Yesterday, David went back to where it began more than 2 years ago. Last week, he turned in his rifle; two days ago, he returned to his base to sign the final forms.
And yesterday, finally, he returned to the induction center in Tel Hashomer and gave back his military ID. He will spend the next 10 months learning in the yeshiva, contemplating and preparing for what he will do next.
He is thinking of college, of a career. Regularly, he is attending weddings of his friends and I know thoughts of his future fill his mind. He is so strong, so special. His life stretches out in front of him and I know that as it unfolds, the past two years will remain a part of the man he is and will be.
What will remain of the boy he was and the man he is as he transitions into "civilian" life will be interesting. My heart is filled with joy and gratitude and I cannot begin to express the relief of looking days and months and years into the future after living for so many years trying only to think about today. Today, he is safe. Today, he will come home. Today, he goes back...but a few more todays, and he will be home again. Today. Today. Today.
Now as I leave yesterday, I see the tomorrows and finally, face them without fear.
I posted yesterday to Facebook the following message and got hundreds of responses.
Like much of this blog, this message posted to Facebook seems to have touched so many people.
I can still remember that moment when I started the blog 11 years ago. The first thing that I confronted was the question of what title I would give this blog...
I remember having many thoughts - about my oldest child getting married and a series of "firsts", about going through a series of lasts - last time I had a child in nursery school, in kindergarten, starting first grade.
Each seemed to be a transition in life but the elements were known, the expectations more basic.
And I had a son going into the Israeli army - a world of unknowns, a blend of such emotions, such turmoil.
As I stared at that emtpy field, slowly an idea began to form. Of all the "usual" challenges in my life, the one that seemed to huge, so unknown...was the army. a name came to mind and I decided to begin with what I would be. A. Soldier's. Mother.
Each word was significant.
"A" because I was one of many, even thousands, even tens of thousands.
"Soldier" because that was different from any other type of mothering I had done up to that day.
And "Mother" because despite all that I am, this has been a constant in my life for over 30 years now and will forever define a huge part of what I am.
Yesterday, in some significant way, that identity has changed. On paper (and in my mind), I am still "a soldier's mother" but to be honest, today and for the next 18 years, I will be more a "reserve" soldier's mother and there is a world of difference.
And yes, while in Reserve duty (Miluim), he was called to war and in war, it doesn't matter if your son is in Miluim or in the Standing army. But when his Miluim involves training and rarely includes staying on base over Shabbat, life seems so different and the stress so much less.
For weeks now, knowing this day would come, I have been battling what I would do. I could continue this blog...but really, what more can I write (at least here). I am a writer - I have the need to write, to share my thoughts in words.
That won't change. But what has changed is here, this place that I have created, and this journey on which you have joined me.
In eleven years, three sons (in three different combat units) and a daughter have served (in Sherut Leumi - national service).
Three have gotten married; five grandchildren have been born. We bought and sold a house, said goodbye to three beloved pets. We bought and sold a bunch of cars (don't ask me how many).
I have traveled to Europe and Asia and touched every one of Israel's borders. My home has been targeted by missiles at least three times. I have heard Iron Dome shoot a missile out of the sky and gone running into bomb shelters many times.
Life is the greatest gift God gives to us and my love and faith and gratitude to God knows no bounds.
Yesterday, David stood down. Today, I stand down.
Please keep following my writing - it appears in many places (some listed below).
To my parents and siblings and in-laws - thank you for all your prayers, for being on this journey with us.
To my children...thank you for making me your mother, for putting up with me when I drive you crazy, for loving each other. Thank you for bringing me three amazing spouses and five amazing grandchildren (and Elie, thanks for Yakov and Chaim).
And to all of you who have come along - from the first moment to the last...thank you for sharing in this life-changing time.
Thank you for all the prayers you have shared, all the amazing comments over the years.
Leaving you all is the hardest part of ending this blog and I hope you'll catch me on the other side - in other places.
And yesterday, finally, he returned to the induction center in Tel Hashomer and gave back his military ID. He will spend the next 10 months learning in the yeshiva, contemplating and preparing for what he will do next.He is thinking of college, of a career. Regularly, he is attending weddings of his friends and I know thoughts of his future fill his mind. He is so strong, so special. His life stretches out in front of him and I know that as it unfolds, the past two years will remain a part of the man he is and will be.
What will remain of the boy he was and the man he is as he transitions into "civilian" life will be interesting. My heart is filled with joy and gratitude and I cannot begin to express the relief of looking days and months and years into the future after living for so many years trying only to think about today. Today, he is safe. Today, he will come home. Today, he goes back...but a few more todays, and he will be home again. Today. Today. Today.Now as I leave yesterday, I see the tomorrows and finally, face them without fear.
I posted yesterday to Facebook the following message and got hundreds of responses.
And we are done...11 years of having sons in the army (minus a small break at one point)...have finished. Last week, David gave back his rifle; yesterday he signed the final papers on base and today he returned his "hoger" - his military I.D.
Tomorrow, he returns to his yeshiva to begin again the life of a religious young man, learning and looking forward.
