Rockets

2011-12-29T08:05:00.000+02:00

Another rocket landed a short time ago. It exploded in the Eshkol region - in an open field and there were no reported injuries. It is now 8:00 a.m. in Israel - the children back in school after a long Hanuka vacation. The rocket hit a bit after 7:15 - while children were on their way to school.

Who Slept in Israel Last Night?

2011-12-29T07:10:00.003+02:00

I push myself too hard, too often. That's the bottom line...and I pretty much always have. This week was no different - two nights I worked until after 3:00 a.m - only to be up and about around 6:30 a.m. Last night, after driving to pick up Elie and Lauren, I knew I was running on empty. I didn't even have time to really enjoy the chocolate (CHOCOLATE!!!!) and the new Nook they bought me (yeah!).

I went to bed around 7:30 p.m. hoping to get up and do some work around 9:00 p.m. It didn't happen. It's now 6:45 a.m. and I feel...rested.

While I slept...
8:40 p.m.: 2 rockets landed in southern Israel, open areas; no injuries

11:04 p.m.: Color Red sirens in many places in the south
11:05 p.m.: Explosion or explosions heard in or near one of the smaller villages
11:09 p.m.: Two rocket attacks confirmed - open areas...no damage except for the fear inflicted on small children as their parents wake them from sleep and carry them to protected areas. Hopefully to fall asleep again...and dream only good things.

11:12 p.m. Color Red warnings again
11:13 p.m Missile firings confirmed (at least 3) - Nahal Oz and Eshkol regions
11:15 p.m. One impact site found - open areas; no info on the second location.
11:15 p.m. Two more landings: Shaar HaNegeg and Shderot HaNegev - no injuries
1:35 a.m. Warning of incoming missile to Be'er Tuvia
2:59 a.m. Reports of the air force attacking two sites in Gaza - probably teams about to launch more rockets, but this is my thought and not confirmed.
5:20 a.m The air force confirms it has hit another target - again, likely the rocket launchers in another attempt to hit Israel.

So, while I slept, Israel was hit with at least four rockets and there were, it seems, at least two more attempts to fire against our citizens. What happened while you slept? That, my friends, is the difference - and that is why another Gaza War may well be around the corner. I slept...but hundreds of thousands of people in the south had a long night. At some point, they probably decided just to try to sleep in safe rooms - rooms that are protected by thickened walls and smaller windows with a metal door that shields the glass from impact. They are lucky - it is winter and so closing the window blocks out the cold rather than causing them to sleep in hot, unbearable conditions.

Last night, Lauren slept in Aliza's room. I had thought to take Aliza out because she has to get up early and got to school and this way Lauren could sleep longer. They went straight from the plane to a friend's party celebrating the wedding that Lauren and Elie missed because they were in the States. They got home late and will likely have been exhausted.

I asked Aliza if she would sleep in her old room - the secured room next to my bedroom that has become more of an office than a bedroom. "No," she answered and I could hear in her voice that this was not an option, "no way. It's too scary."

She slept in her room. That room was the room she slept in when the Fogel family was attacked and murdered, leaving two little boys and Tamar Fogel, who was 12 years old. These are the fears our children live with long after the "explosions."

"We haven't had a war in a long time," Aliza said to me a few days ago as I was driving with her. A long time? We were at war three years ago, I thought to myself. What a concept that a child thinks not having a war in three years is a long time. She has heard the rocket attack reporting on the news as we drive to school or to other places. She is smart enough to know that a nation cannot withstand these rocket attacks and do nothing. I can only wonder why the Palestinians themselves are not nearly as smart.

Why, I want to ask them. How can you possibly think you can launch four rockets at Israeli cities and not expect us to respond. How could you be so stupid to think that we won't? Today our children return to school after a week's vacation. Many of the schools are not protected from incoming rocket fire - why should they be? Are your schools protected from missiles?

Last night I slept...and woke to the knowledge that it would have been so much smarter for the Palestinians if their sons had slept as well.

3 Years Ago at War: The Significance of a Table

2011-12-28T09:09:00.003+02:00

Still in the looking-back mode, I remember this post. It seemed so important to me...until I realized how silly it was. This past week, we were supposed to be six. Shmulik and Naama were at her parents' house. Elie and Lauren in the States. Amira came home with her husband and beautiful baby - still too young to sit at the table. We would be six. Minutes before Shabbat began, a neighboring friend of Aliza's called. Her parents were going away and had asked her to find a place to stay. We were it.

Within moments, we opened the table to seat 8. After Shabbat ended, we closed the table again to 6, where it will remain during the week...unless it doesn't. I've gotten more philosophical about the table, but I remember staring at it wondering what would happen next week. I knew, even in those moments, that it was a week that would change our lives. I was trying to organize my youngest son's bar mitzvah, making plans (and helping Haim, my son-in-law, organize a family video for the event). It was too much to consider Elie going to war...and yet, it was happening.

The Table (December 28, 2007)

I know this is silly and yet, since I've decided that I'll try to post in this blog real things that I experience, here's one. I have a dining room table. OK, a lot of us do, so I'll continue. We bought our dining room table less than a year after we were married. As a young couple, we were quite amazed to have this beautiful table with six chairs. Each week, my husband sat at the head of the table and I sat next to him. It seemed too far away and silly for me to sit at the other end of the table. When we had company, sometimes I sat at the other end and sometimes I stayed by my husband and sat others around. It stayed that nice compact size for many years. We had guests here and there, but each time the guests left, the table went right back to its six-seater size.

With the birth of each child, or more specifically when they got big enough to sit at the table, I slowly moved towards the end. It was easier because that way my husband could help feed and watch some children while I dealt with the younger ones.

We moved to Israel with three children and still the table stayed small. We had a fourth child, our third son and finally after a little over a decade of marriage, we had filled the table to capacity. By this time, my husband was firmly at the head of the table; the two older children sat near him and the two younger ones sat near me. Or, if we had company, sometimes the younger ones would sit near him so that he could feed them and entertain guests. Either way, I had firmly established myself at one end of the table.

After our fifth child grew large enough to actually sit at the table, we entered a new reality - one leaf was almost a constant in the house and we now had a table that seats eight comfortably. So, for the next few years, the table would grow to 10 and shrink to 8. There was never a reason to go back to its 6-seater days - our family alone was 7 and I was most definitely at one end with my husband far away on the other side.

Then less than two years ago, my daughter got married - that put us up to 8, but with her marriage, she moved out and so we were sometimes 6 and sometimes 8. Two weeks later, Elie went into the army and so we were sometimes five, sometimes six and sometimes 7 and sometimes 8 and the weekly dance of the table begins. When we are only 5, the 8-seater table is too big and the 10-seater is simply huge.

Sometimes, most of the time, we leave the table at 8 and all sit at one end or spread out, as the mood comes. I'm often sitting next to my husband again in this smaller configuration. And each Saturday night, as we put away the Shabbat dishes and special plates and things we use, I look at the table and decide what will be the following week. If we will be four or five and sometimes even six, I might decide to fold the table to its smallest size and enjoy the intimate feel (and the extra room the rest of the week). And sometimes, if I don't know, or I believe we will be six or seven or eight, I'll leave the table ready for eight. It's a silly thing - it takes only moments to change in any direction and yet, it's almost like a preparation for the Sabbath to come, a bit of anticipation that even though the peace and quiet of the Sabbath is leaving us, already, we are thinking about the one that will come soon.

This past Shabbat, Elie was in the army, but my daughter was here. One meal we were 5; one meal we were 7. We left the table at eight and after Shabbat went to my son-in-law's parents to have a Hanukkah party. Between the news and the time, I just left the table as it was.
This morning, as I put the final things away, I looked at the table and realized I don't know what to do. Such a silly thing, I thought to myself. They are bombing Gaza. Schools in the area are closed. The Home Front has issued warnings. Depending on how close you live, you should be ready to enter safe areas in 15 seconds, 30 seconds or 45 seconds, and I'm looking at my table! Maybe it's a mental breakdown, but I can't think what next Shabbat will bring!

If Elie goes north, he was supposed to be home next weekend - so I'd probably leave the table because he likes extra space and that puts us at 6, just one guest and I'll have to open the table again anyway. My daughter and her husband were here this weekend and probably won't come next time - maybe fold the table. Elie said if they stay on base where they are now, even though he isn't coming home today as planned, he probably won't be home. We could be down to 5. If my second son is in Yeshiva, we'll be four - a table that seats 8 would be cold and huge when we want our Sabbath meals to be intimate and warm. Whatever my reasoning, what I feel is that it's too big a decision, too much to concentrate on. Folding it means I really think Elie won't be home and I don't want to deal with this now.

I'm smart enough to know that deep inside of me, the table symbolizes so much more. It's my family - will we be together? Where will the pieces of my family be? Two rockets have hitAshkelon and two more have now landed in the Ashdod area. That's the farthest north they've hit so far and brings tens of thousands more into danger.

Last week we made plans - Elie would be home. His grandparents would come visit. My son-in-law and daughter would come as well. Today I should have been opening my table to ten. I'd even thought about cooking a whole turkey. We'd all be home for lighting on the last night of Hanukkah and my son-in-law would film a clip of Elie talking about what a good kid his brother is. It's the final clip we need to finish off the video for my youngest son's bar mitzvah next month. At first, when we realized Elie couldn't come home, my daughter said that it was just getting too late and maybe we'd have to close the film without Elie.

That was more than I could handle; I'm way too superstitious to deal with a family video without Elie in it. Just no way, I told my daughter, just I can't. She understand but was concerned about the upcoming event and the video being ready on time, and so I told them I would drive to his base and film him there for a few minutes. They talked and my daughter and son-in-law said it was OK and asked if I could give my son-in-law a key to our offices so he could work late hours. I felt so bad asking him to do this, but he was wonderful and agreed.

They'd hold the film until Elie came home this coming weekend. It's cutting it close because Haim needs time to work with the clippings, but they understood. Now Elie probably won't be home; I'll probably go and film him just in case he is sent up north or down south. I don't want to risk his not being in the film so I'll call him soon and coordinate when he's off the checkpoint and ask if I can come down and film those few minutes.

And then I'll try to figure out what to do with the table.

One Menorah's Message

2011-12-28T08:17:00.000+02:00

I got up early to drive Shmulik to the bus station; later I'm driving to the airport to pick up Lauren and Elie (and Aliza who had an overnight with her grandparents). My older daughter is at home with her baby; her husband enjoying this last day of Hanuka with his family before he returns to the army.

Elie is likely sleeping on the plane - or at least I hope he is. Shmulik is on a bus heading towards the base. Davidi is already at the course he is taking to become a volunteer on the ambulance, as his brothers and his older sister did before him. He has spent days and evenings of his entire vacation taking this course.

And I have 10 minutes before I'm going to force myself away from social media and blogs and get to work. I love writing for so many reasons and never have enough time to write for me, on what I want. I'm formatting one client's document (or at least checking over the work of one of my employees) and I'm finishing up writing and editing an amazing book for another client and I don't have a minute free next week...and it's only Wednesday.

Last week, I wrote about why I love Israel and got some great comments. I could write more about that...tons more and never be done. I know that people prefer the personal stories to the politics. I get that and I try. Okay, I don't succeed often enough, but I try. But this is my post...and I want to write.

I'm torn between writing of the missile that slammed into Israel this morning, and a neighbor's menorah. I want to express my anger that Palestinians report the news in nefarious ways. A man was killed and others injured in a strike by the Israeli air force. This is truth and both sides admit it. The man was part of a terrorist cell about to launch an attack on Israel's border; the others were the rest of his team. One Gazan reports that a 13-year-old boy was injured; another says a boy the same age was killed. If true, one wonders what idiot took a boy that age on a terrorist mission and why not one of the Gazans reported what this terrorist cell was doing when they were thankfully stopped.

And I want to write about my neighbor's menorah. It is huge. He placed it on his rooftop for all to see and left a ladder - which he uses to climb up to "light" each candle every night. The menorah is an electric one and stands at least three meters in height (without counting the height of his roof). It does not fulfill the requirements for lighting according to Jewish law, but it certainly covers the issue of publicizing the miracle of Hanuka.

Two or three days ago, a wonderful winter storm brought winds and rain to the Jerusalem area. The menorah blew down. It was more sticks than substance, never meant to withstand more than a gentle breeze and it blew to the ground, taking the ladder with it. This morning as I drove past the neighbor's house, the menorah was again standing tall on the roof with all arms of the candelabra brightly lit against the early morning sky to mark this final day of the holiday.

That's Israel, I thought to myself. You can knock us down (or you can try) and we'll shake ourselves off and stand tall again. We were given the task of being a light unto the nations, and we are. Our technical innovations have changed the world, again and again - computers, medicine, electronic devices. Our soldiers and doctors and nurses fly around the world, quietly and modestly and save lives. A massive earthquake hit Russia in the middle of last night. We don't even know if there are injuries, but a team was ordered to be prepared.

Israel - on my neighbor's roof and before my eyes. Across the street, four Israelis are standing smoking and chatting before the work day, people are rushing down the street, parking their cars and perhaps wondering if they can take off a bit early on this last day of Hanuka. A man hurries past while talking on his cellphone; a horn honks in the distance and three of the people have now gone inside.

Elie and Lauren are on a plane flying home - to a land like no other. As they return, as we all have returned, I know the neighbor will soon put the menorah away. But it will be here next year to shine and send out its message. The menorah, Israelis, and Israel.

Three Years...a Video of Cast Lead

2011-12-27T22:16:00.000+02:00

I recognize so many of the weapons, so much of the equipment...from stories Elie told me...three years...and one of my greatest wishes is that I never, ever, ever have to live through another war...it's a wish that won't come true...and yet I make it anyway.

Eight candles of Hanuka are burning in our window - in a few short hours, Elie will be on a plane back from the US with Lauren...please God, never again.

Elie Has Clothes!

2011-12-27T17:12:00.000+02:00

I know, I know - she's going to kill me, but it was so cute.

Lauren called me a short while ago - they'll be flying home soon. It went so fast and yet it was so long. I missed them both, missed the party that Lauren's parents gave them, missed seeing Elie see the United States...and New York City.

Before Elie went into the army - he had clothes in many colors. He had what we called Shabbat clothes and regular clothes...and that was it. He had warmer clothes in the winter, cooler clothes for the summer. When he went into the army - two things happened. His wardrobe became...well, green; and his body changed. He tightened up, became both thinner and stronger, more toned, healthier.

While he was in the army, he barely bought clothes because he barely needed them. For three years, he wore green clothes and Shabbat clothes and what he had from before worked fine. He bought clothes for family events, but few if any jeans and what he had from before were too big by the time he left the army.

When he got out - he bought some shirts, but not many; some pants - all in the style that was comfortable and easy. The month before Davidi's bar mitzvah, Elie was stuck first on base and then in a war zone - and had no time to buy clothes for the event. He came home on Wednesday, the bar mitzvah was the following weekend.

On Friday, Shmulik went shopping with him and they bought beautiful shirts and sweaters for Elie, but in truth, I was so happy to have him home, I didn't care what he was wearing. Before they left, Lauren said they'd buy him clothes in America and I somewhat jokingly told her that she should go with him and make sure he picked out nice clothes...and apparently they did!

"Elie has clothes!" Lauren told me over the phone. And not the typical black clothes he has chosen to wear but colors! Maybe I can get him to agree to me posting a picture...maybe...

The Shades of Justice

2011-12-26T16:07:00.001+02:00

By now you have probably realized that I firmly believe that Israel and the army have enough detractors around the world to make me decide not to be one. For the most part, we've been very blessed in our "relationship" with the army (and if you are hearing a "but" in there, you are correct). Elie went in and from the beginning, they recognized in him the many facets I knew were buried inside. They found his love of order, his need and ability to command. They encouraged him to think - in the box, over the box, out of the box. They watched his ability to analyze situations and encouraged him; they found his love of fixing things and knowing how they work, and fed that too. All that he was ready and able to give, they took...and gave back so much more

And then came Shmulik - who is so different. He's more social than Elie; he needs that connection. He's quieter and yet more outgoing as well. So similar and yet so different than his older brother. And in this difference, the army too found peace. Shmulik wanted to be in combat. He pushed himself to succeed. What came so easy for Elie, was harder for Shmulik. In some ways, he is physically stronger than Elie, but the discipline was harder, the routine, the "do it because I said so" was tougher for him. It wasn't his desire to lead and when he realized that training for combat was causing him migraines that were more than he could stand, they gave him what he loved doing most. He asked to drive some commander - and they gave him the very commander of the base he was on - still with his friends, and even better...the commander lives in our city so he was home more. Shmulik gained incredible role model as an officer and a person. S. is a man who was severely injured by terrorists - and doctors wondered if he would walk again - today he runs - faster than Shmulik, farther, stronger. Shmulik learned that where the mind wills something, the body listens. They spent hours together driving around and seeing Israel and S. helped Shmulik discovered corners of himself and of the land he had never seen.

There were a few times over the past almost five years that I've been writing that the army faltered. There was the time they wanted to assign Elie to a unit to command female soldiers; and still they handled it well. There was the lone soldier from California who came here to give his all, was injured, and ultimately, the army did not handle it well.

That and other failures prove the Israeli army is, like all institutions of man, subject to the whims and weaknesses of human beings.

Today, I guess, is another failure to an extent. Shmulik serves in a program called Hesder. It is meant to combine learning Torah and Jewish studies with serving in the army. Before and after the active service, he is still considered within the army and, as such, the army calls these boys for a day or more a few times a year. As religious soldiers, they are often called upon to be in the army for Jewish holidays. In Shmulik's case, he was called for Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the calendar, and a fast day.

