Welcome Home

Like most Israeli citizens my family and I learned that Gilad would be released from captivity about one week ago. We believed yet didn’t believe because so much can happen in the course of one week; so much can change. Over the last few days it appeared that Gilad’s release might be delayed for one reason or another ranging from demands by hamas for even more prisoners to be released to demands by families of victims of terror to stop altogether the release of so many murderers.

I am angry that Israel had to go this route to obtain Gilad’s release. There were, perhaps, mistakes made early on in this saga and I hope our leaders have learned from those mistakes so that next time, and let’s pray that there is no next time, the price for freedom won’t be so high.

I am angry that we as a nation, as a people, as a country have to suffer like this. I am saddened for the families whose loved ones were killed or maimed as a result of terror and whose wounds are now ripped open again, raw and painful, for them to endure. I am angry at the world leaders and various human rights organizations for failing Gilad, for not demanding clearly enough or raise their voices loudly enough, or intervene boldly enough for his release. I am angry at our government for giving in to hamas and terrorism, but maybe there was no choice. Maybe there are other plans. I don’t know, but what should be done? Gilad is alive, it was time to bring him home.

So, we sat glued to the television and watched the coverage of his release. When I saw Gilad emerge from darkness to light, I cried. It was shocking. I cried tears of pain and anguish for him, for what he has endured. Tears shed for his loss of youth, his lost innocence. He is so frail. I cried tears of joy for his family, especially his mother. I cried the tears only a mother sheds. I myself wanted to embrace his frail, gaunt, pale, almost limp and lifeless looking body to hug him, hold him and welcome him home from his journey of misery.

I’ve ended many of my blog entries with prayers for Gilad’s safe and speedy return home, back to the loving arms of his mother. I’ve left an empty seat at my Pesach seder table to remember Gilad still in captivity.  So with a very heavy heart and a nod to all the families who have suffered so much and endured so much pain, yet despite their pain have gone on valiantly to live their lives; to all of us, the mothers of Israeli soldiers who will continue to worry for the safety and well-being of our young men and women, I can say finally, finally, welcome home, Gilad. ‘Ve shavu banim ligvulam.’ We’ve returned our son to his land. May you have an easy reentry to life and I wish for you happiness, health and peace always.

We are one nation. We value even one life.

Sweetness Personified

Pure bliss.

These two words are all that are needed to describe the feeling of becoming a grandparent. Pure bliss. I didn’t think I would feel this way, but as I stare at the beautiful face of my sleeping, new grandson, I feel total joy, pure delight.

Wow! I am a grandmother!! Many of you have welcomed me in to what you call, ‘the greatest club in the world.’ It is rather remarkable, quite amazing, in fact, to be a member of this club. But wasn’t I just adjusting to motherhood? Wasn’t it just yesterday when I celebrated becoming a parent and then celebrated that wonder, again and then again? Wait a minute: Wasn’t I just a kid myself? Where does the time go?

I love being a parent. I’ve loved watching my children grow, learn, play and become the wonderful human beings each one is today. I cherish the time I have with each one. I’ve worked hard at parenting and I know my job isn’t complete: it never will be. As one sage person advised me not so long ago, our job as parents is never complete since our children will always need us in some capacity or another. But as I look back on those busy, hectic, important parenting years, I can honestly say I am ready for grand parenthood, ready for the simple pleasures of spending time with Daniel, playing with him, singing to him, spoiling him, sharing ice cream cones and watching his smiley, giggly face as it melts all over him. I look forward to sharing with him stories that only a grandmother can tell. I am quite certain I will love being a grandparent. I already do. I love when Daniel sleeps on my shoulder, when he smiles and laughs with me, and I love the way he babbles when I change his diaper.

When Daniel was just one month old, the precious baby slept on my shoulder and in my arms for four hours! We dozed together while his mommy napped on the couch alongside us. There’s no comparable feeling to that of holding a sleeping baby on your shoulder. It is quite simply, heavenly.

Sleeping on Savta. Heavenly baby!!

Daniel is now four months old and I am back visiting with him and his mommy and daddy. He gets cuter and sweeter by the day and he brings out the very best in me. He smiles, I smile. He laughs, I laugh. We play together, we take walks together and I love his reaction when a breeze gently caresses his beautiful soft sweet face. He giggles, looks around, perhaps thinking ‘who is that tickling me?’ and smiles. And when he sleeps, I could stare at him for hours. He has this enchanting, captivating quality about him. He is angelic. This child brings complete and utter joy into my life. Being a grandmother is a reminder of everything that is good in this world.