If I look at the boy he was...and the man he has become, I am so grateful...and relieved.
There are few more horrible things in life than sending your son to an army...and few things more amazing. Today, he is physically stronger than when he went in, more sure of who he is.
It is a special privilege and honor, a special kind of heaven and a special kind of hell to have a son serve his country. There are things they see and learn that any normal parent would give years off their lives to avoid.
In the end, my sons know that when their country called them, they answered. When they were needed, they stepped forward. Not all do.
For all his life, Elie will always remember that he was Artillery; Shmulik will remember he was Kfir, and Davidi will always be Givati.
In honor they served and with the grace and protection of God, we are done.
His rifle will be given to another son, another who will stand on Israel's borders because the fight continues; the war seemingly never ends. May God bless the soldiers of Israel, who stand on our borders, serve in every capacity to make this great machine we know as the army run.
And may God bless the mothers of soldiers (and the fathers too). It is one of the hardest things I have ever been called upon to do. It is nights of fear...and pride; days of terror and uncertainty...
And they are days and weeks and months and years in which you know that despite it all, your son or daughter is doing something that Jews only dreamed about doing for 2,000 years...defending our land.
May my son (all my sons and daughters) go from strength to strength in pride and honor.
Like much of this blog, this message posted to Facebook seems to have touched so many people.
I can still remember that moment when I started the blog 11 years ago. The first thing that I confronted was the question of what title I would give this blog...
I remember having many thoughts - about my oldest child getting married and a series of "firsts", about going through a series of lasts - last time I had a child in nursery school, in kindergarten, starting first grade. Each seemed to be a transition in life but the elements were known, the expectations more basic.
And I had a son going into the Israeli army - a world of unknowns, a blend of such emotions, such turmoil.
As I stared at that emtpy field, slowly an idea began to form. Of all the "usual" challenges in my life, the one that seemed to huge, so unknown...was the army. a name came to mind and I decided to begin with what I would be. A. Soldier's. Mother.
Each word was significant.
"A" because I was one of many, even thousands, even tens of thousands.
"Soldier" because that was different from any other type of mothering I had done up to that day.
And "Mother" because despite all that I am, this has been a constant in my life for over 30 years now and will forever define a huge part of what I am.
Yesterday, in some significant way, that identity has changed. On paper (and in my mind), I am still "a soldier's mother" but to be honest, today and for the next 18 years, I will be more a "reserve" soldier's mother and there is a world of difference.
My worrying will be contained to a few days or weeks a year, and perhaps not even that. Elie goes on reserve duty, drives around the desert or the mountains, camps out, shoots a bit, and comes home...mostly.
And yes, while in Reserve duty (Miluim), he was called to war and in war, it doesn't matter if your son is in Miluim or in the Standing army. But when his Miluim involves training and rarely includes staying on base over Shabbat, life seems so different and the stress so much less.For weeks now, knowing this day would come, I have been battling what I would do. I could continue this blog...but really, what more can I write (at least here). I am a writer - I have the need to write, to share my thoughts in words.
That won't change. But what has changed is here, this place that I have created, and this journey on which you have joined me.
In eleven years, three sons (in three different combat units) and a daughter have served (in Sherut Leumi - national service). Three have gotten married; five grandchildren have been born. We bought and sold a house, said goodbye to three beloved pets. We bought and sold a bunch of cars (don't ask me how many).
I have traveled to Europe and Asia and touched every one of Israel's borders. My home has been targeted by missiles at least three times. I have heard Iron Dome shoot a missile out of the sky and gone running into bomb shelters many times.
Life is the greatest gift God gives to us and my love and faith and gratitude to God knows no bounds.
Yesterday, David stood down. Today, I stand down. Please keep following my writing - it appears in many places (some listed below).
Drop me a note whenever you want to PaulaInIsrael@gmail.com.
And finally, and perhaps most important of all...as I stand down, I offer my thanks.
To God...thank You for never making me write the post that would have killed me. Thank You for guarding my babies, watching them, protecting them.
To my husband...thank you for your patience...for all the times I needed to write and you patiently stood by as I did. Thank you for sharing this journey with me, for holding me when I cried, for trying to calm me from all the amazingly idiotic things I imagined. Thank you for the love you've given me for more than half my life.
To my parents and siblings and in-laws - thank you for all your prayers, for being on this journey with us.To my children...thank you for making me your mother, for putting up with me when I drive you crazy, for loving each other. Thank you for bringing me three amazing spouses and five amazing grandchildren (and Elie, thanks for Yakov and Chaim).
And to all of you who have come along - from the first moment to the last...thank you for sharing in this life-changing time.
Thank you for all the prayers you have shared, all the amazing comments over the years.
Leaving you all is the hardest part of ending this blog and I hope you'll catch me on the other side - in other places.
And one final note - to all the mothers of soldiers (and yes, to the fathers as well). There are no guarantees on this journey. No one call tell you now that in a month, or a year or five years or 11 years, you'll reach this point that I have been blessed to reach. All you can do is live for today and pray for your child. Rejoice each time you speak with him (or her). Celebrate the moment and build your life looking forward. Take pictures but don't obsess over them; hug your child and don't hold them back.
