Every Day and Its Challenges...

Ki Yachol Nuchal!: Warning: crawly and slimy things alert

2011-04-04T14:10:00.000+03:00

I ALSO love lizards and creepy crawlies. Except spiders. I feel about spiders the way Indian Jones feels about snakes. Chameleons are a particular favorite with me. I played the video for my office mate, who asked, "Could we see that again?" Amazing.

Challenge of Body Image

2010-01-20T11:04:00.002+02:00

There's an email going around that I've gotten a few times:

Recently, in a large city in Australia, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said, "This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?"
A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.
To Whom It May Concern,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.) They have an active sex life, get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia.
Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs.
They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans.
They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.
Mermaids don't exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them, not to mention how could they have sex? Just look at them ... where is IT? Therefore, they don't have kids either.
Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?
The choice is perfectly clear to me: I want to be a whale.
P.S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver, and a piece of chocolate with my friends. With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room, it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren't heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated and happy.
Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, ¨Good grief, look how smart I am!¨

It's cute, right? But the message bothered me and today I finally figured out why.
I have decided that I don’t like either message. The message has to be HEALTH, not appearance and not immediate gratification. It’s not healthy for a human being to be a whale. The first time I saw this, it validated my decision to eat what I liked, when I liked, and who cares if I had to wear tents instead of clothes. But I was close to becoming seriously ill, with issues that would have become permanent.

I’ve decided that the message I’d like my kids to learn is that G-d gave us our bodies. Our bodies are loans. They are not ours to use or abuse as we like. Just as we have to take good care of an object we borrow, so, too, our bodies. We don’t try to be healthy because that will extend our life. Only Hashem decides when and where our life ends, no matter how much damage or care we put in. We try to be healthy because Hashem gave us a commandment to 'guard our souls' which is understood by many to mean that one should not endanger oneself.

What do people think?

Challenge of Many Deserving Friends

2009-08-31T13:20:00.001+03:00

Did I say that the choices are difficult? I have another Israel-minded friend, another yearner. I'll stick with her blogger name: Lady Light. Her blog is Tikkun Olam.

Somehow, back in the mists of time, we became friends. At the first annual Jewish blogger convention I was really excited to say "hi" to her on the live feed, even though we've never met face-to-face.

Lady Light is another one of those committed, idealistic, determined people whose heart lives in Israel, if not her physical body. In fact, she has FOUR children who live here, including a daughter in the army. She has a grandchild here and another on the way. While two of her sons were in the IDF she was unable to attend a single ceremony they had - their teksei kumta (completing training and getting their brigade berets) or any other completion or award ceremony. Her sons and now her daughter were and are "chayalim bodedim". These are the amazing young men and women who come to Israel to serve in the army, to dedicate their lives to their land and people, without their families and all the support that implies. If you have ever read A Soldier's Mother you can begin to understand what Lady Light's kids don't get. Just think about Eli without his mom's care packages!

And Lady Light's blog, well, it's got a good readership and it's amazingly pro-Israel. LL finds the best stuff out there and brings it to our attention. She keeps us thinking. She keeps us striving to do better. If she isn't (back) in Israel, yet, she wants to make darned sure that everyone else is at least thinking seriously about the importance of Israel in our lives.

Lady Light loves her children, loves her People, loves the Hebrew language and shares it all with us. I think that she'd do an amazing job at presenting the Aliyah experience of another family and I'd love to give her the opportunity.

C'mon NBN. You can't go wrong! I know. Take BOTH of them - Bat Aliyah AND Lady Light!

Challenge of Hard Choices

2009-08-27T15:38:00.004+03:00

My dear friend Rivkah of the Bat Aliyah blog, we think alike. It's nice to have a friend who is so much on the same wavelength on so many issues. However my beloved friend has a problem. She firmly knows, in her mind and in her heart, that her place is in Israel. So I really ache for her because she is making the hard choice that I was never faced with. She isn't living in Israel. Yet.

But that's not exactly accurate because a few weeks a year she IS home. The rest of the year she's ... travelling. Yeah. That's it. Travelling.

Just because her travels involve a home in Baltimore, family, friends, community, livelihood and all that goes with being 'settled' does not make her any less a traveller. Rivkah's roots are here, in Israel, and that's where her energy comes from.