As parents, we nurture our children’s’ every need. We provide for them physically, emotionally, financially. We nurture their dreams, encourage their ambitions, guiding and disciplining them along their paths of live. As a grandparent, I know I must relinquish those roles and dutifully, faithfully, allow my daughter and son-in-law to provide for Daniel. It’s tough, but I suppose I will reap the benefits. I can spoil Daniel with boundless love, endless hugs and butterfly kisses. And I have every intention of doing so!!

Daniel IS Sweetness Personified.

Mr. Sweetness

Soldier Boy, Round Two

I sent my boy off to the army today, again. It doesn’t get any easier second time around. One would think it would, but it doesn’t. I’ve been here before, exactly one year ago, at the central conscription center in Tel Hoshomer, dropping my older son off for his 16 month-long army service. It was hard then, despite knowing that he was not in a ‘kravi’ or combat unit, but rather in a support unit of ‘tovalah’, transport, supply and delivery. He learned to drive military vehicles and is now licensed to drive any type of car and most trucks here. His responsibilities included travelling all over Israel to bring food and military supplies to bases from north to south, east to west.

While he enjoyed driving, enjoyed the freedom on the road, the scenery and the vital role he played in the military, his heart was elsewhere. He yearned to serve in a combat unit and did whatever it took to achieve that goal. He raised his profile in November, went back to yeshiva for four months, and today, a day after Purim, we relived this scene all over again.

I sent my son off to the army today, again. But this time, to a combat unit, to tanks. He went with a smile on his face and determination in his heart. His principles and values are firm and his eyes wide open for the challenges that lay ahead. He did have some anxiety and a little uneasiness about starting anew, though. He is proud, Yechezkel, and determined to be the best soldier he can be, to bring honor to his country while defending her. And that is his goal: To defend and support the land of Israel.

I sent my son off to the army today, this time to a base in southern Israel, near Eilat. I kissed him and hugged him, shed some tears, and told him repeatedly how much I love him and how proud of him I am. I was hesitant to let him out of my embrace, reminiscent of the day of his bris, when I was reluctant then to relinquish him from my arms to the hands of the Mohel. It is so hard letting go.

I sent my boy off to the army today, again, to learn, to grow, to develop the necessary skills he will need to perform his job well. I know he will be a proud strong, confident soldier. This is a worrisome time again for us here yet it doesn’t help to worry. What good will it do? I pray that when he completes his now extended service, on July 19th, 2012, he will return once again to the waiting embrace of his mother, safe and sound, he a better human being for it, I relieved, and we, as a country, a better people, a safer nation, because of his and all the other chayalim and chayalot who dedicate and sacrifice for us.

I sent my boy off to the army today, again. As Yogi Berra once said, “it’s deja vu all over again.”

My Shaky Foundation

I recently returned home from a quick eight day trip back to the States, my first time back since we moved here. I first flew to Florida to celebrate with my mom for her birthday, and then to New York, to celebrate and visit with my daughter. It was a wonderful, fun, hectic and exciting trip and it was great to be back if even for a short while.

It was strange though. When I landed in Atlanta en route to Florida, I wandered through the airport feeling like a stranger. I felt a little uncomfortable. Where is the Hebrew on all the signs? I went to Starbucks to order a coffee and had to think twice before placing my order in Hebrew lest the sales girl give me a bewildered look in response.  I ordered my coffee in English of course and drank it while awaiting my connecting flight to West Palm Beach. I’ve grown accustomed to Israeli coffee somewhat, but it was good to once again have a cup of real, (though quite strong) American coffee. My connecting flight was uneventful and upon landing I was greeted by my mom and David with long wonderful embraces. The weekend and ensuing few days were wonderful, relaxing and celebratory. I then flew to New York and oh my, was it cold. I am just not used to that kind of cold weather anymore. Brrrrrrrr. But, I was greeted with the most heartwarming embrace and smile a mother could ask for. Michal and I had a wonderful few days together made up of shopping, cooking, eating, talking and laughing. It was great.

Then it was time to leave and as strange as it felt first arriving back in America, it felt equally strange leaving. I guess one acclimates to one’s familiar surroundings fairly easily. It was slightly strange arriving back in Israel, though it did feel good to be back.

The past week we were all busy with work and school and life resumed fairly uneventfully. We had a houseful of terrific company for Shabbat, a group of guys and an Israeli couple for dinner Friday night. Our house was filled with good food, great conversation, song and laughter. Shabbat concluded and we all resumed our weekly routines, the boys returning to yeshiva, I to work, and everyone else to typical Saturday night routines. But that all changed soon enough.