He and two friends really wanted to be home; they with their parents, Shmulik with his wife. One of the boys, named Chaim (not our Chaim), had a friend who was an officer in the office that handles these boys and assigns them to bases. The officer told his friend when to come, what to do. The idea was that if Shmulik, this Chaim, and another friend waited while others went in, the army would run out of places to send the boys - they regularly get more than they need; and the boys would get the credit for having shown up and been willing to serve, while still spending the holiday at home.

And this is what happened. At around 3:00 p.m. - after hours of waiting, the officer sent Chaim an SMS text message on his phone telling him he could go - all the places were full. That was more than 2 months ago. Suddenly, about 2 weeks later, Shmulik and his other friend (not Chaim), got a message from the army that they were in trouble for not coming when they were called.

They thought it was all a mistake. They went down to explain - the officer denied everything and they were called to a judgement (mishpat). What Shmulik should have done at that point was call his commanding officer, for whom he drove for so many months. But he thought it was not serious, he was truly innocent, after all. So he went back for the judgement, only to find that the "judge" was the officer who was Chaim's friend. Only he was home sick, so Shmulik and his other friend decided it was better to wait and speak to him the following Tuesday and remind him, rather than go with someone new.

On Tuesday, he went...and the officer denied everything and sentenced Shmulik and his friend to 21 days on base. This is a harsh sentence for a soldier who didn't come for one day of service - so said Shmulik, Elie, and every officer who was told. Shmulik's commanding officer asked him why he waited but still tried to help.

Shmulik immediately appealed on the grounds that he was not offered an opportunity to tell his side, was not given an opportunity to call witnesses, etc. The officer (a different one), called up the sentencing officer - and he lied again - saying that he had offered Shmulik every opportunity to speak - had even checked off these options in his report.

In short - a set up.

Shmulik reported to base yesterday - wondering if he would not be home with his wife for three weeks. He was sent to a base near Hebron where he found a wonderful commanding officer. His sentence was immediately reduced to 14 days and he was allowed home last night. He went back today, and was told they would try to send him home each day, if possible. He will come home again tonight.

As to the officer that lied, there are still shades of this story. There were three boys in that car - only two were accused, tried and sentenced to any sort of punishment. Perhaps the boys will yet be able to retrieve the SMS message that was sent to Chaim. Even if this happens, if Shmulik decides to pursue this rather than just accept the 14 days and move on, justice will come too late to undo the harsh sentence.

This is where I explain that I believe with complete faith in justice. There is always justice, always a reckoning. Sometimes, it is immediate. I have seen this many times. Sometimes, it is later and one wonders if the years in between are part of the punishment. And sometimes, justice comes in the world I believe lives on beyond this one.

So, for the next two weeks or so, Shmulik is back in uniform and I am again the mother of a soldier on duty. I don't even know yet what he is doing - I guess I'll find out tonight. But it is a sign of maturity in Shmulik that he accepts this punishment - if not as justice, than as something he must do.

He knows now that he made mistakes - in not calling S. as soon as he got the accusation, in not going in to register as he was supposed to, in not taking a witness with him to the Mishpat, as is his right. These are lessons he learns and really, at 21 years of age, it is a good time to learn them.

Justice has many shades and comes in many forms...but it does come. Perhaps somewhere, there is an officer who will read this and investigate an officer that lied. Perhaps somewhere, there is a young man who will be wiser for having read this. As for Shmulik - it is a very small mountain over which he must climb and with all things, he will be stronger for the climb.

When the Gaza War Started

2011-12-25T14:01:00.000+02:00

I don't know the official day that Israel considered the Gaza War to be over. For me, it ended on January 21, 2009 - when I drove down and brought Elie home. I remember it started in late December with uncertainty and waiting. First the air force went in with greater force to stop the rocket fire. On a single day sixty rockets were fired at Israel, daily in the days before and after, dozens were fired. Schools were hit, houses, a mall. People were killed, injured, terrified. All of Israel knew that the violence coming from Gaza was at a level that even we could not sustain.

I knew or feared war was coming on two fronts - as an Israeli and as a mother. As an Israeli, I knew we were headed to war - where else can a nation go when rockets are being fired daily at cities and you know it won't stop until we go in? Hamas was asking for it...begging for it. Normal people would tell you that the leadership of a country would not want its people to come under fire - but normal governments don't hide themselves in bunkers and taunt other nations to kill their people. We would, I was sure, enter any day, First by air, then by ground. Where artillery would come into it, I did not yet know.

As a mother, at the beginning I was so sure that Elie would not be involved. With the perfect hindsight only living through something can give you, I can almost laugh at myself...almost. Elie was very close to the end of his shift in the center of the country at a check point. They were going to be moving his unit north for training and patrolling. Once north, he would face whatever came at us from Lebanon. From Lebanon, not Gaza. I knew...I knew...I knew nothing, not even that I didn't know.

In those early days, I watched Gaza as an Israeli; I watched Hezbollah as a mother. Elie was going north and rockets were found in Lebanon aimed at Israel. A few days later, doubt began to enter my mind. Elie was still in the center of the country and he started hinting that they may be moving him south. North...south...where was he going? Even on the day they moved him and his unit, I had to ask, "Are you south of where you were...or north?"

Today, I am active on Twitter. Already Gazans are posting about the start of the war. It's true - the war had started by December 25th - our air force was already bombing key targets from which we expected trouble or from which they were firing rockets. Already, Gaza propaganda was at work claiming victims that never existed, claiming attacks that never happened. Like today, the world believed them and ignored the rocket fire - the ones that happened three years ago in December, 2008; and the ones that happened yesterday.

But on December 25th, 2008, Elie was still in the center - the war had started for the air force, but ground forces and artillery were not yet in position. A few days later, On Defense Minister Ehud Barak was unusually eloquent as he spoke for all Israelis:

"There is a time for calm and there is a time for fighting, and now is the time for fighting. The operation will expand as necessary. I don't want to mislead anyone. This won't be easy and it won't be short, but we must be determined. The time has come to act. We do not go to this clash gladly, but neither are we afraid of it. We will not let terrorists hurt our citizens or soldiers. We will do what is necessary. For weeks Hamas and its affiliates lobbed Qassams and Grads and mortar shells on the towns and communities of the South. We have no intention of allowing this situation to continue."

After hearing his words, this was my post for December 27, 2008:

Going to War

My phone beeped no less than 10 times over the Sabbath. As observant Jews, we do not answer the phone; do not read the messages coming through. It was agony hearing the beeps, knowing something was happening, knowing somewhere...probably Gaza...something was starting. At one point, there were several beeps in one hour. A man in uniform was seen driving quickly out of our neighborhood this morning. This is not a regular occurrence in this area, where cars rarely travel on the Sabbath. All in all, it meant something was happening.

"Why didn't you shut your phone?" my daughter asked after another beep. I couldn't possibly when Elie was on base and I knew that Israel would, at some point, react to the constant rocket fire.

"Maybe it's Elie," said my middle son, making my heart skip a beat.

I lost it - control slipped. "Why do you say things like that?" I asked him with more anger than I should have shown. He didn't mean anything and I didn't either. He apologized; I wanted to cry. The phone quieted down later in the afternoon and I began to think that maybe what I'd heard was a clock alarm that kept sounding, though that didn't make much sense. Finally, after the Sabbath ended, I checked my messages.

The first talked of more incoming missiles; then the announcement that Israeli planes were hitting targets in Gaza; then more announcements of rockets hitting Ashkelon, Sderot, and Netivot. A man was killed when his house was hit, others were injured. Claims by the Palestinians of over 195 killed and 300 wounded. Claims, never substantiated, but enough to bring condemnations from many sources - the Italians, the United Nations, the Iranians.

Egypt and the United States have released statements saying that; Hamas' endless rocket attacks brought on this reaction from Israel. Egypt wants it to stop, as do others. The Syrians, the people who butchered 30,000 of their own people, have called Israel's retaliatory operation, "barbaric."

Most of this is just static for us now, outside noises that we can't let distract us. I called Elie as soon as I could. "Have you heard?" Well, that was a dumb question and I knew it before I had even finished asking.

"Where are you?" I asked him. He laughed a bit and told me he's "around." For now, Elie remains where he has been stationed, still in the center. The Defense Minister says this operation will not be short or easy. So far, it is limited to an air offense; ground troops have not entered (yet). I feel so many emotions now. There is no panic, but there is a dull sensation in the pit of my stomach that I can't quite name. There are so many possibilities for the days ahead, that I couldn't begin to name them

For now, I can only question those governments that call on Israel to show restraint, and yet failed to call on Hamas in the past weeks and months and years. If London were being bombed, would Tony Blair call for restraint? What utter nonsense that he calls on Israel to show restraint now - where was he last week and the week before?

Italy's foreign minister, Franco Frattini, did condemn the rocket fire, but called on Israel to beware of civilian casualties in Gaza - and again, where was Frattini last week and the week before that when Hamas AIMED at our civilians. We will do what we can to minimize casualties - we always do.

Egypt has said they will open the Sinai border to allow wounded Palestinians to cross into Egypt for medical aid. How about opening the border for Palestinian civilians to get out of the way? During the Second Lebanon War, Israel warned the civilians to move out of certain areas where Hizbollah is active and there too, Palestinians have to know that we mean to do what we must to stop the rocket fire.

For now, the best way for a civilian in Gaza to avoid being injured is very simple. We are using targeted weaponry, unlike the Palestinians' use of the katyusha and kassem rockets. Their weapons of choice cannot be aimed and therefore have no real targets at all.

Their goal has always been first and foremost to terrorize. Last year, Abu Ahmed, Palestinian Islamic Jihad spokesperson said "The rockets have become accurate, they hardly miss, and most important - they manage to disrupt the Israelis' lives...We definitely planned to increase the rocket fire when the school year opened."

Of course, he was completely lying when he said the rockets are accurate and yet he was completely honest when he admitted that their goal is to disrupt lives. The reality is that these rockets cause terror and harm, mostly because they are so inaccurate. Anything, anyone, can become a target.

By contrast, Israel has already released numerous announcements and pictures showing that we are hitting pre -selected targets. These are military installations, areas used to launch attacks against Israel. If you are in Gaza and don't want to become a casualty, you are lucky. All you have to do is make sure you aren't near a rocket launcher. In fact, you are safer than tens of thousands of Israelis who are sleeping tonight in or near bomb shelters.

No nation can allow its citizens to be bombed regularly. No nation can withstand what we have taken on a daily basis. Whether Israel's leaders can withstand the storm of international protests is yet to be seen; whether it will finally act to defend its own citizens is unknown.

What is known is that Israel's soldiers are ready and want to see this done correctly. They are not celebrating this offensive, as Palestinians have celebrated successful terror attacks in the past. Rather, they are glad that finally, the government has given them the right to do what they have been trained to do. Tonight, Elie sleeps at the base where he has been for the last few months. I do not know where he will be tomorrow or the next day. It could be south to Gaza; it could be north in anticipation of Hizbollah causing trouble on the northern border; or it could be staying where he is while other troops are moved around.

I'm not sure how I'll know, if I'll know, and that is one aspect of what scares me. It's so interesting how quickly the sense of calm can fly away. Tonight, being the mother of an Israeli combat soldier is a very scary thing, but then again, being an Israeli living in Sderot, Ashkelon, Netivot, and so many other places has also been unbearably frightening lately and maybe this action will help.

The news just said Israel is moving tanks into the area. Perhaps the ground forces will move in sooner than I'd thought. This was a huge mistake Israel had made in Lebanon, waiting too long to send them in. In the meantime, Defense Minister Ehud Barak has correctly said there is a time for calm, and there is a time for fighting. As much as I could wish he was wrong, I know that in this, he is right. It is long past the time to have stopped these rockets and missiles and mortar shells, long past the time that diplomacy has failed.

May God bless our air force and our tank division, our navy and our artillery and our ground forces. May each unit be protected, as it seeks to protect. May it accomplish its task and return home safe and whole. May God bless our sons and daughters and keep them safe. The time has come to fight.

The words of Ehud Barak were true three years ago; they are true today:

"There is a time for calm and there is a time for fighting, and now is the time for fighting. The operation will expand as necessary. I don't want to mislead anyone. This won't be easy and it won't be short, but we must be determined. The time has come to act. We do not go to this clash gladly, but neither are we afraid of it. We will not let terrorists hurt our citizens or soldiers. We will do what is necessary. For weeks Hamas and its affiliates lobbed Qassams and Grads and mortar shells on the towns and communities of the South. We have no intention of allowing this situation to continue."

Life is Still Not Boring...

2011-12-25T12:15:00.001+02:00

Every year around this time, I look back at the posts I made just before and during the Gaza War. It is like scratching a scab. You know you shouldn't; you know you'll make it bleed again if you do; but the itch is there and you scratch.

The candles are burning in the window - we lit the fifth candle. Elie isn't home. He is visiting the United States for the first time since he was a little boy attending his uncle's wedding. He wasn't home the Hanuka before the Gaza War. It is strange reading back, knowing how wrong I was. In this post dated December 25, 2008 called "Life is Never Boring" - I was sure that Elie was heading up north. Sixty rockets had been fired at Israel in a single day and we were sure war was coming. We were right. I was sure Elie would not be involved. I was wrong.

For those of you who have been me through the long haul, I apologize for reposting. It's just interesting to me to see how life has a way of surprising you. We were days away from the war...days away...

Life is Never Boring (December 25, 2007)

So, it seems that the southern area of Israel is "heating up." Yesterday, more than 60 rockets and mortars were fired at Israel. Fifty-seven people were taken to the hospital suffering from shock - half of these were children. The High Court is preventing Israel from using artillery into Gaza. Artillery is, for the most part, if done correctly, accurate. But the definition of accurate in the field is different than in the city. A little bit off may still be considered a direct hit, but in a crowded city, this could even mean the house next door.

One could argue and say that if you know your neighbor is firing missiles at a civilian city and you know that city is in a country that has one of the strongest armies in the region, if not the strongest, you probably should consider leaving your home for a while. Possessions are all well and good, but at the end of the day, it is your family that matters. Stop your neighbor, or leave.

But the High Court doesn't think this way, the way of human nature. They bow before the greater force of international pressure, as does our government and many of our political leaders and so artillery may not be used in the military operation the army is no doubt planning. As I explained to Elie, for years Hamas and other terrorist groups have freely shot rockets and mortars at our cities, but soon the government will be forced to respond. Not because it is the right think to do - if that was the reason, they would have done it years ago. No, the government will finally respond because we are in the midst of an election and they don't want further evidence of their inability to stop the rockets.

For Elie, this probably means little. His unit is shortly shifting back to training and will likely not be involved in Gaza, even if an artillery unit is chosen to backup ground forces going into Gaza. But life is never boring in Israel. Each time I've thought Elie is going into a "worry-free" zone, something happens to change the zone, change the worry, or up the "free."

I thought Elie would shortly be going into training. I was worried about the cold more than anything, but even there, was relatively calm. Yesterday, the Lebanese army came across eight Katyusha rockets aimed at Israel. The timers were set to go off automatically late Thursday night. Whether by divine intervention, luck, or an intelligence leak, the Lebanese found and de-activated the rockets. This could be an isolated incident, or it could be the beginning of Hizbollah's attempt to once again open up a second front and force the Israeli army to divert or at least divide its attention from Gaza alone.

If something happens in the north in the next few weeks, this is solidly where Elie will be and so the worry-free is gone. Not yet replaced by worry, certainly nothing beyond it. All it means, as it has really meant from the first day I drove Elie to Ammunition Hill in Jerusalem to catch to the induction center in Tel Aviv, is that nothing is for certain, everything and anything can happen when you have a son in the army. So, today is Friday, tonight we will light the sixth Hanukkah candle. Elie will not be home. We'll celebrate the holiday as we always have, minus a part of my heart and my eldest son.

Shabbat shalom, Elie and chag samayah - happy holiday. May it come in peace and pass in peace, this day, this week, this month, this year.

Zchut Achim - In the Merit of the Brothers

2011-12-24T22:05:00.001+02:00

There is a concept in Judaism - Zchut Avot - in the merits of the fathers. When we pray for something we need or want but worry that God may not find us worthy, we call upon the merits of the fathers. If not for me, than please - for Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob...for Sarah, Rivkah, Leah and Rachel.

Personally, I prefer to stand on my own merit - or what there is of it, but there have been times that I have begged to God and asked Him - if not for me...

I've been wondering about the blog now that I don't really have any soldiers in active duty. My son-in-law is in the army, stationed at a base on the top of a mountain. His position is one that will help him with his future direction in video editing. He's very talented. But it isn't a combat position and doesn't involve "action" as such. I don't want this to be a purely political blog.

I have an army-thing with Shmulik, which I'll post soon, but this one is more about Davidi. He turns 16 soon. I started this blog six weeks before Elie went into the army. I guess I've sort of made the decision to continue this blog and in doing so, I want to begin introducing Davidi because already decisions he is making shape his future interests and at some point in the next year or so, the army will reach out to him and begin the process. He won't formally receive a draft request for some time, but the talks will begin in school and among his friends.

It is the Hanuka vacation and Davidi is doing something that his older sister, Elie and Shmulik all did - he is taking a first aid course that trains him to volunteer with the local ambulance squad. Eighty kids from our city asked to be included in the course; only 25 were accepted. Of the ones who were rejected, Davidi knows two.

"Why were they rejected?" I asked him.

Well, one goes to school far away and so will likely not be available to volunteer on a regular basis. "And the second?"

Well, during the interview, they asked him why he wanted to join and his answer was, "because I like blood." Yes, I can see why they turned him down, I answered with a laugh. Then I asked Davidi what he had answered. "I told him that my brothers had all taken the course and I wanted to volunteer as well."

