Paula R. Stern – My Israel Today & Home Away Home Away
My Israel Today
My Israel today is breaking through the tears as the sun breaks through the clouds. We are listening to orphans speak of their father, known to many but most of all to his children. We are being told to be strong, that we will continue to live and build in this land, and we will.
My Israel today is a land of deep anger – anger at those who continue to make excuses for that which is beyond reason, beyond human.
My Israel today is a land of comfort – we will embrace the orphans and help them; we will shower them with love and help them, and ourselves, conquer this horrible moment.
My Israel today is a land of sorrow, of hearts broken, of lakes of tears shed.
My Israel today is a land of rage that once again terrorists have fired rockets our cities – this time hitting a kindergarten and damaging it badly – thankfully at night, when no children were there.
My Israel today is a land of sunshine and though the bright light seems wrong on a day where darkness seems to prevail, it is a reminder, that tomorrow we will find our balance.
My Israel today is a land where thousands of people have changed their weekly schedule so that they can pay honor to a man who was dedicated to his family, to his community and to his students.
My Israel today is a land where there still remains those who have no understanding, or worse, accept and proliferate the blindness they want to believe.
My Israel today is a land where the leaders of our enemies are silent and in their silence, they speak volumes.
And my Israel today is a land where our soldiers are hard at work. They will find those who murdered a father of ten and with God’s mercy, they will kill them in the battle that will ensue. Sure, they may catch them, cowards that they are, because they may have the guts to kill but not to die but hopefully, they will resist. Hopefully they are so brainwashed they really believe their allah is waiting on the other side with 72 virgins.
It would be funny, if it were not so tragic. But for now, it is the job of our sons to help facilitate that meeting – between the God of Israel and the murderers of a tzaddik, a righteous man.
And my Israel today is a place where we know that despite the pain, we belong here above all other places. This is our land. This is our home. We have no other.
Home Away Home Away Home Away
One of the hardest things you have to adjust to as a parent in the army, is that moment when on a whim, the army changes your life. It was all set. David would be home last Shabbat and this coming Shabbat.
And then, it was changed to not this Shabbat and not next Shabbat, but instead two days in the middle of the week. It was about finding the good in that. He usually comes home on Friday, exhausted and needing to rest. Laundry, sleep, Shabbat, packing, and back to the army. If he is lucky, he goes out Saturday night to see some friends or meets others in the neighborhood. Often, not even that.
Reconciled to him having more time to do things and go places, I accepted that I would find a way to be home a bit during those two days; maybe we’d all go out to dinner at least or try to organize a family dinner…
And then it changed again, he won’t be coming home today or tomorrow. Now, he will come home Thursday and be home for the Shabbat he wasn’t supposed to be here.
It shows, in a way, the growth that I have achieved as a soldier’s mother. The first time Elie called and said he wouldn’t be coming home after all, I was very upset. Almost enough to call some non-existent officer in the army, whose telephone and name I didn’t know, and demand they send my baby home.
Now, I accept it so much more easily; feel so much less devastated. He’ll be home when he can; perhaps if I am lucky and blessed and it is quiet this summer, maybe he’ll be able to join us on a family vacation near the end of the summer. For now, I tell myself not even to hope.
He’ll be home this weekend. I’ll hold on to that and hope it’s true. I’ll accept that really nothing matters beyond him being safe.
For now, he has been given a job that he finds somewhat boring and yet, it is actually a measure of their trust in him, a recognition that he can handle this added responsibility. So, he isn’t outside there at the checkpoint right now but rather inside an air-conditioned place, at least for now. I can’t really complain, though he will a bit.
It has always been, from the very first, a lesson in learning to take each day as it comes. For perhaps one of the first times, after more than eight years of this, I guess it is finally sinking in. The disappointments aren’t so deep; the excitement banked until he actually walks through the door.
Day by day. It is the only way, when you are a soldier’s mother (or father, or wife, or sister, or brother).