But where does her energy go? That's easy! Rivkah uses her tremendous energy, brain and heart to share her passion for Israel and to help others become just as passionate until they can't take it any more. Then they make aliyah! Rivkah is the driving force behind the Baltimore Chug Aliyah and she has the tremendous merit to be the one who pushed many, many families and individuals to take that step and to commit to the land of Israel with everything they have.

So Rivkah is travelling on a spiritual journey. She's taking the long way home. I want to help her.

Rivkah's daughter is coming on the next Nefesh b'Nefesh flight. Even though Rivkah herself has just wound up a visit home, she'll be back to greet her daughter when she arrives at Ben Gurion airport as a New Immigrant. (Rivkah and hundreds of others, including senior government officials, who want to personally welcome those wonderful people filling that charter flight.) But we can do better than that!

Rivkah's turn to arrive as a New Immigrant may not have come, but she can get a seat on that flight to arrive WITH her daughter. She just has to be chosen as THE blogger to blog that flight and the subsequent initial days afterwards. I think Rivkah is the one to do it. Her blog, her whole passion, her life's purpose is Aliyah to Israel. How can she NOT be the one Nefesh b'Nefesh chooses to represent the Jewish Blogosphere on the flight?

So NBN, make the hard choice (and I'm sure it's hard. There are so MANY excellent and worthy bloggers out there). Choose Bat Aliyah, Rivkah Lambert Adler, to blog this flight!

Challenge of Blogging Revisited

2009-08-27T15:04:00.002+03:00

OK, so. I've signed up for the 2nd annual Jewish Bloggers Convention, so I guess I'd better blog. And I will, G-d willing. I have a topic I'm stewing over. In the meantime, I have to write another post to nominate a friend to get to come to the convention on the next Nefesh b'Nefesh flight. So faithful followers (all four of you) fear not! Blog posts coming up!

Challenge for my Readers

2009-02-12T09:08:00.003+02:00

Shmuel Greenbaum is a person who amazes. He lost his wife in the Sbarro Pizza bombing. She was one of over 100 victims that were killed or injured at 2:00 P.M. on August 9, 2001 at the Sbarro restaurant in Jerusalem. Out of that tragedy, he founded a whole organization devoted to teaching people to be kind, and spreading the concept of kindness. Called Partners in Kindness, he sends out daily and weekly emails of stories of kindness others have done. It's quite amazing.

Now Shmuel is publishing a book of these stories and he needs your help. In his words:

---------------------------------------------------------
Great News!
Get A Free Copy of our BookWith a Tax-Deductible Dedicationstarting at only $50
Please help us!
We need to raise $15,000
for production costs.
Book Dedications:
Kindly respond by Tuesday, February 17, 2009 Dedications can be purchased as follows:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
$5,000 Full Page $500 Twelfth Page
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
$2,500 Half Page $250 Twentieth Page
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
$1,800 Quarter Page $180 Thirtieth Page
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
$1,000 Sixth Page $100 Fiftieth Page
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
$50 Hundredth Page
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sponsors donating $100 or more will receive
· Acknowledgement on Partners In Kindness website for one year
· Autographed copy of the book

Sponsors donating $50 will receive
· Acknowledgement on Partners In Kindness website for one year
· Non-autographed copy of the book
Sponsorships are tax-deductible in the United States.
For further information visit:
http://www.partnersinkindness.com/donations.php
---------------------------------------------------------

Challenge of Elections

2009-02-10T20:53:00.003+02:00

I've already voted, so in a way this post is unnecessary.

It's difficult to vote, and harder not to. I believe, on the one hand, that Hashem (G-d) is the one who runs everything. On the other hand, I believe we MUST make our own efforts and thereby show Hashem that we are doing our best to live His will.

In previous elections I've voted ideologically. You feel good when you walk out of the voting booth, but down the road when the party you vote for is too small to really make a difference (if it gets in at all) you have to wonder - did I do the right thing?

In this election, I chose to let practicality support my ideology. I believe that to merit this land, we have to do G-d's will and our leaders have to be G-d fearing. But given leaders who are NOT G-d-fearing, what's an ideolog to do? In this case, I chose to support the Likud. Please understand me, I do not support Binyamin Netanyahu as Prime Minister. Finance Minister? Ideal. Foreign minister? Just fine. I am not easy with having this man holding the reins. But I am horrified at the idea of Livni, Barak, or G-d-forbid Leiberman running the country.