They asked him who his brothers were; one remembers my oldest daughter taking the courses and volunteering. Davidi was accepted. He comes home telling me all sorts of medical things - how to help a baby breathe; how to hold a baby when giving it medical care, etc. "Just don't try that on the baby," I told him as we waited for his sister to come visit with her infant for the weekend.

In the merit of his brothers and likely on his own account, Davidi has chosen to spend his winter vacation taking this course - every day, for the entire vacation (and even tonight, Saturday night), he'll spend his time learning how to save lives, how to help others.

The ambulance squad trains them to think of safety first; they are taught that an injured volunteer just means more people to treat. They do not run into buildings that are on fire, nor are they supposed to enter areas that might be dangerous unless they have an army escort.

Gilad Shalit - It's all in the Picture

2011-12-22T20:00:00.002+02:00

This is a picture of Gilad Shalit. It is being spread around Facebook - presumably taken in his parents' kitchen. It is from last night - as he lights the second candle of Hanuka - the first time he has been home to do so in six years...

There is much we can learn from this picture - here's some:

1. Gilad is home - and this picture was released by his family. It was taken by someone in the room with him - not by press lurking about trying to steal his privacy. As such, it is a gift from Gilad and his family to all of Israel. Thank you, it is saying - thank you for leaving me, leaving us, to this time. We know you care - so here's a glimpse of our son...isn't he so beautiful. Thank you, Israel.

2. He looks good. Doesn't he? Thin, but so much more alert. Look at his eyes - they don't seem haunted.

3. He still has a long way to go - look at his left hand. He's got a brace on his hand. This is likely the arm that has undergone surgery, the one in which he had shrapnel for five years while Hamas refused him medical treatment.

4. He's lighting the Hanukah candles. Hanukah is about a small group defeating a much larger army. There is an irony here. Gilad was one; the large group here might well be Hamas and the 1,000+ murderers, terrorists and thugs they demanded as payment for Gilad. There is victory in this simple picture.

This week we released the last 550 prisoners. One attempted to kill a famous rabbi in Israel...an old man. Upon his release, the prisoner called for the rabbi's death and said he was not sorry. Of the 550, more than 370 were like this prisoner, convicted of attempted murder. They are different from the first batch only in that they failed to accomplish their mission.

As with the first group, I can only say again that I would rather live in a land that would smile in joy over a simple picture of Gilad in his mother's kitchen lighting the Hanukah menorah, than live in a land that celebrates the return of 370 attempted murderers.

Tonight, after a day with my youngest daughter, I sit in my living room as the candles burn. Three candles - as we start the third day of this holiday. Hanukah is the season of our triumph - it is as simple as that.

Happy Hanukah, Gilad - and thanks for giving us another glimpse of your recovery and return.

A Chanukah Message

2011-12-20T22:11:00.001+02:00

Some of our holidays are steeped in tradition and law; some are more about joy and fun. They are less serious, less heavy on the soul. Chanukah is a great holiday. On the fun side, it's about greasy foods you try to limit the rest of the year: we eat fried potato pancakes, jelly donuts and chocolate. It's about light and sound: we light an additional candle each night, filling the room with candlelight and song. We gather in the corner of the room. My husband and children each light a menorah and we sing both the blessings and other songs.

On the serious side, Chanukah is about so much more.

The first year, Elie was in the army, I took my three younger children to the shore on the last day of the holiday. I wrote about it here - A Candle and a Wave (amazing pictures).

His second year, I wrote about his lighting the menorah at a checkpoint in Where you light a candle. This was the Chanukah right before the Gaza War...and he didn't make it home the entire time because tensions were escalating; war was coming.

His last year in the army, I was calm enough to write more about the holiday than about him. I wrote about Chanukah and the IDF.

So - this year, relatively calm still, I'll write a bit more on the holiday, perhaps, and only a little on the army. Chanukah is the story of weak triumphant; of good over bad; of freedom; of principle; of light. An evil king of the Greeks began oppressing the Jews. His name was Antiochus and he used his power to persecute the Jews in their land. He forbade many of our religious practices; demanded that pigs be sacrificed in the Holy Temple.

In an uprising against the ancient Greeks and this persecution of our religion and our lives, the Maccabees, led by Mattathias and his son Judah, triumphed and the Temple was rededicated. There were then, as there are today, miracles that happened - unexplained things that worked one way when they couldn't possibly. A small army defeats a much larger one in battles that contradict all laws of war. A simplified version, but essentially, a small jug of oil - enough for only one day's service was found in the Holy Temple - it would take 7 more days before more oil would be ready...with faith, the Jews lit the oil for the one day and it lasted for all the full 8 days until more was ready. And so today, tonight, we light the menorah.

Chanukah is about triumph, about dedication. It is about our reclaiming our land and living here when evil tried to remove us. It really is, always has been, and likely always will be, as very simple as that.

We are here in our land - we will not be removed. Not by the Ancient Greeks, not by the Ancient Romans. Not by the Ottomans, the British or the Palestinians. Not even by the Iranians, the UN, or Obama. The light of Chanukah that was kindled thousands of years ago and continues to burn bright. It was lit again tonight in my living room, in the windows of my neighbors, in the streets of my city and of Jerusalem. Everywhere, from house to house, the message is there. We live here, in the land of miracles and each day, there are miracles.

Four missiles were found in Lebanon today, before they were able to be fired at Israel. A car was targeted by Arab gunmen near Rechalim; no one was injured. Three firebombs were thrown at a Jewish village and a car north of Jerusalem - no injuries.

We live in a land of miracles, under the Great Protector, who watches over Israel.

Gilad is Home

2011-12-20T18:05:00.000+02:00

I haven't written much about Gilad Shalit in a long time - mostly because there is very little to tell. Amazingly enough, the Israeli media is honoring its promise to leave Gilad alone and let him heal. That alone is an amazing story. The family slowly releases bits and pieces. Last week a recording of Gilad thanking those who fought to bring him home, telling them that he would always be a prisoner - a prisoner of gratitude.

Before that, we heard that he underwent an operation to remove shrapnel not treated from the time of his kidnapping. He isn't ready to come out among people in large crowds, but he's doing well. A few weeks ago, I saw this sign on a bus - there were many of them, all over the country.

It's message is simple: "Gilad, we are with you for the length of the journey." Simple but true. I disagree with releasing 1,026 for one. But above all, I am so grateful that the choice was never mine. I did not have to look into Aviva and Noam's faces and say no. I didn't have to tell them that the cost was too high, for a son that was priceless to them...and to us.

I fear what will come from the 1,026; and what will come from the dangerous precedent it set. I know that today we released another 550 prisoners - the last of this agreement. I know that among these 550, more than 370 were convicted of attempted murder. It isn't that they didn't want to kill Israelis - only that they failed.

But I can't argue about the wonderful part of this - Gilad is home and yes, we are blessed that we can be with him, and he with us, all the length of the journey we all take into the future.

Favorite Memories

2011-12-20T08:48:00.000+02:00

I was talking to Shmulik yesterday about life after the army, marriage, and a bit about his memories. He was driving and somehow we got into talking about the scariest moment ever driving. I know clearly what was mine...I was driving up north to the Golan Heights just after dawn to pick Elie up and bring him home for Shabbat.

He had accumulated too much stuff and had planned to start bringing some of it home after about 6 months up there...I don't really remember how long it was, but it was a while...and suddenly, the army shifted gears and told him he was moving to a training base in the south. He made a comment about how he had no idea how he was going to manage getting all his stuff home and to the new base and I decided to take some time for myself. I woke up around 4:30 a.m. and started the 2+ hour drive, aiming to be at his base before 7:00 a.m.

I was cruising along fast on the deserted road, enjoying the growing light peaking out over the Jordanian hills. I saw a swirl of wind and dust kick up a cloud off the road to my right and then saw a much larger cloud ahead of me blurring the road.

There was that split second before the panic hit - when I thought about how cool it was that this cloud swirl was actually touching the road...when I realized the cloud had hundreds of little feet...the Arabs were moving their sheep across the road and I was expected to stop and yield.

I did - fast and no damage to sheep, car, me.

Shmulik laughed at the memory - and told me some of his scary moments. Of fog so thick, he could barely see and the fear that a driver would come along and hit them from the rear and some other memories of places he had been to while in the army.

"What do you think of your time in the army?" I asked him.

The one word he thought of was "fun" - he was a driver for a combat commander. He saw so much of Israel, drove the roads in good weather and bad, night and day. Fun. No, for those who would write to say there is something wrong - for most of the army Shmulik didn't carry a gun (though his commander did and Shmulik often had "custody" of it and was trained to use it. Fun - because he loves driving and got to see many places.

There are many natural springs in Israel - less than in many places, but still some beautiful places. His commanding officer sometimes took him to places like this. "Did you go swimming?" I asked him - some are indeed deep enough to swim in.

"No, but I could wash my face, or step into it." Fun. Nice memories.

That's what life is - a collection of good memories. Tonight begins the holiday of Hanuka. It is the essence of who we are - outnumbered, but determined. Victorious against evil. Triumphant in our land. One tradition is to eat jelly donuts - they've been on the store shelves for weeks and I've resisted buying them. Today, the Israeli army will distribute 385,000 donuts to our soldiers. Fun.

Holes....Seriously

2011-12-18T22:52:00.000+02:00

Quick follow up - last week, I told you about my youngest son leaving his backpack on the train (Blowing things up). Well, with a little bit of pressing, he's added to the list of things that were inside:

Keys to his dorm room
Sunglasses - red and black, not cheap ones...

"A book...", he said.

"A book?" I counter, thinking of the hundreds of shekels I spent on his school books this year and how much time it took and how many stores we visited.

"Oh"...he said as he lowers his head.

"What book?" I ask, trying to brace myself.

He looks a bit green. It was his sister's book. She lent it to him, telling him it was one of her favorite books.

"What book?" I ask again.

"Holes," he answers.

Louis Sachar's Holes.

There has to be an irony there in the police blowing up a book called Holes.

My daughter didn't really see the humor in it, but she did take it quite well. Me...I have to go find her another copy to replace the old one...

Why I Love Israel

2011-12-18T09:52:00.006+02:00

I write too often about the sad and the bad and not enough about the amazing and wonderful. After each Shabbat of down time, one of the first things I do is check the news. I've been a news-aholic for more years than I can remember. The first news I saw was of a terrorist attacking a soldier at the entrance to my city. Two rockets fired over Shabbat.

Only later did I go back and look again. The headlines speak of an Egyptian protester who was beaten to death by the police; of 30 bodies of dead Syrian protesters that were dumped and found; and finally, of a protest in Tel Aviv (peaceful, of course) for women's rights. Someone left a comment (thank you for being honest) saying that attacks such as this one (Ambulance Sirens) are why they are afraid to bring their family to live here.

So, it is time, once again, to explain that despite it all, there is no place I would rather be, no place greater where my children should be raised. The third of my five children is about to get married here. My soon-to-be future daughter-in-law is the first to choose, as we did, to come live here. The other two were born here.

So lest you think, even for a moment, that we sacrifice anything (including our personal safety) by living here, let me tell you the opposite is true. There is no safer place for the Jews than here in Israel. There is no better place to raise our children as fine human beings, as strong Jews, as Israelis - than here.

I have never, in all my life, felt safer than I do here in Israel - as a Jew, as an Israeli, but as a woman too. I can walk outside at night, at 3:00 a.m. without hesitation, without fear. I can send my 11-year-old daughter out - even in the middle of the night, without hesitation, without fear. I know that everywhere my children go, they have eyes on them. Not eyes of evil waiting to attack them, but eyes of protection (and I'm actually not even talking about God's eyes).

If my child is not sure where she is - without hesitation, she can go over to anyone and ask. Very few children in Israel are hurt or abducted by strangers here. There are no children's faces on milk containers here - not because the companies won't agree, but because there is no need.

My country rarely experiences extreme cold and even the heat is almost always bearable. Even in the winter, there are days like today where there isn't a cloud in the sky, the sun is bright, and the air so comfortable. Every day, we do acts of kindness, often without even thinking twice. Today, I drove through my neighborhood and saw a man who indicated he wanted a ride.

In America is it as stupid to hitchhike as it is to give a hitchhiker a ride. Thankfully, in Israel, this is not true. The fact is, I am very upset with the man who stood there waiting for a ride. In the recent past, he hurt my husband and my family with his insensitivity on two separate occasions, without shame, without guilt, without apologies. I have to admit, I hesitated for a fraction of second before I pulled to the side.

Without the shame I think he should have had, he asked if I was going past the mall. I answered that I was, and gave him a ride. I didn't start a conversation, nor did he. The air was uncomfortable in the car and I felt no reason to ease the short time until we got close and I asked whether he wanted the mall or the front of the city.

He said he was surprised by the traffic - a brief conversation. I let him off at the stop he wanted and he thanked me and wished me a good day. If there is anything that I did wrong, it was in that fraction of a second in which I hesitated. Giving him the ride is typical of Israel and Israelis - little acts of kindness that we do. This is my country.

Last night, the Chief of Staff of Israel's army went out to a restaurant for dinner. While he was there, a woman experienced a health emergency. Benny Gantz approached and helped her while his body guards stood close by. The Chief of Staff, the highest position in the army, stayed there until the ambulance arrived. An act of kindness - my country.

Last night, Elie volunteered his time, as he does very often, to be on call for the ambulance squad in Maale Adumim. This morning, my youngest daughter took her turn as a crossing guard again to safely help younger children cross the street.

Last night, Gilad Shalit slept in his bed, in his parents' house. What nation in the world, other than Israel, would release 1,026 people - among them hundreds of murderers, for one young man? Today, Israel will release the last 550 of the list - among them more than 370 who were convicted of attempted murder. What country, other than Israel?

Would you trust Hamas to keep their word on anything? I wouldn't and yet Hamas trusted and the world knew that Israel would keep its promise to release the second group. And we are doing it. Should we? Is it in our national interest? Highly doubtful, and yet we do. We'll get nothing for this release. The rockets won't stop and some, probably many, of these 550 will return to terror. It is their way.

I love Israel because we hold ourselves to the highest standards of behavior and though I am continually disappointed that the world does not see this, I know that we do it for ourselves, not for them. This morning, I gave a man a ride to the mall. Ultimately, I did it because I'd rather act as I did, than act as he did.

He will have to live with his actions; but at least I know I can live with mine. A friend recently said to me that thinking back, she is amazed at how many family events we have had in the last few years. It is true and I recognize and thank my blessings every day.

My daughter met and married a wonderful young man - and now they have an amazing baby that just melts my heart every time I hold him. My son married a wonderful girl, the girl he has loved since before the army, before it was really acceptable for them to have made this connection. It was always her and that means so much.

Elie has met and will soon marry a most amazing young woman who took the time to remind me, "I was yours before I was his" because I have loved her almost from the moment I met her last year (and I just realized recently she has blue eyes!).

And my two younger children are blessed with their own celebrations and joys. Davidi has grown so tall - he fulfilled the promise I wanted for him - he's taller than Elie. He's so beautiful...and he has blue eyes too! For someone who never thought having blue eyes was genetically possible - I have two blue-eyed children! And Aliza grows secure and happy and free.

Weeks after we'd come to Israel, a 6-year-old Elie was talking to my mother-in-law about living in Israel, "Savta [grandma], I'm so free. I'm free." He said. That freedom is the greatest gift I have given my children by moving here when they were young and by living here all of their lives. There are national freedoms - that allow peaceful protests as happened last night in Tel Aviv and in the last few months in many places in Israel. There is no "Arab Spring" here in Israel because we don't need it.

And if police cross the line into violence as they did yesterday in Cairo and beat a protester to death, the Israeli courts and justice system will deal harshly with them; the government will not protect or excuse their behavior.

These are instances of national freedom - and in this sense, Israel is the only free country in the Middle East.

But more than national freedom, we are free as individuals. We live free of fear in a way that is unimaginable to most Americans. I have stood in the center of Jerusalem with a friend from the States and listened to her speak on the cellphone to her husband and tell him how peaceful it was. Cars honk, people yell at each other for how they drive, a store owner is nasty because the kids are blocking customers from coming in.

And then, a small child approaches the counter and carefully counts out his change to buy some candy. He is half a shekel short (less than 15 cents). The next person in line is just as likely to take out a half a shekel as the store owner is to wave away the money, smile at the child and wish him a good day. That is the Israel I love and the one that will bring me to tears a hundred times a week.

Yes, a security guard was injured at the entrance to my city yesterday. But I live a life time of days in which stories like the little boy come true. For those alone, I would choose again to live here in this beautiful land that cherishes life, its children, its soldiers, the sun and the land.

I love you, Israel - more and more each day, each month, each year.

Ambulance Sirens...

2011-12-17T19:23:00.000+02:00

The Shabbat came, as it often does, in a mixture of cooking, cleaning, showering and preparing. It was a nice quiet "family" affair. Lauren and Elie were here, but Shmulik and Amira were not. For the first time in ages, the table was left small - only six places. It was quiet, it was nice.

A bit after 1:30 we finished lunch and cleaned up; a short time later, we all went for our afternoon naps. Many in Israel still consider the 2:00 p.m. - 4:00 p.m. "siesta" a quiet time. It is a custom my family never really adopted when we moved to Israel, but one that someday, somehow, I hope to keep. I love the idea of a nap. Maybe I'm getting old. Or, maybe I just work too hard.

The one time a week we get that nap - is on Shabbat. My afternoon horizontal is almost a critical element in my ability to sleep 3-4 hours a night most other days. Yes, I should sleep more...that too in on the "someday" plan.

I don't know what time I finally finished and went off to rest; I do remember hearing a siren. An ambulance siren. Only one, not prolonged, it faded from my memory.