I have a fairly firm set of beliefs and convictions by which I lead my life and teach my children to live theirs. I have a firm belief in God and religion and the overall goodness of mankind. I believe in kindness and decency and love. I believe in family. I believe in commitment to hard work that was taught to me by my parents. I believe in individuality, in the freedom to design our own path. I believe in distinguishing right from wrong, even if the line between those is ill defined. I believe in respecting others’ beliefs and convictions. I believe in my country, my homeland, so much so that I picked up left everything and everyone familiar, and moved here to the relative unknown to start over and fulfill a lifelong dream. I believe in the pursuit of happiness and in the right for all of us to live happy and productive and fulfilling lives. I believe in good food, fine wine, and chocolate!! And, I believe we are all entitled to live our lives according to our own set of beliefs and principles. These are the core that make up the foundation of my life.

I do not believe that any person, group, religion has the right to take any of that away. And, I used to not believe in vengeance. I am not sure about that one anymore.

My foundation was shaken on Saturday night past upon hearing of the horror that was perpetrated on Friday night. The events of the last few days have left me at a loss. I am angry. I really am. Quite angry.  I don’t know at whom, or at what, but I am angry. Mad. The earthquake in Japan and subsequent tsunami are terrible natural disasters and the pictures and news coming from Japan are abysmal. The loss of life and the devastation, the missing people, the nuclear scare, all are just awful. But the news from Israel Saturday night of the sheer beastliness of an attack on a family as they slept is incomprehensible to me. It is beyond incomprehensible. It is unfathomable but at the same time, very real, too real. It has left me aching and I had no connection to the family other than sharing the belief that Israel is our home and it is our inalienable right and duty to settle here.  How barbaric are these subhuman creatures that they can invade a home and rob three children of their parents and three other siblings forever? How cruel are these supposedly Arab ‘human beings’ being taught to be? Is there a test they must pass for each level of cruelty and indecency? Is this their education? Is this what is being taught in their schools?

All of Israel has been shaken by this tragedy. All of its people, right and left politically and religiously, for the most part, are sickened by the events of this weekend. Twenty thousand plus people from across the country, including my son and many others from Ma’ale Adumim packed Har Hamenuchot, the cemetery where the family was being laid to rest, for the funeral on Sunday to say farewell, to offer comfort to the grieving family, to hear eulogies from rabbinic leaders, political leaders and family members. I imagine the throngs of people craved words of comfort and consolation. Rabbi Lau lamented how the cycle of violence continues, despite our sovereign state, despite our army. He told twelve year old Tamar that she is now the little mother of the family to her two younger siblings. No, she is not. She is a 12 year old child, now an orphan. Blame was cast of course on the palestinian authority for inciting violence against Jews. But international media outlets are also laying blame on ‘the settlers’, as if living in a ‘settlement’ dehumanizes them and thereby nearly legitimizing the act of terror. And it was a TERROR ATTACK that night carried out by TERRORISTS, not militants or extremists but terrorists.  Rabbi Metzger told the gathering that in response to this tragedy, Israel must build. Build more homes, neighborhoods, communities. Defense Minister Ehud Barak said this attack is a reminder of the price we must pay in the struggle for sovereignty. And on and on.

But I must object. We already ARE a sovereign nation. We achieved sovereignty and fought valiantly in 1948 for sovereignty. We don’t fight for that anymore. Now we fight for survival, for our very existence, because those around us simply don’t want us to exist. Prime Minister Netanyahu said to the family while paying a shiva call that “they murder and we build”. My question and I am not alone, is this: Why is he only now talking about building the land? We only have a right to build if we sacrifice? This is an unbalanced equation. Murder plus sacrifice does NOT equal the right to build! Murder is reprehensible, evil, ugly, immoral. Building our land of Israel is beautiful, right, praiseworthy and moral. A shiva home, especially one so filled with such horrible sadness, is not the forum for a political agenda. Agree or disagree on settlement expansion, but don’t espouse or draw comparisons between a civilized nation and barbaric acts. A shiva home should not be a forum for politicization of ideas or events. Sweet, once innocent, now forever traumatized 12 year old Tamar called Netanyahu out on this one. She shouted and cried “if you do something will America do something to you”?

My feelings echoe those of Udi Fogel’s brother when he said that “all the symbols about settlement, the land of Israel and the people of Israel are attempts to forget the simple fact that is riddled with pain: you are dead and no symbol will bring you back. More than anything this funeral must be a private event.” He said to his brother that “you are not a national symbol or national event. Your life was a purpose …and it can’t be allowed for your terrible death to turn your life into some sort of tool, no matter for whom. You are my brother and you will stay my brother”.