The Likud is not just Netanyahu. It is Gilad Erdan, Gidon Saar, Benny Begin and a host of others whom I believe truly care about this nation and its people, and are at least warm to the idea of G-d running things. Sharansky supports the Likud, and that means something to me (though Sharansky and I disagree on a number of issues as well).

So I voted Likud, but I have a sick feeling that I'm going to regret it. I voted Likud, but I'm worried that not enough people like me DID vote Likud. I'm afraid that Livni is going to make the next government. Livni, who is anti-women (look at her voting record on women's issues), who is indecisive and shallow. Where will she lead us? To more war, undoubtedly. We know what happens when we give up strategic territory.

I feel like no matter who wins, Am Yisrael is going to lose.

I voted Likud, and I convinced others to vote Likud. G-d help us.

Challenge of... War, I Guess

2009-01-01T17:53:00.006+02:00

So, I'm sure you've heard. We're at war. What's that MEAN?

To people in the south, and now people in the center (as we prepare for the longer-range missiles Hamas seems to have), it means something very different than it does to us in the "safe" zone. I'm trying to figure out what it means to us.

Rabbi Brody says that this is a war of Emuna. He says that if we work on our Emuna and come close to Hashem, we will triumph, and that's the ONLY way. One point he made, that I really liked, was this: Hamas does not discriminate between Jews. We are all targets, if we are religious or not, sefaradi, ashkenazi, hassidic, litvishe or athiest. If we would be united, Hamas would not be able to hurt us.

People in Sederot are in a strange position. Life for them has not changed. It's the same now as it was before Chanukah. In fact, maybe there are fewer missiles falling. It's business as usual for them too.

My friend Jameel told me (and I hope it's OK that I'm writing this without his permission) that on the one hand he feels he is needed but on the other hand he'd have to use vacation time from his job. He simply does not have enough vacation time and also he might get called up. If he's called up, he'll also miss work. Not a good thing in this economic climate. So while it's not exactly business as usual for Jameel and his team at the Muqata, it has a business as usual feel to it.

My gut tells me to go with Rabbi Brody. He's sitting in Ashdod, learning and teaching Torah, and he's not afraid. His emuna is strong. Hashem will triumph in the end no matter what WE do. We have to trust that Hashem has our best interests in "mind" and go with that. Here's what I wrote to my mishmeret shmirat halashon (group of women who dedicate time each day to keeping their speech clean for someone else's merit):

Times are challenging. We might even say that times are tough. Rebbi Nachman tells a parable (which I’ll tell in short). Two people, a Jew and a non-Jew are travelling beggars. It’s seder night, and the Jew suggests to the non-Jew that he pretend to be Jewish to get a meal. He coaches him on Kiddush, hand-washing and other customs, but forgets to tell him about the Maror. After the wine and the matza, when the non-Jew is given the bitter herb, he thinks that’s the whole meal, gets insulted and leaves. Later he meets up with the Jew and tells him how terrible the whole thing was. The Jew tells him, “Stupid! If you had waited a little longer you could have had a fine meal, as I did.”

Rebbe Nachman is telling us, when we try to come closer to Hashem, we often have some bitterness. This is to purify us (improve us - YSRM). Someone might think that bitterness is all there is to serving G-d and run away. But if we would only wait, and let the bitterness purify us, we would feel the joy and delight of coming closer to G-d.

May the bitterness, the challenges we face on a personal and national level, serve to purify us so that we can soon experience and enjoy the full redemption.

This war is bitter, make no mistake. It's a bitter pill to swallow and I'm not even in danger. But we will succeed, G-d willing, not by the might of arms but by the might of our faith.

Challenge of Branding

2008-11-05T17:12:00.002+02:00

As a good follow-up to my previous post, I want to ask my readers to take note of this web site:
http://www.ads4israel.com/

Somehow, this website does NOT bother me the way Isrealli does. The feeling I get from Isrealli is: "Like us! We're just like you!" The feeling I get from this ad web site is: "We are special! We are cool!"

It's all just gut feelings - no science at all.

What do you think about this second site?

Challenge of Relevance: An Official Blog from the State of Israel

2008-10-27T09:14:00.004+02:00

Remember the JBlogger Convention?

One of the speakers at the convention was a representative of Israeli's foreign ministry. She spoke about the "branding" of Israel.

So I wasn't surprised when Google Reader threw out a recommendation to this new blog: http://www.isrealli.org/.