Have faith...because that is what will see you through. Hold on to each day...and if you need to, each hour and even each minute.
May God watch over your child and keep him or her safe. May God watch over all our children and bless them.
Beautifully written, as always.
ReplyDeleteThanks for all the times you helped me understand what the heck they were talking about!
DeleteWhat a tremendously moving post. You have taken us all on a long journey dear Paula, sharing your deepest feelings on this blog. We have cried with you at times and rejoiced with you at others. Now together with you we all sigh with relief that the long journey of your third son's IDF service has safely reached its end, Baruch Hashem. May you shep naches from your wonderful family and may their days in miluim cause you no lack of sleep. I for one look forward to following your other blogs. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this inspiring blog!!
ReplyDeletePaula, thank YOU - for allowing us into your life, into your home and into your heart during this journey. All the blog entries that I read - those wonderful posts that you, as A Soldier's Mother wrote, the tears - of sadness when you were worried, and of joy when they would be back again and at home for Shabbat - all the things in between - made me feel like I was part of the scenario sitting in on your life.
ReplyDeleteI haven't had the Honour of being A Soldier's Mother - and yes - to me it would have been a true Honour. So I have lived vicariously through you, Paula - I thank you very much again, for putting all of yourself and your family out here for all of us to share.
I will absolutely miss your blog, but I am looking forward to the other side - I am sure there will be lots to see and catch up with!!!!!!
May all our Soldiers' Mothers and Fathers have Faith and Believe - G-d is watching and there is a special blessing He has for our children - He keeps them safe.
Ameyn!
ReplyDeletePaula, I live in the United States and you are a recent discovery for me. Thank you for being a writer ( I mostly follow you on Facebook) and thank you for loving Israel. Much good luck to your family. Israel is strong because of it's mothers.
ReplyDeleteGd willing
ReplyDeleteA beautiful post! I will continue to follow your writings. Your description of the title A Soldiers Mother is so perfect. I'm thankful your son is coming home!
ReplyDeleteDear Paula,
ReplyDeleteI have followed your blog for many years now, not always and not every post, but most of them. You are saying, you won’t be a soldier‘s mother anymore, but what about your youngest daughter? Won’t she have to serve as well?
Kind regards,
Susanne
Yes - my youngest daughter, like her older sister - will be doing what we call National Service. She will be working in a special school for children who are in some very challenging conditions and she will offer them her love, her knowledge, and her support as they navigate and are navigated through the legal system in Israel.
DeleteI have always felt that everyone should serve - men and women, religious and secular. For those who do not fit within the framework of the military, Israel has a national service program that serves in vital and even life-saving roles. The strength of Israel is in how we diversify to meet all needs. We can't all drive tanks - the army and Israel doesn't need that. But for the tank to drive, we need those who do the maintenance, those who feed the soldiers, those who clean the bunks, order the supplies, and yes, even those who help their families while they are away, who watch over and help their children. So many roles, so many people - all honored and honorable service and I am immensely proud of all my children. Four out of five (the youngest hates blood), have volunteered for the Magen David Adom national ambulance service; two were security guards (paid but still life-saving jobs). My husband is a volunteer policeman in his spare time...and my daughters have volunteered and served their country as well.
This final post gives me so many emotions and I cannot help but share them. It somehow seems wrong not to. Firstly, my heart swells with joy that you’ve transitioned from ‘A Soldiers Mother’ to ‘A Reserve Soldiers Mother’. For near a decade, every time I hear about something happening in Israel, I’ve said a quiet prayer for you and your family and a prayer that Elie, Shmulik, and (in more recent years) Davidi are well and unharmed.
ReplyDeleteIt is difficult to describe what this blog has meant to me over the years. I discovered it nearly a decade ago, a young girl with deeply biased views of Israel and the IDF. This blog single-handedly changed me both politically and intellectually in so many ways that it are so difficult to name. Your blog taught me to be skeptical of the news I watch, the importance of looking at a bigger picture, it taught me to ask tough questions about the ‘who’ and the ‘why’ that too many people forget to ask when they are swallowing up media and making snap judgments. In other words, this blog has helped me grow as a human being and an intellectual, and I am forever grateful for the lessons I’ve learned through it.
In a way this blog also gave me an extended family, in a strange (and I’m sure to them, no doubt perverse) way I feel like I grew up with Elie, Shmulik, Chaim and Yakov and that I watched Davidi and Aliza grow up. You brought the world into your home, and made us love and admire your family though your eyes, so the world can see the real humanity behind the IDF and the reality of being Israeli.
Above all else though, you made me fall head-over-heels in love with Israel – it’s history, it’s majestic beauty, it’s determined and passionate citizenry, it’s dignity in the face of so much hatred and biased propaganda.
So thank you Paula! Thank you for giving the world a wonderful window of perspective to look through. Your fear, joy, pain, worry, exultation, fury and passion has been truly transformative to behold and from a constant long time reader, please accept my thanks and gratitude for it.
shalom ulehitraot
Alicia De Sa