So why do I feel my foundation shaking? Because I am angry. Because the world has yet to recognize with whom we are dealing. Because a family, another one is shattered. We’ve suffered, we’ve been through this before, and as history has shown us, we’ll be there again. This event has shocked the whole country and I believe, all decent people. I don’t know that I will remain as naive as I once was, or that I will believe in the overall goodness of mankind anymore. I just don’t know. We as a nation will heal. We will go on. We go from tragedy and sadness to joy and happiness in almost a heartbeat. I did that the other night when I attended a friend’s daughter’s wedding (a former West Hempsteader). We cried at the ceremony when the Rabbi recalled the events of two days earlier because the bride and groom were so upset about it. We danced and sang at the happiness of a new union of a great couple. It was cathartic for me. I really needed to reconnect with friends from past and present and to feel joy.

This is what we do. We go on living. We survive.

Friends (Not the TV show)

Friends. According to the Oxford Dictionary Online, a friend is “a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations.” “Somebody emotionally close: Somebody who trusts and is fond of another,” is the definition given by Encarta dictionary. And in Hebrew, a friend is a ‘chaver’ or ‘yedid.’ In my lexicon, a friend is all of these and more.

I’ve often expressed how I sometimes really miss the friends I’ve made over the course of many years and of the difficulties I occasionally encounter in adjusting to life here and making friends here. I’ve experienced many special moments in my life when my friends were truly there for me and no time was this more evident than when I fell ill eight years ago. During the course of those days, weeks and months following surgery, you, my friends did what friends do, quietly, genuinely and lovingly, providing care and love to me, Meyer and the kids making sure no stone went unturned to ensure that life continued so that I could focus on me and my recovery. Those were days when, I believe, my friends transcended the not so simple “bond of mutual affection” or emotional closeness, and became so much more. You became a part of my family and you hold a truly special place in my heart.

Recently, a week or so after Sukkot, one of you did it again. You transcended what I knew to be friendship and took our friendship to a whole other level. Shelley lovingly and creatively compiled my blog into a book, a hard cover book, with anecdotes, pictures and quotes and, amazingly, she had the book published. She presented this book to me on a Friday morning when she and her family came to visit us for a nice breakfast with friends who haven’t seen each other in a year. This book was a precious gift which I treasure. I treasure the thought and time that went into it. It has taken me this long to write about it because I’ve been in absolute shock over it. It was planned perfectly…my shock was genuine, my disbelief real. I will remember that Friday morning for a long time to come.

I'm in shock!

I guess my goal in writing this is to thank Shelley and to thank, really thank, all of you, my dear friends, for being there for me and for being the caring, fun, wonderful people you are. We may not always speak with one another, we may not see each other often, but you are held in high regard. I treasure my friendships and I hope I’ve been a good friend to all of you.

Like the lyrics from the theme song of ‘Friends‘, the TV show, (one of my favorites by the way) say, “I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.  I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before. I’ll be there for you, cause you’re there for me too.”

I’ve Arrived

I’ve reached a new milestone.  I’ve arrived.  It is customary, respectful, and considered well-mannered here in Israel for one to relinquish one’s seat on the bus for an elderly man or woman, a pregnant woman or a woman travelling with a small child. I’ve often given up my seat for someone fitting any of those descriptions and our children do the same.

So, we were riding an extremely crowded, standing room only bus last night going to a bar mitzvah in Jerusalem. By standing room only I mean up close and personal with, well, the bus driver and with all the other squashed passengers standing on that bus. That poor bus driver. I mean, can you imagine driving a bus with college students half of whom were talking on their cell phones, standing practically in your face? I think the driver was sorry he didn’t call in sick that day! But I digress. Anyway, I was standing holding on for dear life and praying that I would arrive at my destination in one piece. A stop or two after I boarded the bus, some passengers got off so I was able to make my way to the middle of the bus to ‘relative’ safety. Suddenly I hear a young woman say:  ’G'veret, shvi’. (‘Ma’am, please sit). Was she addressing me? She couldn’t have been. I was fine. I often stand on buses. I turned to see a young college student, one of a group of friends stand to give me her seat.  So she Was speaking to me! Her friends were also ready to relinquish their seats. I thanked her but said no, it was fine; I was getting off in two more stops. She didn’t hear me, I guess, because she remained standing, looking at me. I thanked her again and politely declined the offer.

Now the strange thing about this is that a similar thing happened to me the day before. And that’s not all. On the way home from the bar mitzvah, two guys, after seeing me, got up and gave us their seats. I was not traveling alone with a young child, and while I regrettably have gained some weight back, I don’t really think I look pregnant, and I don’t think (or at least didn’t until now) that I look old enough to be offered a seat in this tradition. But, much like beauty, I guess age is also in the eye of the beholder and to those youthful eyes on the bus, I must have appeared quite aged.