The blog highlights "normal" Israel from a cultural point of view, focusing on events both inside and outside the country.

Whoever is doing it is pretty good. It's easy to read, lots of nice photos, and nothing at all controversial. But who is reading it?

I wonder if this is the Israel that I want people to know and love...

Comments, anyone?

The Challenge of the Aftermath

2008-09-22T15:32:00.002+03:00

When you are in the midst of a non-routine challenge, especially when you are coping well with the challenge, you enter a sort of disconnected state. Things seem to move of their own volition. If you are making good choices, if you are blessed with insight and assistance, obstacles seem to dissolve. Other times, especially if you feel like you are alone and bereft, and have no one to lean on and no faith to support you, it seems like obstacles are placing themselves in your way to make your challenge even more difficult.

Whatever is happening, you are caught up in the rhythm of your challenge. Other things fall by the wayside.

This very effect, a sort of bubble surrounding you, creates yet another challenge when the bubble bursts. You come out of the challenge, whether you met it or not, and suddenly you are "back to normal". What is normal, after all? This very normalcy presents its own challenge. Sometimes it's even harder to be "normal" when you have had the transcendent experience of intimately feeling G-d's presence in your life.

That's what I'm going through now.

We have had many non-routine challenges in the past six months. Since my trip to the US for the unveiling of my mother's gravestone, the various adventures and experiences with Chayim Zvi, up to the loss of my father-in-law last week, I and my family have had many many situations that are not routine. I, certainly, have felt G-d's loving hand holding and protecting and guiding me this whole time. And while I pray that our challenges remain routine from here on out, I am finding it much more difficult to connect to G-d with that kind of intimacy. I'm tired.

Now I have to go back to work, after yet another unexpected absence of days. I have to get the kids out to school. I have to see that there is food and clean laundry. I have to keep up with my responsibilities at the office. And I have to grow and learn and connect with Hashem within that routine. It's hard, perhaps harder than the challenges that took me out of the routine to begin with.

So what's the answer? I believe the answer is prayer. Reading R. Lazer Brody, R. Shalom Arush, R. Pinchas Winston, I believe that whatever you want to call that power in the universe that guides the universe, to connect with that power you have to pray.

Rabbi Winston says that it is human nature to pray under stress. On some level, we all believe that there is some higher power running things. Because I believe that G-d cares about the smallest sparrow no less than the greatest tzaddik (bad translation: saint), I believe that G-d cares about me. So just as a child turns to her parents for love, support and help, so too we have to turn to G-d with our needs, cares and worries.

So I'm praying. I'm not getting to the daily prayer liturgy, though I believe that has an important and vital place. But I'm in constant communication with G-d. The wireless connection that works everywhere, I am in constant conversation with Him. This has tremendous advantages. When I say to G-d, "I can't do this" I remember that if it's happening to me then I must be able to handle it. When I say to G-d, "I don't want this." I remember that if it's happening to me, it must be good for me. When I say to G-d, "I need your help" I begin to feel better, because I understand that I'm not alone. And when I say to G-d, "I accept that I have to work, give me the strength" I feel strengthened.

There is no day without challenges, but I am never, ever alone in them and I can and will meet those challenges because of that.

The Challenge of Being Interviewed

2008-09-14T14:14:00.004+03:00

Dear Readers - if you would like to hear my dulcet tones (LOL), you can hear an interview with my from Israel National News Radio. Yishai and Malka Fleisher interviewed me for their "Miracle Hour" show. I spoke about Chayim Zvi and the some of the challenges we faced over the summer. Hear it here.

Viral Challenge (Challenge Wordle)

2008-09-11T10:54:00.003+03:00

OK, so two of my blogging friends made "wordles". So I HAD to try it. The idea is, you present it with a pile of text (either you enter it or you point it at a URL or something) and it makes a picture like the one below.

I pointed it at both of my blogs but didn't like the result, so I entered my own text. You have no control over word size but you have lots of other fun things to play around with. Interesting how no matter what I did, "Israel" remained the largest word in the picture.

Thanks to DebiZ and Jameel!

Blogging Challenges All The Time!

2008-08-21T13:47:00.002+03:00

Last night I had the great honor and pleasure in participating in the first (annual I hope) Jblogger's convention (click the link to see the WebCast, which I am in, I think). What is a JBlogger you ask? It's a Jewish, or perhaps Israeli, blogger. Nefesh B'Nefesh sponsored this convention - free to bloggers - and shamelessly pressed us to use our soapboxes, large and small, to encourage Aliyah.