Until after the Sabbath ended and I saw the news. At 1:50, an Arab approached the entrance to Maale Adumim, mumbled some words in Arabic, took out a knife, and attacked the security guard at the entrance to the city. He wounded the guard lightly in the neck before running off to Azaria, the Arab neighborhood less than a kilometer away.

I have been to Azaria - to buy a kitchen cabinet for Shmulik's apartment; to look at some other things. My husband sometimes goes there, though I ask him not to. This time, Azaria came to us.

The guard was taken to the hospital and should be fine. He works for a security company - not the one that Elie and Shmulik do. They guard one of three sites inside Maale Adumim, not the city entrances. There was a time I was traumatized by the should of sirens. I would listen or try to see how many there were. One was a car accident, I would tell myself, or hopefully a woman giving birth. Two was a bad accident. Three was always a terror attack.

I have learned to relax with the sirens - it has taken me years. I am so much calmer than I used to be - mostly because buses aren't really exploding every day here as they were a few years back. Last year there was an attack near a bus and a tourist was killed; but mostly today's terrorist attacks are less organized - more a momentary thought by an Arab who decides to follow through.

The tractor driver who decided to smash his tractor into a bus...actually, I think there were three or four of these attacks; the driver who smashed his BMW into Elie's unit, numerous rock attacks and more. These are all symptoms of an Arab deciding today was a good day to attack, a good day to kill, and often, a good day to die.

The Arab that attacked Elie's unit was angry because his family refused to allow him to marry his cousin. I don't know what the motive for today's attack was. I know only that I don't want to return to the days where I listen to sirens and wonder what has exploded and where. I like this small slice of normal. I like drifting off to sleep thinking, hoping that the siren I hear is only a woman in labor.

Tonight, Elie is on call for the ambulance squad. If they need him, he will go. He has never been to the site of a terrorist attack...I can only continue to pray that he never will be. Shmulik has been to the site, but only hours later, after the bodies of the innocent were removed, and I believe he was kept far enough back, as the driver of the senior army official onsite, so as not to have seen too much. I might be wrong; I hope I am. I can only pray that he too, and all my children, will never know of such agonies.

Today was a small taste of the ironies. You think it is the peaceful Shabbat - and not so far away, a man is attacked. For what reason? Other than hatred, if the Arab is caught, we will likely hear of some twisted family logic that led him to this spot to prove God only knows what.

This time, happily, the guard was only lightly injured. That's how we live sometimes - focusing on the "this time" and hoping the next time won't come. Instead, we wish each other a Shavua tov - a good week...

This week, Elie flies with Lauren to the United States - his first time since he was a small boy. Lauren wants to show him so much of a land that will be so foreign to him. The language, he will understand. The rest will be interesting to hear about.

Reserve Duty and Rockets

2011-12-15T13:06:00.001+02:00

People sometimes write to me to thank me for posting regularly about recent rocket attacks. They tell me that they do not hear about them in the international media. CNN all but ignores the missiles unless there are casualties; BBC will report on the missiles only in a slight and buried reference to why our air force bombed a target in Gaza.

If you follow my Twitter account (@asoldiersmother), you'll see that I regularly post almost all rocket attacks. I miss some - but during waking hours...I try to take a moment and post - like the one a short time ago. I do this so that the next time Israel goes into Gaza in a full scale war, at least there will be people who know the obvious - when you shoot 25 rockets at a country in a single day, you can't expect anything but a military response.

Most rocket attacks fall in open fields. Other than the time during the war when Elie was positioned in an open field, this is a thing of relief, a thing of gratitude. Few people outside Israel realize how often these attacks occur and how disruptive they are. If the Color Red siren sounds, people in Sderot have 15 seconds to find cover. There isn't time to get to a bomb shelter - at most, children can dive for cover under their desks...and pray. People in Beersheva have a bit over 45 seconds, not much more.

Yesterday, Elie did a day of reserve duty. I dropped him off at a base where most of the unit's equipment is stored and picked him up on my way back from a client in the north. This gave me a driver as I am still trying to rest my ankle, and gave me a chance to hear about what he did. Mostly, he was filling in a day because he was minus one and with the day he did, he is pushed into another category of Reserve Duty - one that gives him a "bonus" of about 2,000 NIS that will be paid to him next year.

What's the connection between rockets and reserve duty? They come more often than you realize and interrupt life. At some point, because it happens often enough, you forget that this isn't normal, that people outside of Israel don't really live with this regularly.

Both are realities of our lives. Perhaps when there are less rockets - a euphemism of the ongoing war we have with the Palestinians and the violence they regularly direct our way instead of heading our repeated requests for negotiation - perhaps then, there will be less reserve duty as well.

RT @AvitalLeibovich: Three rockets launched from #gaza into #Israel a few minutes ago. A total of 45 rockets and mortars since beginning of the month.#terror

Reverse-Engineering the Drone? I don't think so...

2011-12-14T20:02:00.000+02:00

Sometimes, something strikes me in the funniest way. Maybe I'm underestimating my enemies, but I got a kick out of reading Iran's threat to reverse-engineer the American drone it apparently captured. It's really easy to take something apart - that doesn't mean you can put it back together.

My husband is a whiz at all things related to ...well, all things. He can rebuild cars, fix refrigerators, jewelry, furniture, computers. You name it, he can fix it. By contrast, well, I'm a good writer. I say that to explain that I am not good at fixing things. Even if I could take something apart - there is no evidence to suggest that I'll manage to put it back together.

I'm the type of person who could dismantle a chair and end up with a table...or dismantle a toaster and end up with...well, a pile of parts.

I do not believe that one nation consists of people who are inherently smarter than another nation; I do not believe that one people is better than another. I do not believe all good people belong to any one religion or that all bad people, for that matter, belong to one either.

I don't believe all Arabs are bad; I don't believe all Palestinians are bad; I don't believe all Iranians are bad, and I don't believe all Jews or Israelis are good.

Having said all that, I do believe that certain nations and populations have invested in education more than others and the results show. There is a reason why Israel is a center for innovation and development, why most of the world's largest corporations have research and development centers here in Israel and why we recently received our 10th Nobel prize. And the same is true of the United States.

Getting back to the drone, I do not believe the Iranians are capable of creating the technology behind the stealth drone that went down recently. Perhaps capable is the wrong word. They may be capable of it from an intellectual point of view - but they don't have the knowledge, the technology. I don't believe that is a racist attitude - but rather a societal judgement. If your society focuses on development, technology, education - the results will show.

In any event, I keep seeing the picture in my mind of a bunch of men hovering around the drone in some bunker in Iran. They circle it, take pictures with it and when it all settles down, they stare at it long and hard, wondering how to approach it. Finally, having no choice, they begin to take the thing apart.

Reverse-engineer it? I really doubt they'll accomplish more than creating a vast pile of pieces. It certainly is what would happen if I tried to dismantle it. And as I think of this picture in my mind, I hear the voices...

"Mahmoud, WHERE did this screw come from again?"
"Bassem, are you sure this thing came from the drone? I think it fell out of my chair.'
"Aiwa...how come there's no seat in this thing? No wonder it crashed!"
"Mahmoud, what do you think this wire did?" And Mahmoud answers, "I don't know, where did you take it from?" and Bassem looks at Mahmoud, looks at the drone, looks at the wire in his hand..."never mind."
"Hey, this computer doesn't have Minesweeper on it!"
"They didn't leave any piece of paper with the password to this thing." - "Try admin? 1234?" says Abdul
"Maybe they use these things for windshield wipers?" Bassem asks and Mahmoud answers, "Bassem, stop taking things apart until we figure out where the...I think it just barked."
"Does this say, 'Made in China'? They made the drone in China?"
"Oops...these little plastic parts are so fragile!" ... "BASSEM!!!!!"

Blowing things up...

2011-12-13T23:42:00.000+02:00

I hope this comes out with as much humor as I am feeling...I really do.

So, the way I told Elie about this was..."Elie, you were my first child to blow something up..."

He looked around, "what happened?" he asked. He wasn't concerned. I'm sure he could tell from my voice that this was not a serious matter. His younger brother was turning red and so I continued.

"And Davidi," I said, "is the first of my children to have something blown up."

"Huh? What did you do?" Elie asked.

Well, Davidi took the bus to the train to school today. Jerusalem's light rail is finally finished and running through the city. It provides an interesting backdrop when you see the modern train cruising past the ancient walls of the Old City; it's fun to see it go along the tracks. It's still hard to forgive the train for the horrible traffic jams and the damage it did to businesses for the last few years, but the center of Jerusalem is bustling again and so I try to put aside the bad memories...

So, Davidi took the train because it goes very close to his school. And, he forgot his backpack on the train. He called them; they told him that they had it. He took the train from one end to the other, to the terminal where the trains start, and the woman handed him a lady's purse.

No, that's not mine, he told the woman.

She handed him a red bag. "No," he told her politely, "it was a black bag with red and black sunglasses inside."

"What time did you leave it on the train?" she asked him.

"10:00," he answered.

"That was probably one of the two bags they blew up today."

I'm not sure what the protocol is from here. We wait, I guess, to see if somehow it wasn't his bag, his sunglasses and worst of all, the keys to his locker.

Uh oh...and as I asked him one last time what was in there. He suddenly remembered that perhaps a book that he borrowed from someone was in there. He's not sure what else.

I'm not sure why I find this so funny. The sunglasses were good ones, the book will have to be replaced.

But as I tried to comfort him, I told him about one of the beliefs I have taken into myself. Each Yom Kippur, as the holy day arrives, Jews perform a short ceremony at home in which they circle something around their heads (most Jews today take a few coins; some still follow the tradition of circling a live chicken around their heads) and say a prayer that whatever bad God has planned for us in the coming year, let it instead find its way somewhere else - to the chicken, to the money.

The concept is - take my money, God, please, don't take my health. The ceremony is called "kapparah" - and once when a cousin lost her wedding and engagement rings, instead of being upset (I think I was upset enough for both of us), she said, "Kapparah," and then explained, "every year, I ask God to take my possessions, my money and to leave me with my health. Now, God's taken my rings, should I complain? Kapparah."

It was almost an earth-shaking experience. How can we complain about anything, if we take it in this light? Kapparah - let this little thing atone for what I've done wrong, rather than exacting the full punishment. Kapparah.

As I spoke to Davidi, I told him - Kapparah. A backpack, sunglasses - Kapparah - you're fine, you're health - better than your bag. They blew it up, you see because we live in a society where people leave bombs in bags and so we have these robot things that slowly approach a suspicious object and with its robotic hand, it pulls the bag away - out of the train and to an open area.

And then the police call out to everyone to stop - and the robot shoots into the bag to set the "bomb" off. Most times, someone's lunch or weekend bag becomes the casualty. This time, it was Davidi's bag - kapparah.

He's fine. He's healthy. He's tall and strong...and we need to buy him new sunglasses. Kapparah!

Lila Lavan - White Nights

2011-12-10T23:12:00.000+02:00

Lila is Hebrew for "night". Lavan is Hebrew for "white." So, lila lavan (לילה לבן) means "white night." For the longest time, I thought it was an Israeli term, maybe even a secret one. Elie would tell me he had a lila lavan; or Shmulik would be out all night. Or, there were rocket attacks from Gaza and we knew that it would be a lila lavan.

Lila lavan means no sleep - all night action. I looked it up on Google and there it is. It isn't an Israeli term - references are made to nights of partying. All night of action. It isn't secret.

But in Israel, lila lavan means a night in which our forces are at work, a night of no sleep. It means a night in which the residents of the south will be hearing booms - ours targeting rocket launchers, ours when the Iron Dome explodes into action, and theirs, when all our efforts fail and their rockets hit our cities.

Thirteen rockets have been fired at Israel in the last 24 hours. Close to half a million people were the target. I try and try to get one simple fact across to the many people I correspond with on Facebook, Twitter, and here on this blog.

This conflict is not about numbers - numbers can be manipulated. This conflict is not about whether their rockets are accurate or ours always hit their targets. This conflict is about culture - a culture that has no problem targeting infants, children, whole cities. Their culture that says Jihad is just and martyrdom honorable. And our culture that says differently.

When Hamas fires a rocket, they have no clue where it will land, just as we don't. They aim in the general direction of one of our cities and fire. If they are having a good day, a school in Beersheva will be hit. If they are having a bad day - the rocket will land harmlessly in an open field. Terror accomplished; injury miraculously averted.

When we fire, we aim at a training camp, a terrorist cell about to launch rockets. If we are having a good day, we will obliterate the training camp, eliminate the rocket-firing squad. If we are having a bad day, shrapnel from our missile will hit a building or worse.

In this simple fact, is all there is to know. We do not target innocents, they routinely do. We do not celebrate the loss of their lives; they dance in the streets and hand out candies to celebrate the losses on our side.

Perhaps, the difference is also in the words lila lavan. It is not a night of joy and celebration but a night of no sleep, of action, of noise. On a good night, all our soldiers come back to base in safety having successfully accomplished their missions.

If tonight is a lila lavan for some of our soldiers, may they be safe through this night and may they hit their targets with precision and justice. And may the day come, when our white nights are only for partying.

Friday Morning in Israel

2011-12-09T08:52:00.000+02:00

It's 8:30 a.m. in Israel and I'm feeling very good. I woke up and made Aliza sandwiches for school, cut up an orange in 8 slices as she likes it, gave in to her request for a small bag of snacks like the ones Elie and Lauren bought for her school trip on Sunday. Elie left early for the last day of a course that will allow him, like Shmulik, to carry a gun while working as a security guard.

Shmulik left for a day of work at the mall, taking Aliza with him. In between making the sandwiches, I'd added warm water to yeast and a bit of sugar. After they left, I added the flour, eggs, oil, honey, and salt - dough for the challah, the sweet, braided bread that will grace our Sabbath table tonight. I cut up the vegetables, added chicken and water and spices - the soup my husband loves. It isn't Shabbat for him without the soup.

I spiced the chicken, peeled potatoes for the mashed potatoes he loves and the baked potatoes Davidi and Aliza like. Soon, Davidi will come down and help me hand-grate more potatoes. It's now 8:30 a.m. - and the soup is cooking, the potatoes boiling, the challah rising, the chicken roasting. I'm not done, but it's a great start for 8:30 in the morning and though I don't drink coffee, this is my coffee break.

While I was kneading the dough, it is a custom of Jewish women through the centuries to pray that with the work we do, God will bless our families. All that we do for the holy day is considered blessed. We clean our homes and ourselves, we bake our favorite foods, use our best dishes.

We pray for our children - and now a grandson. We pray that our marriage is one of communication and love and yes, we pray for our country. I found myself asking God to give the people in the south a quiet Shabbat and once again the absurdity of the life we live hit home. How absurd to ask for a blessing that people stop shooting rockets at us.

I checked in on the news first thing this morning when I woke up - four rockets last night. Two in Ashkelon (population 112,000); one hit Beersheva (population 187,900) - that's 300,000 people. People - not soldiers. People - not terrorists like the one Israel's air-force targeted yesterday.

A BBC breaking news report says Israel hit a Hamas training camp; Gaza propagandists are claiming children were hurt. It begs the question no one will ask - if both are telling the truth (big ifs), why were children on a Hamas training camp?

I don't know the answer to that question - I only know that this morning as I made the bread for the Sabbath, the calm I hoped to find dissolved a little with the anger. I want to be like most people - I don't want to have to ask for quiet in the south and rockets to stop falling on Israel.

The house is filling with the smells of Shabbat. Soon, I'll set the table and wash the floors. Soon, I think, my country will be at war again - to again stop the rockets. We don't really have a choice - and we won't have one until the Palestinians choose peace and negotiation over terror and war.

I don't know if Palestinian children were hurt last night. There are so many lies in what they publicize that it is impossible to know the truth. They'll come out with pictures - but even the pictures have been lies in the past. Perhaps it's true - that some stupid father took his children to his training camp. Perhaps one of our missiles took a wrong turn. The inevitable truth that we do not target their children, their civilians will be lost again and the obvious truth that they do nothing but target our children and our civilians will be denied.

The peace for today comes not in the skies over Israel and Gaza, but in my kitchen and the kitchen of thousands of Jewish women who kneaded their dough and asked God to bless this land with peace, with health, with safety.

Shabbat shalom.

Siren - Test

2011-12-08T16:56:00.000+02:00

Twice a year, air raid sirens sound in Israel to schedule a moment or two to remember, to honor. The first is for Holocaust Remembrance Day and the second is for Israel's Memorial Day. And then sometimes, as happened during the Cast Lead Operation/Gaza War - there's a mistake and a siren goes off suddenly, leading to fear and panic - especially among children.

And then, there are the sirens that the army uses to test the system. That's what happened today - a 90 second reminder that we live in a country that could, quite easily, be attacked by anyone of several enemies. Almost daily, Gaza launches rockets against us. Lebanon fired rockets a few weeks ago and Hezbollah has increased its rhetoric. Syria mobilized some troops last week near the border. Egypt is making noises about the peace treaty we signed over 30 years ago.

Today was just a test - a reminder that we need to make sure our emergency alert system is always functional. It was a test of the system, not a drill, so I assume the children in the schools were not required to move to bomb shelters - but they would have heard the siren anyway, as I did in my home.

I've got my grandson with me today - he slept through the siren. In my mother's generation, they had air raid siren drills in America and the children were told to get under the desks. Here, they are quickly taken to bomb shelters. A few months ago, I saw a news clip. Israel is a center of innovation - amazing inventions.

This one won't make the international news, but we've discovered how to make reinforced children's desks. They dropped a 500 kilogram weight on a standard table, which was crushed beyond recognition. Then, they showed the same 500 kilogram weight being dropped on the reinforced table. For a second, the table held the weight and then it tipped over to the side.