I’ve arrived. AARP anyone?

The Journey Continues

Life goes on and our journey continues. Our one year anniversary of aliyah came and went not uneventfully. Week fifty-two lead into week fifty-three which lead into week fifty-four, this week.  It’s been a busy and hectic time for us. I’ve largely recovered from surgery. I’m still tired and slightly sore, but I’m doing well overall. Eitan returned from New York (yea!!) last Sunday and he looks great. We really missed him but he had an ‘awesome’ time seeing everyone, working, relaxing and having fun. I returned to work this week and Eitan to school. We moved to our new temporary apartment near where we are building our home. It’s good to be back here, in Mitzpeh Nevo, but it is so crowded now in this apartment that I’ve come to the conclusion that less really is more. We have way too much stuff. This is a furnished apartment and we moved all of our own furnishings, clothes, books, and life belongings here. Meyer packed everything and somehow we managed to survive the move. This is the way we will live until Pesach (hopefully) when  once again, we’ll hire movers to move up the street to settle finally in our own brand new apartment (cottage). We will then have one music filled, fantastically fun chanukat habayit (house-warming) party. I believe we’ve earned it. I think then I will truly feel at home. For now, we are Ma’ale Adumim’s wandering Jews.

Peace efforts are underway again between Netanyahu, Abbas, and Clinton/Obama in Washington and as in the past, terrorism has struck Israelis again. You all know the story. The usual players, Palestinian terrorists (Hamas terrorists….what really is the difference) attack a family driving in a car murdering a mother and father of six beautiful children rendering them orphans, and murdering the two passengers travelling with them, all while Netanyahu was en route to Washington. And the next day another attack followed but fortunately no one was killed in that attack. And today, Saturday, rockets were fired from Gaza and landed in Israel luckily without causing injury or damage. This time. Yesterday, a girl was injured by a rock thrown at the car she was travelling in. She was taken to the hospital and listed in moderate condition. Moderate condition is the term given to victims of terror here when doctors don’t fear for the patient’s life, but cannot rule out the possibility of permanent damage. So what can we make of all of this? In my opinion, Netanyahu should have turned his plane around and returned to Israel to put forward a response. Nary a response was heard. It is time to stop richly rewarding palestinians for their acts of terrorism. Instead of standing down to advance talks, why not stand strong and affirm that Israel is a sovereign legitimate nation and that it will not tolerate anymore acts of terrorism. It is time for Israel’s leaders to stand up for and protect its citizens unwaveringly and to unequivocally state to the world in clear loud and unambiguous language that we will not tolerate violence and terror of any kind at any time and we will aggressively respond to any such terror. Palestinians do not want peace if they terrorize innocent people. If there is no response, it is as if they have been given free rein to terrorize with impunity. Israeli’s need a genuine secure peace, not one based on appeasement of murderers to satisfy the biased narrow vision of world leaders.

Tennis is back in the form of the US Open and I love watching it. I watch at every opportunity, at times alone and at times with Eitan and Yechezkel, who enjoy it as much as I. But they hold the advantage over me in that they can both play the game fairly well, having been taught by their Grandma!! Just like baseball fans or football fans in the states cheer for their teams when they watch them play, we cheer our tennis players.  I’ve watched Sharapova, Federer, Andy Murray, Fish, Woznicki. I cheer loudest for Shachar Peer, who reached the fourth round where she is scheduled to play Venus Williams. She’s never triumphed against Venus and I doubt she will now. But wouldn’t it be sweet victory if she did?

The chagim are upon us again and as we approach this time of year we look forward to Michal and Chezky visiting with us for Sukkot and my mom coming for part of Sukkot and staying an additional week.  As we approach our second Rosh Hashanah here, (which by the way encompasses a three-day yom tov for us as well, oy) I wish you all a year of joy, happiness, health and success (and fun). I hope and pray, really pray, for Israel’s leaders to exhibit  the strength and courage necessary to stand up and stand strong in defense and protection of their country’s citizens and to withstand undue and unfair pressure. I pray and ask you to pray for no more war though it may seem inevitable, and to pray for the safety of our chayalim (soldiers). I pray for the children and families of the recent terror attacks to somehow find the courage to live life with joy and honor to preserve the memories of their loved ones. I pray for Gilaad Schalit’s return to Israel, and by the way, the other Israeli captives as well, and I really pray for simplicity, for the simple joyous things in life. For the fun.

Shana Tovah to all and a sweet and happy New Year.

Lisa