The highlight of the evening was definitely putting faces to names. So many of us are anonymous bloggers and it was a lot of fun to meet the people whose blogs and comments I read. The panels were interesting and most of the other speakers were reasonable to really good. Binyamin Netanyahu showed up and spent more than half an hour taking questions and holding forth. We were a captive audience but people were not afraid to ask him tough political questions. Well, maybe people were too polite to ask him the tough questions. :)

One of the main issues discussed was how to up readership. Now this is a very small blog, as far as I can tell. I haven't added any analytics to it; I don't know how many hits it gets a day. I don't post regularly enough to keep people on the edge of their seats, waiting for the next installment.

I see my challenge right now not to increase readership, but to increase writership. If I can start blogging regularly, even once a month but really once a month, I think I would then be ready to try and get more readers.

My goal when I started this blog was not to increase Aliyah. The thought never crossed my mind in connection with my writing. I just wanted a place for my stuff, a brain dump, my own personal soapbox. But I have found that, you, Dear Reader, have given me much much more than that. I will do my best to keep writing, if you will only keep reading! And if I get the extra added value that my writing strengthens and deepens your connection with our land, that's the icing on the cake!

Challenge of Blogging, again

2008-08-03T18:30:00.003+03:00

Hi dear readership. I might not post very often and you faithful readers might be few, but Nefesh b'Nefesh has honored me by accepting my application to the JBlogger convention. I'm so pysched! Some of my favorite bloggers will be there either virtually or in the flesh, and it promises to be lots of fun.
Here's the catch. They have asked me to display a 'badge' on my blog. So here goes. After I post this I'm going to try to put up the badge on my blogs.
Let's see if it works!

Challenge of Anonymity

2008-07-02T10:56:00.001+03:00

At the risk of losing my anonymity in this blog, and since actually most people already know who I am so what the heck, you can all read about Chayim Zvi's recovery on the Chayim Zvi blog.

Thank G-d he is doing very very well. We are deeply grateful to all of you out there in Internetland who have contacted us, prayed for us, thought about us, read what we've written and in so many ways showed your caring and concern! You're all amazing!

Our Biggest Challenge Yet

2008-05-18T14:24:00.002+03:00

I actually have a lot to say, much more than I can fit into a nice, easy-to-read blog post. But in short, I just want to let everyone know that our younger son was hit by a car. The miracles were apparent from the start. He's already mostly recovered from his broken leg and jaw. But we had no idea how miraculous the accident was. Because of the tests they did, they discovered he had a brain tumor. Thank G-d, the tumor is very operable and the prognosis is excellent. I hope to be able to post soon with lots of details of how we feel so very blessed, how G-d really just set everything up to be as easy as could be with this challenge, and how wonderous are the Divine workings we have been priviledged to experience and see so clearly.

In the meantime, please daven for Chayim Zvi ben Henye Devorah.

The Challenge of Acceptance

2008-03-12T22:09:00.006+02:00

My friend Jameel posted a story the other day that generated WAY more controversy than I expected. In retrospect, the 15th comment (from Abbi) made a lot of sense.
Jameel posted almost word for word an email that we both got that told a story that happened the night of the massacre at the Merkaz Harav Yeshiva. The gist of the story is that because of a circumstantial phone call, there were 10 fewer people in the library when the terrorist opened fire.

Now for me, this is a tremendous reaffirmation that there is a G-d, that He runs the world, and He is intimately involved in everything that happens. But for some of Jameel's readers it was an insulting concept. One guy even spelled it out:

Why attribute the saving of the 10 to God but not the murder of the 8?
A God who interferes to save 10 but decides not to save the 8 also isn't a God I believe in. God - whatever s/he or it is - lets us get on with running, or ruining, this world as we see fit. So I don't expect too much of Him.

From my point of view, of COURSE G-d took those ten "princes" (in the words of Rav Yoel Bin Nun). Our challenge is not to understand why G-d took them, but to accept that there must be a reason. And even more, to be aware of how much good took place even in the midst of horrific, heartrending tragedy. The very basis of faith (emuna) is that G-d is good, and does good, always. It's our limited perception of events that causes us to label things "bad".

