The Waves that Come After Terror

 Last night, I dreamed. I woke believing the dream. It was about Shiri Bibas, the mother of Ariel (4 years old) and Kfir (14 months old). In the dream, Israeli soldiers are operating deep in Gaza. They find her and bring her to safety. She tells them the Ariel and Kfir were murdered. She's alone. In my dream, I am crying and yet relieved...one more hostage brought home.

I woke believing that she was free, understanding that it was probably only a dream. So I went to check and saw there had just been a terror attack on the Maale Adumim road to Jerusalem. Two brothers came from Bethlehem to murder Jews. They followed the traffic close to the checkpoint and then crashed into each other. As cars stopped, they jumped out and began firing.

They were quickly eliminated, the brothers from Bethlehem who came to kill Jews. A third ran off. Eight people were shot. At least one was murdered. A young man in his 20s. A pregnant woman was injured and rushed to the hospital. A whole city terrorized and terrified. Checking where our loved ones are, reassuring friends.

Shmuli was on the road going to work. Where is he? The timing is right. So I call. He answers and my words explode. "Where are you? Are you okay?" Because of the accident, WAZE told him to take the second road. He was stuck in traffic there, not on the road where so far, at least one person was murdered. Safe...Mine are accounted for, but what happened? Was Shiri rescued?

I rushed to my computer and I see in WhatsApp and Facebook messages.

Hey I just saw there was an attack near you. Please let me know you and your family are ok.

Paula, are you all safe?

You all ok?

You ok over there?

Are you ok?

Paula, are you ok? Just please ping back.

Paula?

I answered each. We are fine. I'm fine. Only one son was on the road to Jerusalem at that time, but the other road, thankfully. Still checking the news, I listen and hear of yet another terror attack.

Blood runs on the road I drive almost daily. The pregnant woman is stable, but in critical condition. Five months is too early to deliver, I tell myself, too early. Five were sent to Shaarei Tzedek. More critical were taken to the closest hospital, most likely. They brought grenades to throw but were stopped before they could throw them. 

At least two are in "matzav anush" - terrible words that have no simple translation in English. More than "critical", it means that it would take a miracle for them to survive. And yet, sometimes there are miracles.

The waves of a terror attack include a rush to call your children. To think, when your brain least wants to function. Where are my babies? Where are the babies of my babies? Where are my friends? Who, oh God, who was hurt?

The traffic is always terrible leaving Maale Adumim at that hour. In some ways, this was such an obvious target. Hundreds of people, no where to run. The road is cut deep into the mountain walls, hugging the road closely. No where to run. The terrorists knew their target well. 

Perhaps the one thing they didn't consider is how many people in Maale Adumim carry weapons and don't run from an attack. The man who neutralized at least one of the terrorists was shot in the stomach and leg and still he managed to fire back. 

Shmuli was on the road going to work. Where is he? The timing is right. So I call. He answers and my words explode. "Where are you? Are you okay?" Because of the accident, WAZE told him to take the second road. He was stuck in traffic there, not on the road where so far, at least one person was murdered. Safe...Mine are accounted for, but what happened? 

And then I remember my dream. Was Shiri rescued?

I check the news. Nothing. It must have been a dream. Or a nightmare. Where is Shiri? Where is Ariel? 

Where is little Kfir, who rests in my thoughts always.

Early this morning, a rocket was fired towards Eilat - probably by the Houthi terrorists in Yemen. 

And this news bounces back and forth. Terror attack in Maale Adumim. And this morning from southern Lebanon, Hezbollah fired at least two anti-tank missiles, no injured, but a house was destroyed.

People in the northern cities are being told to stay indoors and close to safety. Not a good morning in Israel. We are being attacked - north, south and central. This is their plan. This is their hate. 

The news continues. The pregnant woman is stable, her baby safe. Still others are critical. The politicians come to speak. People have been complaining about the traffic for years. And they switch to the more general picture. A country attacked in 3 places before 10:00 in the morning. He speaks of the attack in the north and asks where is this going. Too much to take in, too much to focus on. It's 10:13 in the morning and my brain is done. Too hard to think, too tired to think. 

It seems Shiri was not rescued. We still do not know what has happened to Ariel and Kfir. We're waiting to hear who was killed, who was wounded. A neighbor? A friend? Someone's child. Somewhere, too close to me this time, a mother is crying. A family is discussing when the funeral will be held.

Paula, are you ok?

I wrote to everyone that I was, and now I know that isn't true. I'm not okay. How can I be? I live in a city in tears. A country in agony. A world filled with hate.