The news clip then showed how two children could hide under each desk. Of course, if the weight were to explode upon impact, the children would not survive, even under the table. That wasn't mentioned in the news clip - I only thought of it later. The point was that if a missile hit a school building and the roof collapsed, the children under the table would be alive and hopefully unhurt.

It's silly to let my mind wander on a beautiful day in Israel, with clouds just beginning to roll in and my relatively new grandson sleeping peacefully in his carriage near me. In all the years of my schooling, I don't remember a single air raid siren sounding, or even any testing other than fire drills.

It's sobering to think not of the siren, but of why they are testing and what would be the reason for their sounding a real alarm. Too much to consider now, too much to think about.

More Truth about Palestinian Refugees

2011-12-08T16:08:00.001+02:00

Survivors and Refugees

2011-12-06T13:21:00.002+02:00

Despite reality TV shows, the word "survivor" for me is almost always tied to those who walked out of the hell that was the Holocaust. Television is fiction, trying to survive the Holocaust was the reality for millions of Jews; more than six million didn't survive. My grandfather was born in Poland and fled in the early 1920s. He left behind his mother and two sisters - he was their hope for a better life in a place less filled with hatred and oppression. He went to America and worked very hard.

My grandfather compromised the religion in which he was raised to earn the money he needed to bring his mother and sisters to safety. He continued to eat kosher food, but he worked on the Sabbath, as his job required him to do. Hitler's race to power defeated my grandfather's race to save his family. His mother and sisters died in Auschwitz. Once, he saw a movie - a news reel - of what was happening in Europe and when he saw the dead bodies piled up, he began to sob. My mother remembers him saying, "my mother, my mother." His mother and sisters were not survivors...they did not survive.

When I stood beside the gas chambers and crematoria there, I whispered to my grandfather's family of the great-great grandchildren and great-great grand nieces and nephews of theirs who live in Israel. I spoke to my husband's grandparents - all four of them, who had been killed there, and I cried for them because they did not survive.

My grandfather suffered the loss of his beloved mother - but he was not a survivor. He was in no concentration camps, no ghetto, no forced labor camps. He was not a survivor, nor was my mother, his only daughter. You either survive something, or you don't. Either way, your children may be effected by what you endured, but that does not make them survivors too.

My mother-in-law and father-in-law were young when the Nazis stormed into Hungary. They survived the horrors of the Holocaust. My mother-in-law was in Auschwitz. She and her brother and sister survived; her parents, a young sister, an older brother and his wife did not.

All their lives, my in-laws were remembered as survivors, scarred by what had been done to them, by their memories, their nightmares. All their lives, they looked behind them, wondering when the Nazis would come again. They and hundreds of thousands of others who managed to escape Hitler's final plan were the survivors who reminded us what the Nazis had done. But, the thing is...surviving is not "transferable." My husband's parents were survivors. He is not. Our children are not. The child of a survivor - is not a survivor. Like a stone thrown into a pond, the ripple effect goes on, long after the stone sinks to the bottom. But the stone did not hit all the waves it produces; the children of survivors are not survivors themselves.

What this means is that the number of survivors dwindles each day as more and more pass away. The last of the generation - most only children in those final days of World War II, are in their 70s and beyond. This is recognized throughout the world - by Germany, Israel, the United States, and Jews everywhere. Too soon, there will be no more survivors. What is the great truth of the Holocaust? That there are very few survivors left and the burden of remembering has already passed to my generation and beyond. My sons carry the names of those who died in the Holocaust; my grandson carries the name of one who survived.

And now, another discussion of reality versus fiction.

In 1948, the Arab population of what was then called Palestine, chose war over statehood. They rejected the United Nations Partition Plan that ended the British Mandate over Palestine; a plan that would have seen an Arab and a Jewish state established. The Jews, including many survivors, agreed to the Plan and declared the re-establishment of the State of Israel after 2,000 years in exile. Five Arab armies promptly invaded - Lebanon, Egypt, Syria, Jordan, and units from far beyond.

During the fighting, a bit before, and most definitely after, hundreds of thousands of people fled in many directions, from and to many countries. Some fled to get out of the way of the fighting (Arab armies broadcast to local Arab communities that they should get out of the way as the Arab armies came to "push the Jews into the sea"); others fled in the midst of battles; others, like hundreds of thousands of Jews living in Arab countries, fled an expected wave of persecution, arriving in Israel with little more than the clothes and the few packages they were allowed to take with them.

The Jews who came from Libya, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, Yemen, Iraq and beyond, were refugees. They were put in tents until apartments were built or found for them. Within a short period of time, measured in months or perhaps even years, all were resettled and absorbed. Today in Israel, there are no Jewish refugees. In the house next to mine are Jews whose parents came from Yemen and Morocco. Across the street, from France and Russia. Some who are many generations in Israel, even one who can trace her roots back two thousand years - unbroken in this land.

The Arabs who fled the conflict settled in Jordan, Lebanon, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and beyond. They were refugees. They were put in camps...and kept there. Their Arab brothers made no attempt to absorb them, to find them homes, to build them apartments. They reveled in their poverty. When these refugees had children, the Arabs proclaimed that their children were refugees as well. Their grandchilden, great-grandchildren, and beyond.

What is the great Palestinian refugee truth? There are very few Palestinian refugees who are still alive - and those that are alive, are in their late 60s, 70s and 80s. You cannot transfer the "title" of survivor; nor can you transfer the mantle of being a refugee. Those born in Jordan are Jordanians - even if the Kingdom of Jordan denies them the right to vote so that they can maintain the fiction of being a Hashemite kingdom - one whose population is actually more "Palestinian" than "Jordanian."

King Abdullah of Jordan was born in Amman - he says he is Jordanian. Queen Rania was born in Kuwait. She says she is Palestinian because her parents were born in Tulkarem, an Arab city in Israel. She is, in truth, Kuwaiti, as those born in Jordan are Jordanians, those born in Saudi Arabia are Saudis, even if they are denied the right to work or vote or purchase land. There was no government in Palestine - only the British Mandate and before that Ottoman control.

What you have is not a refugee problem - but hundreds of thousands of people who have been denied from birth the right to live as equals in the nation of their birth - no, not Palestine or Israel - but all the nations to which they fled - Kuwait, Jordan, Syria, Egypt, Lebanon, Iran, Iraq, and beyond.

The Jews who came from Yemen are Israelis, as are their children. We are not a nation of Iranians, Lebanese, Egyptians, Syrians, etc. - we are a nation of Jews and Israelis, many of whom have roots in these other countries. The Jews who live here do not have Yemenite citizenship, nor do their children or grandchildren.

What an amazing abuse of history to systematically lower the number of survivors of the Holocaust while hypocritically increasing the number of Palestinian refugees with each generation and each passing day. If a child born in Egypt is a Palestinian refugee, than my husband and my children are all Holocaust survivors.

Will Germany now pay reparations to each of these children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren as victims of the Nazi regime? Will the United Nations create an organization to see to the needs of these new "survivors." Will the Poles return the land of my great-grandmother to me? Will the Czech republic return my husband's grandfather's shoe store and home to him?

No - only the Palestinians, it seems, get to wave their hypothetical flag of suffering before the nations of the world, and only Israel is expected to pay for it. How truly lame.

Paintball, Pictures, and Pieces

2011-12-05T16:21:00.000+02:00

I guess I should be grateful for Facebook. We get to spy on our kids and see pictures we've never seen before. I found several of Elie during the time he was in the army and I decided to grab them and post them here.

Here are some:

In the post: Thank you...from Elie's Commander the army took Elie and the other commanders and officers for a day of paintball to help them unwind and to thank them.

In that post, I wrote...

There are many things that I think are unique about the Israeli army. Chief among these things is the way that the Israeli soldier interacts with his commanding officers. Israel is a very informal country in many ways. It is not uncommon for people to wear jeans to work; for children to call their teachers by their first names. I know everyone in our local bank by their first names and in discussions with friends, we refer to the mayor of our city by his first name.

K. (that's how we refer to "secret" officers in Israel) wants to thank his commanders and so has planned a special day for them. Once, when K. wanted to thank all his soldiers, he suddenly had his driver stop in front of a supermarket. He went in, and bought ices for all his soldiers (we're talking dozens here). This time, he wants to thank his commanders - those who he relied on during the war as orders were sent, coordinates, information.
K. called Elie and told him that the army was taking all the commanders to...ready...a day of PaintBall.....

"Didn't you shoot enough this last month?" I joked with Elie when I heard. He just smiled.....

Now the war is over...or at least we hope it is...and so the army not only allows this downtime, it encourages it and even sponsors it. Tomorrow, Elie will run, take aim, and shoot his best shots. He's an excellent marksman. Remind me never to go to a PaintBall session with a bunch of Israeli soldiers.

In addition to the PaintBall day, we received a letter in the mail from the head of Elie's g'dud. It was addressed to the families and explained how important was the role artillery played in this war, giving support to the paratroopers, the tank division, Givati and Golani ground forces, and more.

And the next day, I wrote about his experience in Elie's Team Won. And here's the picture I found on Facebook of that day!

And one more - a picture of Elie with a friend - I cut out the friend. It was posted with something about Elie being behind bars - the bars of the humvee in this case. It protects the soldiers from stones that are thrown at their vehicles on a regular basis - stones, huge pieces of buildings, even a washing machine.

Never mind. He's out of the army now and so I don't have to worry...not so much anyway. He has another day of Reserve duty coming up - but it's practice and it's not too far.

For now, I look at the smile and the blue eyes shining and know it is enough.

The Truest of Quotes

2011-12-05T12:23:00.001+02:00

Every once in a while, I find myself explaining, yet again, why I have a right to live in this land (have you ever had to defend your right to live in your own country?) and why my children have a right to live here...and every once in a while, some "humanitarian" points out that Israel is a nation full of people who came to live here (in addition to the tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, who were born here).

And every once in a while, someone comes along and dares to compare Hamas rockets with IDF artillery; Hamas firing into our cities, to our firing at their rocket launchers. In the midst of yet another discussion with yet another person who wants to blame Israel for all manner of evil in Gaza - regardless of the facts, I came across this quote. I've said it to this Swedish woman several times in so many words...and she just won't listen. Perhaps hearing it from a British Member of Parliament will help? I doubt it, but I like the simplicity of it anyway.

"it is still true, in principle, that when Israeli rockets kill civilians, they have missed their targets, and that when Hizbollah rockets kill civilians, they have scored a deliberate hit. That is a moral difference that needs to be dinned into the skull of every saloon-bar strategist currently denouncing Israel."

- British Member of Parliament Boris Johnson, Telegraph.co.uk, August 3, 2006.

(Picture source unknown...please write to me if you know who created this cartoon)

The Faithful "Commenters"

2011-12-04T22:56:00.001+02:00

I have a group of wonderful people who follow and comment on a regular basis (more are invited to...why should I be the only one talking here...even if it is my blog!). It's always interesting to see my words in their comments, to see what they took away from my random thoughts and ramblings. There's been a bit of discussion between two semi-regulars of mine and other than approving the comments (yes, I moderate becaus trust me, you don't want to read half the comments I get), I want to promote dialog.

So, Alan a "US military officer" (don't know more...but thank you for your messages) and Barbara (whose son lives in Israel and whom I would love to meet) have been talking about a recent post of mine (A Clock Ticking). Barbara wrote something, Alan responded...I don't remember if there were more discussions, but then Barbara wrote in again and I found myself wondering about her words and if they were indeed a reflection of my thoughts.

Barbara's son lives in Tel Aviv and she is quick to assure us that she is not part of the "national camp." I'm pretty sure that by her definition, I am. But she actually makes my point as she does her own - Israel is too small a country to differentiate between camps when it comes to a nuclear attack. Tel Aviv, actually, is more likely a target than the settlements (most of which are closer to Jerusalem) and the Arabs do like to claim that Jerusalem is theirs. Ironically, in today's news they are once again claiming the Kotel (Western Wall) as theirs, saying it is where Mohammed parked his donkey.

Barbara makes an impassioned plea for the world to take Iran seriously - I share in her words and thank her for them.

Nothing and no one has deterred them [the Iranians], only slowed them down a little. It is fatally stupid to underestimate their commitment or their power, or to ignore the lack of resolve to stop them. Have we still not learned the lessons of WWII? That wasn't very long ago. What evidence do we have that this is all smoke and mirrors, none. I believe them.

There is no evidence that this is all "smoke and mirrors" and very clear evidence that this is quite real and the threat is not only for Israel, but all or most of Europe and likely the US as well. I believe them too, though I have to say I don't want to agree with Barbara's next conclusion...

The Israeli people cannot survive a nuclear war.

Not that I want there to be a nuclear war to prove her wrong, but actually I have heard estimates that Israel can survive a nuclear hit - obviously not a lot of them, but I'm not sure saying we can't survive is completely accurate, though again, I don't want to test this theory. And, the reports I saw referred to a nuclear attack, not a nuclear war, so maybe there's a difference. Conventional wisdom suggests Israel has nuclear weapons. Common sense says if Iran launches a nuclear attack on Israel - we will blow them off the map. Sure, that's what they say they'll do with us and so while I'm not in a position to threaten (I'm a technical writer, for heaven's sake, not a politician), I can say that there are red lines beyond which no one will push Israel. If Iran dares to fire nuclear weapons, I doubt there are more than 10 Israelis in this country who would not hesitate to fire back at them - 100 to each 1 they fire.

Paula is saying, we know we will die here if Iran attacks us with nuclear weapons, but no one is going to make us flee, we are done with that, this is our home.

So now we get to the hard part of Barbara's comments. It sounded fine when I said it, but reading back it sounds too...too scary, too heavy. What right do I have to put my children's lives on this line. No, I don't know that we will die here if Iran attacks us with nuclear weapons. I really don't. I have this vision in my mind of the Prime Minister pressing a secret green button (it can be blue, I don't care) and a special nuclear protection umbrella will cover the entire country - or missiles will fire and blow the bombs up over Syria - or well, anything other than their exploding here. Once in a while, I can close my eyes and imagine utter chaos, scenes of war and devastation and smoke...but most of the time, I can't and won't let my mind wonder that far. Barbara writes that "no one is going to make us flee, we are done with that, this is our home." Oh yes, I do feel that way...but I'm kind of hoping to skip all that dying stuff - at least for another 80 years or so.

My son feels the same way and he lives in Tel Aviv, not in some little settlement over the Green Line. I respect that. You make a stand against the monsters of this world, even if it kills you.

Well...um...I'm glad your son feels that way and I'm not sure what difference it makes where he lives or where I live and yes, you have to make a stand against the monsters of the world. Even if it kills you? Yes, perhaps even then...though again, I'm really kind of hoping to avoid that.

I don't mean you sit around dithering with your head in the sand, making excuses to do nothing like the Jews of Germany in the 1930's who had a chance to escape and didn't take it.

It took me many years and long hours of reading history to realize that this is too harsh a simplification. With perfect hindsight, we can understand that there was no option but to flee; but it wasn't a given.Could any Jew who wanted to flee Germany in the 1930s have done so? Too long for this post, but I wouldn't put myself in a place to judge them - however the Jews still in Iran, and other Arab countries cannot use the same excuse. If they can get out...now is the time.

I mean you make a stand, like Paula and her family and my son and so many others are doing. These are ordinary people who for every day of their lives stand up against evil no matter the cost.

Thank you, Barbara. I probably shouldn't tell you that what we are doing is more about living a life full of happiness and beauty than conviction. Yes, we live here because we believe and know it is our home, but more, every day is a gift here, one in which we watch our children grow in sunshine and freedom as we were never free anywhere else, or at any time in history.

Dead people do not need passports. It's meaningless to contemplate, unless you are getting out now.

Well...I guess the passport debate continues. I agree dead people do not need passports. I think I was kind of hoping that live people don't need them either if they aren't planning on leaving. No, we aren't getting out now - but I think it's more because we just don't see the need. I'm not saying that we are making a stand unto the death here.

If there is one key difference between us and our enemies - it is best summed up by our enemies themselves. No one has yet expressed the difference between "us" and "them" more eloquently than Hassan Nasrallah:

"We have discovered how to hit the Jews where they are the most vulnerable. The Jews love life, so that is what we shall take away from them. We are going to win because they love life and we love death." -- Hezbollah leader Sheik Hassan Nasrallah. July 2006.

No, we do not love death and so we don't think of battles to come as ways to achieve it; rather we dream of a time when life will be cherished by our neighbors and others will see that it is life that we love, life and peace.

(Thanks again to Barbara for posting a comment...that made me think!)

Where they live...

2011-12-02T09:22:00.000+02:00

Is where your children live a reflection of the relationship you have with them? My first reaction would be, "of course not." I have lived anywhere from 50 miles to a few thousand miles away from my parents at any given point in my life. Children move away for economic reasons, ideological reasons, health reasons, romance, adventure, and more that I haven't listed.

The entrance to my house is one floor up from the street. Next to my home, the house is slightly higher, as we live on the gentle slope that descends towards the Dead Sea (about a 20 minute drive from our city). So the entrance to my house rests a short step down from the back door and yard of one neighbor, and a bit over half a floor up from their downstairs tenant. What this means is - when Hila comes out to her yard, and Leah is hanging her laundry beside the front door of her apartment or watching her two gorgeous sons playing, the three of us can chat.

Hila has 7 children - including two sets of twins. Her home is clean and neat, her children dressed well. I never hear them yelling - rather, I hear her talking to crying children with patience that I would have long exhausted. She compliments me on all that I do, while I'm amazed that she can handle what she has. Leah has 3 children, cooks, keeps a beautiful home and has created a haven for Aliza whenever we weren't home. During the darkest months when Aliza was afraid to be alone, Leah and her husband made my daughter not only welcome, but part of their family. Aliza is the youngest here - there she is the older sister, much loved by all. Sholom helps her with her studies - they adore her...probably as much as she adores them. Aliza's phone is filled with pictures of Leah's children and Aliza loves to tell me things that they have said or done.