But the last comment says:

It's an issue of timing. People still freshly grieving loved ones are probably not in the mood to hear how God chose to save 10 other men, when He chose to have their son/grandson/nephew/neighbor mowed down in cold blood. In fact, it's just plain insensitive, as many of these people are probably quite angry with God, no matter how frum they are. And they have every right to be. It's beyond agonizing to lose a loved one in such a horrible way.

This is certainly true, and as responsible Jews we have to remember and be sensitive to our audience. Now a blogger never knows who is reading his or her blog, but there are some things are just Not Done, and others that perhaps as believing, G-d-fearing Jews we should try to avoid.
Nevertheless, I take issue with the commenter's closing remark:

(I am also not a fan of these stories especially for this reason and because it just simplifies Gd's behavior and decision making way too much)

The story that I received and Jameel posted gave me a lot of chizuk (support) and nechama (comfort). Because I believe in a G-d who is good and does good, it is comforting to me to know that there WAS a reason for this massacre. The deaths of these boys have meaning and holiness. They serve a purpose that I hope and pray will be revealed to us speedily in our days.

Thanks Jameel. I, for one, am glad you put up the post.

The Challenge of Freedom of Expression

2008-01-18T09:40:00.000+02:00

I can't possibly say it better than my friend Jameel. Read his post at The Muqata

Anyone who thinks that Olmert and his cohorts are real leaders, and that Israel is a democracy, is totally fooling himself (or herself).

Dangerous days are coming. We have to daven very hard!

The Challenge of Failure

2007-11-19T13:56:00.000+02:00

I've been struggling with the concept that all challenges are tailor-made for us, and are always for the best. Intellectually I accept this. It all seems so logical to me: I believe in G-d, I believe in Torah from Sinai, I believe that G-d cares about me, and I believe that everything that happens is from G-d. I believe that G-d is the ultimate goodness so everything that happens to me and my family and friends and nation is ultimately good, even if I don't understand why.

So why do I get so frustrated and angry with things? And I'm talking about little things, not big things. My friend's metastatic cancer - I can take with equanimity. My 8 year old laying on the floor and refusing to listen - I totally lose it. (Sometimes. I'm working on it.)

I started to read (in English) Rav Shalom Arush’s In the Garden of Emuna. The book is translated by Rabbi Lazer Brody (see his LazerBeams blog) and it's amazing. Rav Arush does not try to explain why one should have emuna, but how to strengthen one's emuna and the book is blowing me away.

Rav Arush emphasizes that we all have our mission on Earth, and everything that happens to us is Hashem guiding us on our mission and helping us to reach our goal, our tikkun.

I'm only about 60 pages into the book, but it has had a profound impact on me and I recommend it very highly.

One conclusion I've reached, after lots of discussion with people wiser and more experienced than I, is that we are not meant to overcome some challenges. We are meant to fail. Because "success" or "failure" is not the true goal of the challenge Hashem is giving us.

In basic training for the US Marines, I am told, they are given a mission: they have five minutes to get a mortally "wounded" soldier up a huge hill to the waiting helicopters for evacuation. To make a long story short, the conditions make it impossible to succeed. The point of the exercise is not whether the soldiers succeed or not. The point of the mission is how they handle failure. Do they collapse? Do they give up? Do they melt down? Or do they keep their heads and keep going? It's their REACTIONS that are being tested, not their success or failure.

Another excellent example of a challenge that cannot be overcome is the Star Trek Star Fleet Acadamy exercise called The Kobayashi Maru. Although this is fictional, it perfectly represents what really does happen in life. We are frequently faced with no-win situations. What do you do, for example, when you have to put three kids to bed at the same time, and they ALL want you to read a story, but no one is willing to share. You have to read one story, to one child, in that child's bed, without any other child listening. Each child needs that. They need it! But you are one person. It's a no-win situation at that moment.

So our job, our mission, what Hashem wants from us at that moment is to not lose our cool. To find a creative way to cope, and to be prepared to cope. To work on ourselves so that we don't lose our cool, and to accept without giving up. To not beat ourselves up because we are not perfect and better than perfect.

And of course to believe that this is what Hashem expects from us.

The Challenge of Posting Regularly

2007-11-04T22:54:00.000+02:00

So now I suddenly have this small but really friendly and nice following. Wow! People want to read what I write. This changes things. Up till now this has really been a "place for my stuff". Now I have to write something! I was tossing around the idea of writing something about the Beit HaMikdash, how it's got to be a part of creating unity, not something that waits for unity, that it's critical for us, that we dare not wait patiently for it to fall from the sky. But what I want to say just isn't gelling.

So I just want to say that it's another reminder that everything, EVERYTHING is from Hashem, including inspiration.

We recently were privileged to hear Rav Chaim Sabato speak about inspiration in his writing. He pointed out that one can follow the rules of good writing and still not write well. One needs a certain amount of inspiration to make an impact on the reader. The phrase that came to mind was, "Milim sheyotzim mehalev, nichnasim lalev." In English: Words that come from the heart enter the heart. So if anything I have written has really touched you, know that what I write comes from my heart. But Rav Sabato said that when he writes he is not in a constant state of inspiration. Inspiration only comes sometimes. I can attest to that. I'm always so impressed by bloggers who manage to put something up daily, or even weekly.

So here is my little offering - another small reminder that we don't really control anything at all. Baruch Hashem, I found something to write about!

The Challenge of a New Year

2007-09-19T16:03:00.000+02:00

L'refuat RivkA bat Teirtzel

The paytan in the Rosh Hashana machzor (Achot Ketana) tells us, “Let the year and its curses conclude! Let the year and its blessings begin!” How is this year different than last? It is in our perception of the events we have experienced. Whatever challenges we tackle, whatever our difficulties, whatever our pain, we can choose how we look at the experience. Are we growing from it? Are we becoming better people? Are we now more empathetic? With our experience, can we now help others in similar straits?

At the same time, we of course do not seek out challenges. Rabbi Dovid Orlofsky, in a shiur about raising children, emphasizes that one must daven for “normal” tzaar gidul banim (pain of raising children). Tzaar gidul banim there will be, but please Hashem let it be normal: normal illnesses, normal experiences. I would expand on that and say that our prayer must be for normal challenges! We need challenge to grow and to become better people, but please Hashem, only the most normal and mundane challenges: Will I get a raise, not will I find a job. Will I get over this cold, not will I recover from this serious illness.

Recognizing that our challenges ultimately are for our benefit, and giving over control to Hashem, will also help us meet our challenges with more strength and calm.

And don't get the idea that I think this is all easy. I know it's not. Some of my friends are dealing with awesome challenges, and I don't mean "awesome" the way we did when we were 16. And I am in awe of how they are meeting these challenges!

Paradoxically, the key to accepting that everything is for the good is ... to see the good. To see the good in EVERYTHING. And this takes practice.

At the beginning of the school year the teacher of one of our kid's classes emphasized that we can give our kids a tremendous head start at success by looking at their work every day, and only seeing the good. "Even if he just drew a straight line at the top of the page and didn't write anything else at all, praise that line! But do not criticise." And after 3 weeks of school we see tremendous good coming from this child. Relentlessly positive interactions are making the difference.

If we can be relentlessly positive about everything, we'll suffer less, feel better about our pain, spend less time moping, get to the really important stuff. That's our challenge. To see the coming year and it's blessing, and not to see the curses.

Gemar Chatima Tova

The Challenge of Judging Favorably

2007-07-02T20:36:00.000+03:00

L'ilui nishmat Itta bat Eliyahu

Thank you to everyone who learned from the book Chafetz Chaim on the laws of Shmirat Halashon in memory of my mother, a'h.

Picture the scene. You put up shiva notices, sent out bar mitzvah invitations, even made phone calls to tell people about the bris, left messages, sent emails.

And he/she/they didn't come.

Why not? I'm sure there was a good reason. There must be, because the Kadosh Baruch Hu gave us a mitzvah (in Vayikra 19:15) we are commanded to judge our fellow man with righteousness - zedek. And Pirkei Avot that ultimate mussar sefer tells us "Give every man the benefit of the doubt".

The Chafetz Chaim tells us that the key to shmirat halashon is giving others the benefit of the doubt!

Just imagine. You phone up the house of a respectable, even important Rav. To to voice on the other end of the line you ask, "Is Abba there?" The reply is negative. "So may I please speak to Ima?" "No. Ima shochevet im Ploni" (Literally: Ima is laying down with an anonymous man". What to think? Would it ever occur to you that in that house there was a new little baby boy, whom the older siblings were calling "ploni" (little no name) until the bris? And the four-year-old of the house thought that's his name: Ploni. What could make more sense? Ima is resting with the baby! Ploni!