I enjoy the minutes when the three of us are outside catching up - it's a moment of life outside work and pressures. Yesterday, Hila said something and it took me a moment to understand what she meant. I speak in Hebrew with Hila; Leah and I speak English. Leah also speaks French and I'm pretty sure her Hebrew is better than mine - and she's only been in Israel a few years.

What Hila was saying was that the fact that two of my married children - and soon three with Elie and Lauren - choose to live close means that I've done something right. It isn't that you've done something wrong if your children move away for whatever reason - but if they choose to move close...that is a statement of your relationship with them.

Is that true? I don't know - but it warms the heart of a mother to think so. We're looking for an apartment for Elie and Lauren - I would so love them to live close. Not too close that they feel uncomfortable, but close enough that we can see them often, feel them nearby.

I guess where they live does make me hope that the relationship we have is a solid one. And the other aspect of relationships that I wanted to write about is how Elie and Lauren, and Shmulik and Naama behave. For that matter, though they've been married longer - Amira and Haim too. You see - with the help and blessings of God, my children have found love. Seeing your children in love with another is an amazing thing to watch. Seeing the affection they have, the whispered words, the looks - yes, it does make you feel that you've done something right, given them something of great value.

Maybe this is a silly post and a waste of time. Maybe it is obvious to everyone, but I love watching my children in love; love knowing they have found someone who worries about them, cherishes them. "He's my problem now," Lauren said with a smile yesterday when Elie was being a brat. I love knowing that she is accepting him for who he is and that they each make the other better, stronger, whole.

I know there are great blessings in life - and no, I can't say which is the greatest blessing of all - the love of my husband, my children, grandchildren (current and God willing future)...but definitely one amazing blessing is the new children God brings to you above the ones you birth.

So, may God bless my children - with life, with health, and with love. And may God bless my amazing new children...the ones I have chosen...Yaakov, Chaim, Ariella, and Lauren, and the ones my children have brought to me, Haim, Naama, and yes, Lauren again!

Simply Brothers

2011-11-27T10:58:00.000+02:00

Someday, I'm going to have to let Aliza grow up. I know it and I'm sure I'll let it happen, but right now, I still think of her as a little girl. She's almost 12. Wow, that sounds old. It's so much easier to say she is 11 and 3/4. She's an aunt; she babysits and still, she is my baby.

So my baby woke up this morning with a stomach ache. She slept late because we went last night to the youth group ceremony (B'nei Akiva, Shabbat Irgun) where each group gets their name. From fourth grade to eight grade, the names are set. A child that moves from 5th to 6th knows they will be part of the Ma'alot group, just as the last group in line knows they are "Ha-Roe". In 9th grade, something extraordinary happens. The group receives a unique name and each child carries it with them - literally for life.

"It's a diplomatic way of saying how old you are," one woman explained to me last night as I told her that I don't have a name, a group. I grew up in America - more, I grew up in a non-religious environment and the youth group I attended was much less organized than the massive organization that is known as B'nei Akiva. Each year on Shabbat Irgun (a Sabbath dedicated to the organization that follows a month of activities), two strings are stretched across the neighborhood basketball court and the parents, and even grandparents, come down off the bleachers and stand under the strings - each marked with a name - dating back as much as 50 years or more.

I'll try to write more about last night - and maybe I'll even upload some of the videos I took. That's for the next post or so - for now, I"ll explain that Aliza is still in bed because the children are given a few hours off school, knowing they will be out late - and they were.

So Aliza called me at the office a few minutes ago, She says her stomach hurts and her head hurts and she doesn't want to go to school, "Who's home?" she asked. Her father and the youngest of her three brothers.

"Is Elie working?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered, "he started this morning." Elie went last week to speak to the organization that handles security in the local mall. He was sure (and he was right) that they would be thrilled to add a combat soldier to their list of employees. Elie's already trained in much they need, beyond even the basics. What skills he brings are likely never to be needed and yet it raises the organization's standing simply to have a higher level combat soldier.

They'll send Elie to the same course they sent Shmulik to last week - but more of a formality and perhaps like the course in first aid that was mandatory during the army (see Respecting Knowledge), Elie will feel that he knows so much of what they will teach and may even disagree with some of what he learns. It will be interesting to see Elie handle this when the course is civilian and not military. Elie could likely teach the course, certainly when it comes to spotting and handling potential problems. Elie has handled Israelis who are annoyed by the delays.

Aliza contemplated Elie starting as a security guard. It was a surprise for her. "He decided 'cause he's getting married he needs to work or something? It's the second time they are meeting in work," she said. I know she is talking about Shmulik, who has been working as a security guard for about eight months ago.

But I love the way her mind works and I was already smiling as I prompted, "the second time?"

"They met in the army in the same time. It wasn't exactly work but same thing."

No, they weren't in the army together - not the same unit, not even the same time. They didn't do the same things and no, they never actually met while both were in uniform. Elie finished his service the same week Shmulik began his, but in the mind of a child, her brothers weren't home and that's what mattered.

We have been to the mall many times when Shmulik has been on shift. For Aliza, it is amusing to see her brother standing there at the entrance. She gets to walk through without hesitation (as do I) and smiles as if she is the most important girl in the mall - HER brother, after all, is the security guard. Now she will have Elie there sometimes too.

No, I don't want her to realize that soon both will not only be standing at the entrances, but will be armed. There is a serious side to being a security guard - a side I don't want her to think about, though I do.

Right now, Shmulik is happy to have the job close to home and his wife. Elie knows that he can earn more money being a security guard in Jerusalem, even more for the trains. By and large, the job of being a security guard in Maale Adumim is boring and uneventful. I can only think of two instances in the last 8 months that were out of the ordinary. One was when an imminently stupid woman left her child in a locked and closed car to go to the post office and a passerby saw the crying, very red young child and very correctly picked up a rock and smashed his way into the car - calling the security and ambulance at the same time. The child was fine...the mother rightfully taken for questioning.

The second was when an Arab came to the mall and was angry that Shmulik wanted to see his identification. The Arab works at the mall and was angry that Shmulik didn't know him and just automatically let him pass. When the Arab refused to cooperate, Shmulik called the police. The Arab was taken from the mall and escorted to the front of the city and both the security company and the police agreed that Shmulik had handled it correctly.

This is the side of being a security guard that Aliza doesn't know about, doesn't consider...this and so much more. I'm happy to have Elie working in the mall here in a quiet city that has, well, remained quiet. I really don't want him working in Jerusalem. It's the coward in me that I have to face...and yet I'm happy not to face it.

For now, I'll just enjoy Aliza's surprise at learning that her brothers are working close to each other (schedules and assignments allowing for it). I haven't had a chance to really discuss it with Shmulik to see how he feels about it. He's built friendships and staked a position there. Elie is louder and more decisive in personality. They are so different - Shmulik as physically strong but gentler in soul. Shmulik will come to a situation and watch; Elie will come and where he feels command is missing, he will step in. I can easily see how Shmulik goes to work and does the job; while Elie will evaluate and analyze how things are done, how they can be better, safer, more efficient. It's just a difference in who they are. Neither better than the other; both so different.

As a mother, it is interesting to watch how they handle situations. My oldest three children were born within five years of each other - and now will all marry within a five year period. Our family grows, shifts, absorbs, changes. It is a message of life they take with them. There are such blessings in your children, beyond all you could imagine before they came to you, beyond all you can imagine even as they grow.

I titled this blog post "Simply Brothers" - I'm not sure why now. Sometimes, I pick the title and then write it; sometimes I write it and then pick the title. Last night, I watched my youngest son at the youth group ceremony. He is in the oldest group - now replaced by the incoming group. Next year, he may choose to be a counselor in the organization - he already says he wants to be one. He was among the tallest. It was very cold as we sat outside watching the performances. I had a long shirt and a sweater, and I was still cold. Davidi had a short sleeve shirt. I asked him where his jacket was - he had given it to someone else and even though he was cold, he wouldn't take it back.

Simply brothers. Three of them - their own, and mine. So very mine. Two will now work as security guards, protecting others. It is, to some extent, a test of faith. To let them go, to let them be cold. To realize they are their own, even as they remain mine.

Are you really who you say you are?

2011-11-23T21:00:00.003+02:00

Elie came to Israel on an American passport at just over 6 years old. Cute little kid, he was. A year later, he used the same American passport to go with the family to visit his grandparents, who were ailing. He was too young to go to the funerals and so only returned about 2 years later for his uncle's wedding. That was about 14 years ago. It was the last time Elie was there. Another time, I'll write of the culture shock he is about to experience, the things he will see and do. For now, it is about the process of getting there.

As I've written a few times here, our passports all expired - Israeli and American. Elie is marrying a wonderful young lady who moved to Israel almost 2 years ago...from America. She travels to visit her family there and then returns...she has a passport.

So, in the weeks before a planned visit to her family to introduce her future husband, Elie has to run around renewing his Israeli and American passports. As an Israeli citizen, he must exit the country as an Israeli. As an American, it is easier for him to enter the US as an American than to spend a long time applying for a VISA.

He went to the Israeli Interior Ministry - right here in our local mall. He gave them his expired passport, some photos and his identity card, and paid 250 NIS (about $70). It will be ready in a few days.

The United States formally recognizes Jerusalem as the capital of Israel. Each presidential hopeful flirts with the American Jewish community - it is happening already. This one promises if elected, his first visit will be to Israel (wonderful, more traffic); another offers other promises. Obama, like every Democrat before him, promised to move the US Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem.

I am not an expert on US diplomacy; though I'm pretty good at recognizing lies and hypocrisy. I don't know how many US Embassies are located in places other than the capital of a country, but year after year, politician after politician promises they will finally move the embassy to Jerusalem...and then they sign an extension leaving it in Tel Aviv.

So, to get an American passport, Elie had to travel to Tel Aviv. That took him a bit over an hour. He carried with him his birth certificate (from NJ), his social security card, all his Israeli identity cards including his army ID and "combat soldier ID", passport pictures, several hundred shekels (the cost to renew was $130; the fine for not renewing was waived because it expired before he turned 18), and pictures.

This is where it gets interesting. The document also states that the applicant must give "a series of photos showing age progression from the time of your last passport through today." We began scrambling to find pictures, pulling them from albums, from piles of pictures waiting to be put in albums, sorting through digital pictures. Elie had the passport picture - that covers today. He had his Israeli driver's license and ID - that covers from the time he was 17 until today. He left America at age 6.

We found one from when he was about 8 and another from when he was 11. It wasn't enough. "I can see how this boy in the passport gets to this one and this one," said the clerk, "and I can see how the Israeli ID card gets to the driver's license and to the army ID, but I need more pictures in between."

He told me about the security in the place - how they asked him if he had anything electronic on him. He wasn't allowed to take his phone inside either. Both had to be left across the street at a shop that has a series of lockers. You pay $15 and you put all your stuff inside there and go back to the Embassy.

There was a woman there who spoke no Hebrew; one that spoke Hebrew, but almost no English, and finally one that spoke both languages. "Which language did you speak?" I asked him.

"Both," he answered.

He told me there were American flags everywhere inside. I think it was a bit of a culture shock for him. Elie came back home and we began looking for more pictures. Can you tell the story of a boy in pictures?

There he is with his father, learning for the first time how to put on tefillin. Something he does every weekday morning. He looks so serious there as he watches his father wrap the strap around his fingers. It is a binding - a binding of love between Elie and God that should last him all his life. My husband looks so young there.

This was our first son that we brought to bar mitzvah - the age where he becomes responsible for the paths he will choose. I look at the boy, and at the man that he has become, and I'm proud.

Yes, there are things I would change - he still has a temper and his room is still a mess but he has conquered mountains and learned more than I will ever know. In this picture, he is starting his life as a mitzvah-observant Jew. Yes, he had said the morning, afternoon, and evening prayers before this picture was taken, long before, but this was the actual day (the night before, actually, but still counts as the day); just as now he is starting a new life as a partner to someone else.

No, I don't expect the embassy to do more than look at the face and trace this connection they think they need from the birth certificate and other pictures to today. But I look, I see. The rest of the pictures are digital and stored on computers. The actual dates of when the pictures were taken have been lost as files are copied from one computer to the next.

I am guessing based on the ages of my youngest daughter. It's curious how often she is with Elie. Look how he holds her hands, how she sits there calmly.

In this one, she looks about 3 years old; that would make Elie around 16. He has changed, matured and still he holds her hands as he shows her something. I don't know what he was teaching her but her face is filled with wonder. This is the boy I wanted him to be. There's an innocence around him - or is it only me that sees it? This is before...before he learned things I never wanted him to know. The things I see in his face are no longer there in him.

His dreams of the future are there, but they are tempered with knowledge and maturity. Is it only me that sees it?

In the next one, Aliza is six years old; Elie is 19. He is months away from going to the army. We went ice skating up north (in one of the two real ice skating rings that I know about in the whole country). Elie held her, kept her from falling. Around and around they went - always he gripped her hand.

His face is too small in this picture - the embassy can see the shape. I don't know what camera I used, but the picture is too low in quality to let me see more than the body language as they stopped on the ice to pose for me.

The first time he came home from the army wearing a uniform, I took a picture of him. He was so proud to return to us, happy with what the army intended for him. He still looks so young in this picture. It was taken when he was 19, but already closer to 20. He had barely walked into the house for that first time home before I grabbed the camera and insisted we take pictures.

The beret on his right shoulder marks him as a new soldier - he has not yet been given the turquoise beret of the artillery division because he is only days into his basic training. He's happy here - happy to be home and free for a few days.

This was the end of the pictures Elie felt he needed to give the embassy to qualify for the "series of photos."

"They have my army ID photo and the cartis lochem photo." (A special card is issued to combat soldiers - this is the picture he gave them as well). He didn't think they needed the picture I have used on the blog - the one to the right here that I have loved for years. The job is done. Elie believes with these pictures, the embassy will agree that he is who he says he is and they'll give him the passport.

For me, it's been a nice journey back, seeing the boy - the little boy with the beautiful blue eyes....laughing as he is dressed in his costume for the Purim holiday. It's funny that the picture I found easily was the one where he had dressed up as a soldier - he was a clown once, a policeman, some animal...I think, several cartoon characters...now...now he's Elie again, an occasional soldier, a frequent medic, always a son and within a few months, always a husband.

Tonight they went to see another place and a band. It's the first time I haven't gone along with them - we already picked out the place they wanted, though they thought to go and see one more place tonight. Wedding plans are moving forward - the hall, the band, the photographer - and today, the passports.

A Clock Ticking

2011-11-23T08:25:00.000+02:00

Elie getting a passport to go to the States to visit Lauren's family has gotten me thinking. Years and years ago, we were in the north. I think I've written about it before. The story is simple. Wonderful vacation with the kids. I think we had four at the time. Leisurely days in the north. We rented an apartment very close to the Lebanese border and did day trips all around.

On our way back one evening, we stopped in the northern city of Kiryat Shemona and purchased food for dinner. We drove back to the apartment - I think I remember it being no more than a ten minute drive. We unloaded and the kids went to watch TV while we quickly started the barbecue. My husband was outside...I was inside when I heard two loud booms - seconds apart.

In the clarity of that moment, I knew katyusha rockets had been fired at Israel and had landed nearby. I had never heard a rocket - but I knew. I ran outside and made my husband come into the apartment. We didn't know where the bomb shelter was; we didn't know where to go. The apartment owner came to us right away and we asked what to do. He took us deeper into his house and told us to stay in the stairwell - it was the most protected area of the house, he said, while he went to check what was happening. We heard the army order people into bomb shelters and here we were in the house.

The owner explained that the bomb shelters weren't cleaned out and the best place was where we were. We tried to believe he was right, that we were being responsible. Within 30 minutes, the army gave the all clear to let people resume what they were doing. The vast majority of the tourists (Israelis visiting from central and southern Israel who regularly fill Israel's northern areas in the heat of the summer - like us), went scrambling home as fast as they could. The north was virtually evacuated of visitors; the residents remained. You could almost see them shaking their heads in wonder as to why people had left.

We decided to spend the night - but compromised by pulling mattresses into the stairwell. All camped out, trying to make it fun; Elie began telling us he wanted to go home.

There are moments in your life you remember. Crystal clear. You know this is a turning moment - I hope for Elie, certainly for me. No, we told him. No, we won't run. The army says it is safe; the people who live here all the time say it is safe. We aren't running. Would you run if it was your home? Why is this less your home than where we live. No.

What we did - without telling the children - was switch our plans. The next day, rather than stay in the Galilee area, we drove north and east into the Golan Heights, hoping that if more rockets fell, they wouldn't be able to target the Golan, which lay so much higher than the Galilee fields and hills. When we returned home later that week no further rockets had been fired other than the one...no, it wasn't two. What I took for two was the sound of it being fired - outgoing from Lebanon, and the sound of it landing - incoming to one of Israel's cities where damage was caused...close to where we'd made our purchases just 15 or so minutes before.

We also came back to some very unhappy relatives who felt we should have left after the rocket attack. They'd heard about it - even in the States, and felt we were irresponsible parents. Why this whole story?

Because I feel a clock is ticking with Iran and I don't have passports for my children...and I don't want to get them. I don't want my children leaving Israel. I can close my eyes and see horrible war scenes, smoke in the streets. Would this be the Jewish people's last stand? Where else should it be but Israel? No, I do not believe it will happen - it comes back to my overly active imagination. I can see things, smell them, feel them - if my brain only thinks it.

Another quick story - when my oldest daughter completed the advanced ambulance training program for handling multiple casualty incidents, they invited the parents to a demonstration. At the time, buses were exploding regularly and so the simulation was a terrorist attack. The kids - all around 16 years old, simulated setting up a triage area, bringing in the wounded (more kids carried on stretchers by other kids). The day was clear and bright; the kids were laughing because some "patients" fell off the stretchers while over-acting. Parents were smiling, and I was standing there crying. I was so embarrassed. I was yelling silently to my brain - stop, stop thinking this is real. There's no black smoke. The sirens are just part of it. Stop.

So at times, I do this with Iran - what would happen if Iran really did fire a nuclear weapon at Israel? I don't really have much faith in most of the world. The French will moan; even the Germans and the English will do little. The Swedes and Norwegians might actually cheer. The Americans might come...but it would be too late, wouldn't it? And if there were some war scene with hundreds of Americans trying to get out - trying to approach the American embassy...as I've seen in some foreign countries...I have no passport to prove who we are...and even if I did...would I want to.

I have no other land, no other place but here. I don't want to leave...this is where, hopefully way way in the future, I want to die and be buried. Am I being an irresponsible parent?

And this brings me to something Elie said recently. Israel is, as far as I know, the only place in the world that during a war, there are more people flying into the war zone than out of it. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of Israelis all over the world will come home as fast as the planes can bring them. Even those who live abroad, fly home to fight. I wonder if they feel the clock ticking?

The First Real Storm

2011-11-22T19:00:00.000+02:00

I don't think I have cursed the rain in more than 18 years. Growing up, rain was this regular thing that happened at least once a week and sometimes two. More than that, and it was just miserable. Rain was that thing that came and messed up plans and worse, you couldn't really plan around it.

It rains in Israel from about November to somewhere in March - no, not every day and sometimes not for weeks. It rains for a day, here or there, sometimes two or three days. Rarely more than that. It might be my imagination, but I think it rains more at night than during the day. More than that - when the rains stop - perhaps early April...that's it. There is almost never any rain again until late October...sometimes even late November.

If you want to plan a wedding in June - you can worry if it will be too hot, but never if it will rain. It's always fun to listen to the weather reporter during the summer months. Today was hot...tomorrow...the same. But winter comes to Israel and when it does, the rains fall. We start the season with prayers for the rain...and then continue to pray three times a day for it every single day through the winter.

Last week, we had our first big storm of the winter...we hope it wasn't the only storm and that even bigger ones will come in the weeks and months ahead. And I think that's something so special about Israel. Someone will say, "oh, the weather is supposed to be cold and storming...thank God."

We praise the rain, we welcome it, we rejoice in it. Last week - it rained and rained. The ground soaked it up and as we drove north yesterday, puddles remained in the fields. It was wonderful - the kind of weather I love so much.

I guess you can see that I don't have much to write about if I am writing about the weather...but there is something so special about rain in Israel.

As for the family - we are all adjusting to the wonderful news that Elie is marrying Lauren. My older daughter has returned to her studies after a year off (a year in which she gave me a beautiful grandson). Shmulik is taking a course this week for the security company he works for. The course allows him to be an armed guard - rather than "just" the one who checks bags and trunks in the mall.

It means he is supposed to run to danger, not run from it. It means he will be armed; will be bringing a gun home. He is spending the week training - shooting, running, showing that he is physically fit. The group taking the course are mainly young men, post-army. There is one older man. I can't say how old he is. It might be funny to ask. Shmulik acted as if he was in his 60s. It would be funny to find out he is in his late 30s or 40s. They made them run a kilometer in 5 minutes. The "old" man took 6 minutes but they kept him in the course and he insisted on doing everything the younger men were doing.

Another week, and Shmulik will move into another category at work. He says it will be less boring. In the meantime, Elie has decided to earn some extra money as well - he too has decided to work as a security guard while getting married, studying, etc. He went today and the security company is anxious to have him. Elie believes it is because he was a combat soldier with experience. He too will be sent to the course where Shmulik is this week.

My two younger children are in school - working hard and enjoying what is called "Chodesh Irgun" - a month dedicated to a youth organization. They have tons of activities and then the parents come to listen to them perform. It's a busy time - wedding plans are moving forward - I've been to a bunch of wedding halls, another one tonight.

Bands, photographers, soon apartments, furniture - I'm exhausted thinking about it - but more, I'm blessed. The rain comes in and cleans the air, the streets, the soul. Your children grown and they find another. Like the seasons, things move forward.

May it be a winter filled with rain. May Israel's seas fill as our lives fill with the wonder of each season.

Israel vs. Iran - the movie?

2011-11-20T15:17:00.000+02:00

I am always amazed by people who can create videos...that say so much. This one is an example -

Israel's Secret Weapon Against Iran

2011-11-20T11:50:00.003+02:00

I love how people ask me what Israel will do - as if I would know. I am a citizen of Israel; I have my opinion. But I would guess that you can count on a very few hands how many people KNOW what Israel will do and I sincerely doubt the President of the United States is one of them. I would guess that you could count on less than one hand how many people KNOW the timing of when Israel might do something, and I KNOW that the President of the United States is not one of them.

And yet, I know the weapon, the true weapon, Israel will use if and when it attacks Iran's nuclear infrastructure. Some will dismiss this as whimsical. If you are of that type, you can stop reading right here because you are probably right and oh, so wrong. Some will say that God Himself will avenge, in advance, anyone who would dare to attack His people. Sadly, we know that is not true. Even today, there remain survivors who can tell you of a time when God allowed His people to suffer. If you are expecting me to say that God will handle Iran, here too you may want to stop.

So let me tell anyone who has continued past the previous comments what I believe, what I know, about what will happen. I believe that if the world will not stop Iran - and I believe with all its talk, it won't - then yes, Israel will attack Iran and, if it does, it will, most definitely, use a secret weapon. It isn't so much secret as one that is denied. We've used it in the past, in the distant past and in the recent past.

There was a meeting once at West Point in which an American general spoke to new cadets. I have heard his name, but can't remember it - so perhaps someone can help me with more of the details of the speech he gave. What I remember from the story was that the general cited many different battles in history as examples of great historical military strategies. One cadet raised his hand and asked why the general did not include any of Israel's battles. The general refused to answer, telling the cadet to see him after the speech. When the cadet approached the general quietly at the end and asked his question again, the general explained that he could not use Israel's military strategy because they were, from a military point of view, impossible. He told the cadet that what Israel had accomplished was physically, historically, militarily impossible. No, he didn't deny that Israel had done it - only that, essentially, without God (and I would add our secret weapon), we could never have done what we did. That cadet chose to leave West Point. He came to live in Israel and joined the army here.

As for our secret weapon - it is a combination of two great forces - determination and desperation. That simple - and that impossible to duplicate. In 1948, a nation of vastly outnumbered, under-armed, badly trained, and with the added weight of tens of thousands of half-starved, empty-handed refugees from hell - defeated five standing armies. In battles to great to count, victory by the weak was delivered - by God and by the knowledge that there was no other place, no other land. The Arab threat to push the Jews into the sea was both dramatic and accurate - that was the only real place they had left.

On Yom Kippur (October 6, 1973), when Israelis were in the synagogues praying, Egypt and Syria launched a war against them. About 1,400 Syrian tanks faced off against 170 Israeli tanks. Within three days, scores of Syrian tanks had been destroyed, at the cost of almost 3/4 of the Israeli tanks. By October 9th, the third day of the war, Israel was down to just 6 tanks. In a valley that has since been called the Valley of Tears, a young Israeli named Avigdor Kahalani was facing impossible odds. He had only a handful of tanks and defeat was certain. Kahalani called his situation in, and was ordered to withdraw. He wanted help - that's why he called, and he was told to retreat.

Kahalani refused - he complained to command that he couldn't hear them and that he was going on. In a battle that could only be described as half mad, he ordered his tanks to spread out and fire wildly in all directions. The Syrians believed that reinforcements had arrived and fell back. Determination and desperation. Kahalani knew that if the Syrians came down off the Golan Heights, all of Israel lay before them.

Will Israel attack Iran? When will it happen? Will it happen? I could enter the pool of guessing games; I could tell you what I believe, which has no basis in reality. But rather, I'll say something else.

We did not come to this land to be taken from it. I do not believe God will ever allow us to be exiled again. Elie is organizing his passport to travel with his future wife to visit her family. His passports are all expired - all of ours are expired. People keep saying we should get them renewed and I know they are right and yet I hesitate. I will not leave this land. The Iranians will not succeed, nor will the Syrians or the Palestinians.

Our secret weapon is that we have no where else to go, no other land that is ours. There are more than 20 other Arab countries; there is only one Jewish one. We would like to live in peace with our neighbors and as soon as they agree, we might actually have a shot at it someday.

In the meantime, Israel may have to attack Iran's nuclear infrastructure because we may not have a choice. If we do, I believe with complete faith, that we go with God as our Pilot. We will succeed - because we are determined, because we are desperate, because ultimately, our secret weapon is that we don't have 19 other lands from which to choose from...only Israel, always Israel.

How do you NOT know?

2011-11-20T10:05:00.000+02:00

Gee...that was a challenge.

My ankle is better, but still not there. Worse, I keep abusing it by walking too much and not keeping it elevated. I'm trying - but I'm not the greatest when it comes to taking care of myself. It's something I inherited and by the time my mother learned to take care of herself - the lesson she had taught me was too deeply ingrained. I'm trying to break it - and not succeeding nearly well enough - case in point, my ankle.

Elie, my husband, and Shmulik are wonderful. They are doing all they can to drive me wherever, whenever. Today, it was Elie again. We talked of his wedding, plans for travel they have, where they will live, and the traffic. Oh, the traffic. There is a pattern in Israel. Some days, it is bad. Other days it is worse - and yet, nothing rivals the traffic jams I remember as a young driver trying to get into New York City. For the most part, the traffic in Israel moves...slowly.

The problem is, I've been here long enough to forget that some people think that when the traffic is at least moving, that's an improvement. So, today, we sailed up the mountain towards Jerusalem, sailed past the checkpoint. Yes, we watched the soldiers enter and walk through both a Jewish bus and an Arab bus in the seconds we passed through the third (relatively clear) lane of traffic.

And then, we hit the jam coming through the tunnel under Mount Scopus and Jerusalem's prestigious Hebrew University. On the other side of the tunnel, more traffic. We came to a light and Elie said something about the car in front of us. It was an unmarked police car.

"How can you tell it's a police car?" I asked him.

"How do you not know?" he asked - and then he pointed out one very clear indication and explained what it was. He told me that one time while on a checkpoint, a car approached. The men inside were in regular clothes; the license plate on the car a regular Israeli license plate. In Israel, we have the standard yellow background with black numbers, red background with white letters (police); black background with white letters (army); and white background with green numbers (usually non-Israeli Arab vehicles.

As the car approached, he said something to the policemen. "How do you know we are policemen?" one asked Elie.

"How could anyone not know?" Elie answered him. First, Israeli cars weren't allowed in that area - only Arab vehicles. Second - there was the same tell-tale sign Elie pointed out to me. "Do you think the Arabs can't tell that you're police?" has asked them. "They know better than anyone."

Well, I didn't know - although now I do. Of course, that isn't going to change how I drive, but at least now, I can smile a bit. I won't say what the thing is, but after Elie described this scene with the police officers, I could just see them pulling up and having this young soldier blow their cover. They thought they were so cool, so anonymous...and this 20-year-old kid IDs them. Yeah, I love it.

Anger Comes from Fear?

2011-11-20T01:06:00.000+02:00

I heard a man speak tonight at a meeting I went to. I went in expecting the meeting to be a disappointment and it went as expected. Perhaps to prepare the participants for what was to come, the meeting coordinators asked a rabbi to come give an introduction - a bit of Torah wisdom, they said.

Interestingly enough, the rabbi they asked to speak is one that is relatively new to the community (the rabbi of many years has resigned recently; he like several others choosing to take himself and his prayers elsewhere). So this man stood up and I listened to him, knowing that he was somewhat involved in some of the nastiness - not so much in the causing of it, but in ignoring it and helping find a way to increase the hurt it caused.

I was raised on the principle that those who ignore evil claim a hand in promoting it. I believe this rabbi certainly helped promote it and was curious to see what he would say. He served his purpose well. The community, or much of it, is still saddened by the rabbi choosing to resign; this man stood up and announced the synagogue didn't really need a rabbi - and if it did, he would apply for the job. He then suggested a "rabbinical council" be established.

The well known phrase "all that is needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." is a principle that guides my life. This rabbi was one of many who stood by and let evil prevail - and then he stood up tonight to lecture the crowd. When he was finished, the meeting was every bit as nasty as I'd expected and resulted in continuing much of the same nonsense that has been for a long time. The politics of it was not a surprise, nor the failings of those who stood in silence while the actions of some were condoned...or at least ignored.

Though it would serve some right if I were to write about the nastiness that prompted this post, I rather focus now on a philosophical question the rabbi presented. He said, "anger comes from fear" and the phrase stuck in my mind. I can believe that anger could be a defense mechanism over something you fear, but no, I don't accept that anger comes from fear.

You can be angry because you fear something; you can fear something that makes you angry. But no - there is not always a direct connection. Anger can result from abuse - as it does in this case. Anger can result from hypocrisy - as it does here as well.

Fear? No...fear is an interesting emotion and in some ways, it is actually the opposite of anger. I think fear cripples you while anger can spur you to action. Fear makes you doubt, perhaps makes you timid enough to accept injustice; anger can make you study a situation more carefully seeking a resolution.

Neither emotion sits well - we work to resolve both because neither is particularly healthy but fear is internal, I think, while anger is external. It is rarely possible to exorcise real fear because this is typically caused by events outside your control. The cause is usually external - the emotion buried deep inside (internal). I felt real fear when Elie went to war, on nights I knew he or Shmulik were "out there." I felt real fear the night Israel went into Syria to bomb the makings of a nuclear site...I had the fear, even without the knowledge of what was happening. None of these things were in my control - none could be resolved by any action I could take. I felt fear when I lived in New York and a young man entered the building just after me and grabbed my necklace and ran. All these are externally caused; felt deep inside.

By contrast, anger is something you can control. I can choose to be angry about the actions of others - something one man did to hurt my family, lies told about something we never said, etc. - or I can choose to exorcise that anger with faith. I firmly believe that the injustices done in this world are part of an accounting. We do not know how this accounting is tallied but I believe it is just. It is therefore up to us to have the faith to trust this accounting rather than give in to the anger we feel.

The anger that comes from someone publicly wronging you - can be resolved - not by fear and not by lies, but by a faith deep enough to believe that all things happen for a reason, even the lies others tell. Where there is no justice delivered by others, you can deliver justice yourself by accepting and letting the anger wash away. Today, this man wins...but really, hasn't he already lost more than he gained by these disgusting actions? The blessings in my life, my children, the wedding last year and now again this year - all these wash the anger away and help me to focus on the important things.

Years ago, a young boy ran into the path of my car. He smashed into the side of the car, denting it just above the wheel. The impact of this collision caused him to fall back, crack his skull, break his shoulder and get a concussion. Though he recuperated completely, I agonized for a long time wondering if there was anything I could have done to prevent his being injured. Ultimately, I realized that had I been traveling any slower - he would have been in front of my car and likely crushed and killed, rather than hitting the side of my car and bouncing off. As badly as he was hurt, it could have been so much worse.

He hit my car; I didn't hit him. He ran between a wall and a car - too short for me to see him as he ran without looking into the street. A friend who was there at the time came over to me and said that I had to ask myself why God had chosen for this to happen, to this boy, to me, at that time of the year (right before Rosh Hashana). Though I've lost a great deal of respect for this person since that time - he was one of several who stood and did nothing when evil lashed out at an innocent person - there was something in what he said that day.

If you believe that all things have a purpose and are part of a greater plan - the anger melts away. As the anger goes, there is acceptance. In this world and in the next, we all pay for what we do in this world. If you've been wronged - there is comfort in this concept and so the anger goes.

Does anger come from fear? No, it really doesn't. It does come from a lack of faith, of trusting God to seek justice where man fails. How does this relate to being a soldier's mother? I guess it doesn't except that Elie and Shmulik are angry about the same situation. One son tells us to just leave the place that has caused us this pain; the second says to blow it up sky-high so that all can see the hypocrisy and the evil done. Tonight's meeting sets me free - as I have not been in more than 8 months.

For all that time, I hoped for a resolution, a way out. Tonight's meeting proved that was a false hope, proved that evil will triumph with the help of good people. Tonight, good people not only helped, they led the battle. I think as parents, our role is to teach our children to have faith - faith that where man often fails, God never does. I left the meeting angry but that melts away as I focus on the richness of what I do have.

Several friends stood by us tonight - as angry and disgusted as we were. Several called or sent us messages telling us that they care. Elie is getting married to a wonderful girl; Shmulik is happy; my daughter is a mother, thrilled with her baby and her husband. My family continues to grow.

As for anger - no - it doesn't come from fear. It comes from a momentary loss of focus - when we forget, even for an instance, that there is a greater Hand at play.

Sitting in the Hot Seat

2011-11-15T18:29:00.000+02:00

Sounds like a great title, no? You're wanting to know who is sitting in the hot seat...and what they did to get there right?

Well - let me explain.

About four years ago, we bought a really cool Honda Civic Hybrid - with seats that have this wonderful automatic warming system. We bought the car at the end of December...it was cold...well, at least as cold as Israel gets. I turned this wonderful thing on...the first day, it was heaven. The second day, it was heaven. By the third day, I felt like my bones were melting. I've barely used it since.

A few days ago, by accident, I clicked the heat onto HIGH on the driver's seat and as expected, it warmed the seat very nicely...um...only I wasn't sitting in there - it was another one of those great days that Elie was driving me around to give me more time for my ankle to heal. The problem was, when he told me what I'd done...I laughed. I might have gotten away with it - it was an accident, after all, if I hadn't laughed. Drat.

Since then, the little sneak has been turning MY seat on...and laughing when I realize that IT'S HOT!

So, once again today, I was sitting in the hot seat...and I can't even tell you that I'm going to get him back because I have a problem - no, Elie doesn't read the blog, Shmulik doesn't read the blog - I'm not even sure if my own mother reads the blog...oy, but Lauren does!

And her mother (a wonderful lady I'm looking forward to meeting)...and apparently, half the people I know - somehow have connections to Lauren that I didn't even know about. Two of my former students...a friend in town who is friends with one of Lauren's aunt/uncle...so, I'm surrendering my freedom a bit. Oh, it's so incredibly worth it...just a new reality - sort of like putting me in the hot seat :-)

So...since there might be spies, I can't tell you when...but one day soon, that switch is going on high! And this time, it won't be by accident!

The Whats and Whys of Migration - Israel-Style

2011-11-14T09:02:00.001+02:00

I can explain the science of it, the wonder of it, or I can show you.

Science will explain that the land of Israel is the bridge between Asia and Africa, perhaps even Europe. Science will explain that as it becomes cold in Europe, huge numbers of birds migrate south to Africa and then make the return trip as Europe begins to warm in the Spring. Science will tell you of air currents and pathways, of bird habits and such. Science can explain the what, but not the why - the why is found in the wonder.

The wonder of it is looking up and seeing huge amounts of birds flying in one direction or another, circling the land as if to show off their beauty, a thanks, perhaps, for our brief hospitality before they move on. Perhaps, just perhaps, they feel the holiness here and want to spend that extra bit of time flying through the air, looking down upon this wonderful land. The why, I think, is a joining of land and sky for that brief period of time, twice a year.

The pilots who fly our skies hate it but the rest of us, I hope, take the time to look up and welcome them. To see the colors, the shapes, the grace.

But sometimes words don't work nearly as well as pictures and so - I offer you the wonder of Israel's skies (with a thanks to @thekotel).

Bird Migration above Israel - Autumn 2011 from Yuval dax on Vimeo.

And lest you think...

2011-11-13T11:50:00.001+02:00

And lest you think Elie has suddenly grown out of who he is as a result of being engaged, please meet my donut.

It's a tradition in Israel to eat filled donuts (usually jelly donuts) around Hanuka time. Somehow, this has stretched to weeks before the actual holiday and fillings beyond jelly. I usually don't buy these donuts until the actual holiday, and even then, usually only once or twice during the entire 8 days.

But today, I was happy and hungry and decided to treat Elie (and me). Two donuts - with caramel filling. He ate his even before we reached the office. I saved mine. I smeared the caramel on the top a bit and licked my finger but left it whole moments after Elie had finished his.

I wanted to enjoy my donut and not think about calories and oil and stuff and so...I put it on my desk and went to get a drink. I am one of those people who really need to drink something whenever I eat. A fresh bottle of cold water and I was almost ready to enjoy it...except students started arriving. I answered questions from some people who walked in, helped get the current class started.

I went to my desk and found...well, this. My whole donut...had some missing tell-tale signs of invasion. Too large for mouse bites (thankfully) and really, it was quite obvious what had happened.

Ah, Elie - may your life with Lauren be as sweet as the donuts you ate (yours and mine) and may you always, always be who you are.

Overflowing with News...

2011-11-13T10:36:00.006+02:00

I should begin with the most exciting, but if I do, it will overpower all else. But then again, I guess that's the way these things are. So let me go straight to it.

The story I have to tell, can best be told on Facebook. On his page, the posts are in Hebrew; on her page, they are in English. In both pages (and mine) the message is the same. A joining of two worlds, two families. Some long time ago, an amazing young woman decided to move to Israel and googled to find blogs of others who had done the same.

Somehow - perhaps by the very Hand of God...she found my blog. I can search back in old emails to find the first time she wrote to me, the first answer I gave her. Somehow, it became a connection in which I encouraged her to do something very hard, something I had never had to do.

I moved to Israel with a husband and three small children, very much in love with my family, my life, and a commitment to build everything here as we had started to do there. It was harder for her - because she was coming alone and without a family. It might be easier, I think I wrote to her, because she didn't have to uproot children, but like us, she was leaving behind parents and grandparents and siblings who love her dearly. We had each other; she would have so much less.

So she moved to Israel and we fell in love with her the first time she came to our house. My youngest daughter had a new older sister - one who seems to have infinite patience. Lauren came to Aliza's birthday party and helped deal with 20 little girls and keep them entertained, while I was ready to collapse from the sheer noise and excitement. She's around the same age as my oldest daughter - and there too, it was an instant hit. Separate from us, Lauren goes to them; Amira talks to her. My older daughter finally has the sister I couldn't give her, in addition to the younger sister I did. Lauren is the same age and so they share this connection. As much as Amira adores Aliza (and in reverse), they are not contemporaries. Amira is now married and has a baby; Aliza is still excited about being a school guard for a week.

Lauren seems to have fit in with everyone (she even loves our dog). My youngest son is at that difficult age of 15 where he is finding himself - and Lauren finds patience for him too. She doesn't treat him like the troublesome younger brother and with Shmulik and Naama, there is that great connection as well. Naama and Lauren share an interest in the same field of education and helping special needs children.

But the real story, apparently, is Elie and Lauren. I'd like to say I knew all along. The truth is, I didn't know, but I hoped. They seem so similar, like so many of the same things. She accepts him as he is - for the wonder and for the faults. And on Friday, they came to our home with a birthday present for me - a mug filled with chocolate (could she be any more perfect for our family?) and a nice birthday card. The mug was a present...but the real present, said the card...is the new daughter-in-law they bring to me.

I am...beyond filled with happiness. May they grow together and build a true house in Israel. Mazel tov to my wonderful son and new daughter...

Perhaps the cutest line goes to Aliza - "Ima, we need to buy a new table." Long ago, moments after Aliza was born, I told my wonderful husband that "my table is full" - this was, I knew, what God had intended for us. It seems that I underestimated God and my table. So, I'll add another blessing here as well - please God, please continue to bless my table and may it never be fully full. Thank you for adding three more precious children to my family - Haim and Naama and now Lauren.

And to Lauren's family - mazel tov and thank you. I hope you'll love Elie as much as we love Lauren and that we will all share many, many happy times together.

Update on the Ankle

2011-11-06T13:24:00.000+02:00

So - I went to the doctor and the doctor said, "no more monkey's jumping on the bed."

Sorry - whenever I start with "went to the doctor and the doctor said" - the child's song goes through my head.

So - I went to the doctor and he said...

According to the Ottawa Ankle Bone Injury Rules...of which I had never heard...doctors have decided that if a basketball player can walk off the court, there will be no x-ray and, by not doing this x-ray, they have cut the cost of such treatments by 54%.

So, as the likelihood is that it is not broken...why waste funds doing the x-ray? So, my doctor did not feel an x-ray was necessary - I was able to walk/hobble.

I stayed off it as much as possible, favored the left leg, and avoided steps...which are agony.

The doctor said I could even drive, though I pointed out that I really did not feel that I could. He suggested that if I wanted to be over-cautious, that was fine but I really don't think I was being over-cautious...or even cautious. I am still not sure that I have the ability to press the gas, never mind the break, adequately enough not to make a nuisance of myself, or worse. No, I do not have full mobility of my ankle but it is getting better.

Now, several days later, much of the sides of the foot are black and blue (the ankle is yellowish) and I am able to walk upstairs like a normal person and not a 2-year-old. I still feel pressure when my leg is not elevated, but I have again mastered general walking and going upstairs.

Downstairs, well that's another day and another story but the hobble is now definitely a walk and I'm pretty sure I'd be in a lot more pain if the ankle were broken.

No, I'm not impressed with Ottawa - because the goal of medical care should be to do what is best for the patient. Had the results indicated a 54% cut in radiation, I might have been sold on the idea of waiting but the source I found focused on the monetary benefits and not the medical ones.

Should I have had an x-ray? I guess Ottawa won out and I didn't need one.

Shmulik, Sheep, and Stories

2011-11-05T19:21:00.000+02:00

I feel like I write a lot about Elie's stories and less about Shmulik's experiences and feelings. There are reasons for that. Shmulik chose to enter the Hesder program. This cut his active service time to a year and four months rather than 3 years. He will do his Reserve Duty yearly, as Elie will, for the next 20 years of his life. In addition to this year and four months, he will dedicate more than three years of his life to studying. With the six months of training, there were about 8 months in which he served as S. driver. Much of what happened remains confidential; only bits and pieces come out.

The other day, Shmulik and I were driving to Jerusalem (read here that he was driving and I was enjoying being driven). I mentioned how few stories I had and he explained, as I have above, why that is so. I don't remember how the conversation talked to propaganda and lies, but it did. I told him the recent story (Liars, Just Liars).

And that's when I got his story. Shmulik and S. got a call. A Bedouin filed a complaint that "settlers" burned his sheep. They were duly disgusted. Torturing the innocent - whether human or animal, is not the Jewish way, not the Israeli way - despite what the Palestinians will tell you. They took the complaint seriously and went to investigate...and investigate they did.

It turns out - the Bedouin set a field of thorns on fire. It is an amazingly common way to clear a field and I've seen it many times here. The first time I saw it, I went running into an office telling them a field was on fire. The people inside got up to look, saw the hilltop on fire, said "it's okay" and went back to work.

Sure enough, the fields burn themselves clear and then are replanted or whatever is required. In this case, the Bedouin miscalculated and the fire was driven with winds to surround his sheep and began burning them. Nearby settlers - yes, those people that have been maligned as evil occupiers by Arabs and the media, came to help. They put out the fire, were thanked, and left.

Then the Bedouin realized - Israel compensates for many violent acts. If your car is damaged by rock throwers - you'll get it fixed at the State's expense. If your house is damaged by a rocket. The State will come in and fix it. There's an investigation to make sure you aren't trying to steal from the State, and then it is fixed. So the Bedouin hoped Israel would pay for the sheep he had accidentally killed. The story of the settlers murdering his poor sheep was widely reported; the truth was not.

There is what is probably the most well known story - of a picture printed. What the New York Times and others told you that you were seeing...is a Palestinian boy on Jerusalem's Temple Mount, being attacked by an Israeli policeman. The policeman looks vicious with his club, the boy is clearly battered and bloody.

There are several problems with this story. First, if you know the Temple Mount, you know there are no gas stations up there. Right behind the policeman, is a sign for a gas station. So clearly, it was not taken on the Temple Mount.

What happened, in fact the young man was identified by his father, Dr. Aaron Grossman, who wrote to the New York Times demanding a retraction. The boy was not an "unidentified Palestinian" but a young Tuvia Grossman, who was learning in Israel. He was in a taxi with other boys when a mob of Palestinians surrounded the taxi, smashed its windows with rocks and grabbed Tuvia and the others and dragged them out.

As Tuvia was being beaten, an Israeli policeman approached, screaming for the Arabs to back off. This is the picture the New York Times published. It took several retractions before the New York Times finally got the story right, but the damage remained. A lie repeated over and over, Israel and Israelis condemned. The full story about Tuvia is written here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tuvia_Grossman) and many other places.

I'm now in a debate with a young woman from Sweden. She says that Jews and Arabs are telling her different stories and she doesn't know which to believe. "Why would they lie?" she asks me and I want to ask why she thinks they would tell her the truth. Ask them for names, I told her - names and not numbers.

I can give her names. Names that will break her heart and proof for all actions. A man wrote that we had bombed and killed 9 Palestinians on a Saturday afternoon and that is what began the recent "round" of violence. But they bombed Beersheva on Wednesday - and the 9 Palestinians were killed in two places. One was an Islamic Jihad training camp, the other was a rocket launching site eliminated seconds before they shot another rocket at Israel.

The one Israeli killed during this latest fighting was a 59-year-old father of four. He was driving his car, not shooting rockets or training in a terrorist camp. Our enemies win world opinion because they play the numbers game - nine dead is worse than one, isn't it? They say the response from Israel's accurate hits is not proportional to Hamas' inaccurate "home-made" rockets - but the rockets aren't home-made, and even if they aren't accurate, they still kill, maim, destroy.

I guess - from Elie and Shmulik, from Tuvia and from others - we must learn to wait for the truth. Israelis didn't trip the little Arab girl. Israelis didn't burn the sheep. Israelis didn't beat the boy. If only the Arabs could say the same about so many thousands of people and actions. Arabs did blow up the Sbarro Pizzeria - Ahlam Tamimi is proud of it, and Malki Roth and 7 other children (and 7 adults) died and 130 were wounded. Arabs did murder five members of the Fogel family and the Awad cousins from the village of Awarta are proud of their actions.

The details are in the names, not the numbers. When the world understands this and demands accountability - then, maybe, we will be closer to peace in the Middle East.

Limping Along...

2011-11-03T19:56:00.000+02:00

So, I have always felt that high heels was a painful invention created by men. I know, I know - that isn't fair. There are probably plenty of women footwear designers and besides, who told us to wear them anyway, right? And anyway, they weren't THAT high...and they weren't spiked heels. Nice wide heels that I bought for a special occasion. And they are a really good brand. And they were expensive and orthopedic and comfortable.

And you really should be careful when you dance with shoes that aren't, well, flat. Oh, and Israeli dancing is wonderful - you kick one foot forward, you kick the other foot forward...you jump forward, you jump back...and...ouch. My ankle buckled violently to the right and for the first few minutes, I was not at all sure it wasn't broken (I'm only mostly convinced now that it wasn't).

So, I sprained my ankle good and well and with it, learned yet again the blessings of my sons. The wedding was wonderful. Dear friends. A beautiful bride; a handsome groom. Friends. Music. Chaim is back in Israel starting his studies. He came back last week and I've been so happy knowing he is close again. He is friends with the chatan (the groom); and we are friends of the bride's family. We met Chaim in Jerusalem and drove him to the wedding. It's so good to have him back here.

He sat next to my husband at the wedding and then I lost sight of him until it was time to sit down - then I saw he was at the next table with friends his age. After my ankle buckled, it was important for me to get away and out of sight of the other dancers. As soon as I felt I could walk, I limped painfully and slowly back to my table on the other side of the room. I wasn't at all sure at that point that I wasn't going to be sick to my stomach. I was so light-headed; I was shivering; and my ankle was screaming in pain.

Friends came over and were asking me if I was okay. All I wanted was for them to leave me alone so I could concentrate on not being sick and not passing out from the pain. Someone brought me a drink and despite feeling sick, I sipped slowly. Someone brought me tea - and that helped a bit. Someone brought me Tylenol and I hoped it would kick in soon. I asked someone if they could find my husband - I'm not sure what he could of done other than just be there, but they didn't see him.

And then, suddenly, Chaim came over and saw that something was wrong. I was sitting at the table in excruciating pain with my foot up on a chair. Chaim was...Chaim. Sweet, concerned, talking in a voice that just calmed me. Everyone else's voice bothered me while everything Chaim said made sense. They wanted me to put ice on my foot...Chaim came over and just took over. A friend and her husband tied ice around my ankle. Chaim redid that and just stuck close.

They brought dinner over and Chaim went back to his table to eat and others sat down. I couldn't bring myself to eat. I just kept smiling when people asked if I was okay and lied through my teeth. Sure, it feels a bit better (no, it doesn't). I'm fine (no, I'm not). Chaim came back and we all decided to leave. I told Chaim I wanted to go outside - I needed to get away from people. He wouldn't let me go alone. He helped me walk outside, afraid that I was going to fall. My leg only buckled a bit once and I made it first to a chair outside and then up to the ramp where Lazer was bringing the car. Chaim stayed with me the whole time, helping me to get into the car.

There is an issue of not touching men to whom you are not related. I felt uncomfortable having Chaim help me. "They'll think you're my mother," he said at one point. I smiled and asked him if his mother comes to live in Israel, if I'd have to give him up. His answer was, "you can have two mothers." He was...he was Chaim. Just amazing. I felt so much better, so much calmer having him there.

Elie called just as I was getting in the car. "Tell him to help you when you get home," Chaim said to me. I told Elie what happened and he told me to call him when I got home. As we got close, we called and he came down to help me up the stairs. Slowly, helped pull me out of the car to a standing position. He walked next to me very slowly, letting me take tiny steps. He was instructing me how to move, where to put my weight, how to hold on. He helped me to my room, brought me pain killers and water. He was wonderful...

The next day, I stayed home and worked from the dining room table. Elie helped make dinner. Aliza warmed food up for me and brought it to me.

Yesterday, I had no choice but to come to the office. Shmulik offered to drive me in and even let me off very close to the elevator so I didn't have to walk far. Later, he picked me up mid-afternoon to take me to meet friends - parents of a wonderful young man who left his home in America to come join the Israeli army. Though the army has not really treated him fairly after a training accident left him injured, J. remains committed to Israel and has been rebuilding his health and his life here. His parents called and I wanted to meet them. Shmulik dropped me off in front of a mall and slowly I made my way to meet these special people who have become friends.

Shmulik joined us for a time and we spoke of cars and Israel, their son and mine. Finally, we took our leave and I slowly walked with Shmulik back to the car. At one point, I had to walk up about 30 stairs. From the bottom, in pain, it was a daunting sight. I leaned on Shmulik much of the way and then at the top, he took all the bags and went to get the car and drove it to the closest point possible.

He drove home and helped me up the stairs and back to my room. My ankle is swollen and there are huge black and blue marks on the side and although I can put my weight on the foot, it is still painful to walk. If I twist it at all, a shooting pain goes up my leg.

Despite this, I feel so loved by these amazing sons of mine - from Chaim at the wedding to Elie and Shmulik at home...I feel so blessed.