We must go to great lengths to find a zechut, to give the benefit of the doubt. And never more so than in the parent-child relationship.

In Rav Sabato's Shabbat Pirkei Avot shiur, when he came to this mishna, he emphasized how teachers must give the benefit of the doubt to the children who are making trouble. Has the child eaten? Did he sleep enough? What's going on in his house, with his family? But I want to emphasize that as parents and as children we must give the benefit of the doubt!

I can think of several examples where giving the benefit of the doubt would have made things smoother between my mother and me. And at the end of her life, when she wouldn't admit it but she was at best very uncomfortable physically, I learned to give her the benefit of the doubt when she was annoyed with me, to not take it personally, to understand that it was love talking when my mother said things that were difficult for me to hear.

During the shiva I spoke a lot about gratitude. Now I want to encourage you all to give your parents (and children!) the benefit of the doubt when they are behaving in ways that bother you. Reach for that zechut! It might be as close as, "Hey mom, did you eat yet today?" or as far-fetched as "I thought you said your flight was Monday morning, not Monday evening, so I scheduled my flight for Monday morning. I'm so sorry we won't have more time together."

Remember, this is the key to shmirat halashon, which is a critical piece to bringing unity and the final redemption, may we merit experiencing it in our days.

No Second Chances?

2007-06-06T10:57:00.000+03:00

L’ilui nishmat Itta bat Eliyahu
I like to tell my kids that G-d always gives them another chance. You made a mistake? Try again. It’s the essence of teshuva, repentance, that Hashem is always ready and willing to have us back. I try and emulate that with my kids and when, once again, the laundry is around the hamper and not in it, I remind myself that Our Father in heaven certainly is patient with me and my weaknesses.
This past week I lost my mother. She’d been ill for months, years even. Persistent, insistent, independent to the end, last Friday she relaxed her hold on a vibrant life of 82 years and G-d in His infinite kindness spared her suffering and what she surely would have seen as the degradation of 24 hour nursing care.
I didn’t attend the funeral and I am spending the traditional week of mourning here in Israel instead of the US with my family. I was not with her in her last moments. I was not even on my way to her, as my siblings were. I had planned long ago that I would mourn here, surrounded by my children, husband and community.
My brother warned me a few days before, after my mom had her heart attack: “You won’t get a second chance at this. Be sure you are making the right decision.”
About seventeen years ago my mother and I had a tremendous fight. I angered and hurt her terribly and I, in turn, was hurt that she so didn’t understand me or my values. A friend gave me this suggestion:

Write to your mother every week. Share your life with her in detail. And in every letter, find something, large or small, to thank her for. Because parents never get enough gratitude.

Parents never get enough gratitude.
So I did it. I wrote a letter a week, a real letter. OK, I printed it on our printer but I had to sign it, put it in an envelope, address and stamp the envelope, and mail it. No email available to us in Israel then. I did this for almost a year, until I became pregnant with my first child, and we moved house. It had a profound and unbelievable impact on my relationship with my mom.
Strike that. It created a relationship with my mom where before I wasn’t sure I wanted one.
Through the years my mom and I shared so much! I didn’t always agree with her advice. She often didn’t understand my point of view. But we communicated and we loved one another and we tried.
In the past few years, as my mother tried to fight the aging of her body because her sense of self was so young, her energy went to preserving her independence. Just before her heart attack she was still living alone. She walked with tremendous difficulty but she still drove, went out with friends, sent emails, made phone calls and did her own shopping. The Sunday before she died she went to theater! She tried to baby herself without giving up on living her life as she wanted to.
Her inward focus made it more important for me to listen to her than to talk to her. At some point I started calling her daily. It became something we both looked forward to, and if I didn’t call mom soon enough, she’d call me. “Just to hear your voice” she’d say.
From my perspective, everything I did in my relationship with my mother in the last year of her life was based on observing the mitzvah of honoring my mother to the best of my ability. I gave her from all my resources, because I felt the obligation of honoring her to be paramount.
Now that she is gone, it is a tremendous comfort to me that I feel that I did my best in this mitzvah. And that I can give her a shiva totally devoted to her honor and praise. She will be with me in everything. Sometimes she’ll be that little voice telling me I’m making a mistake. But she’ll know that, just as she always expected from me, that I’m doing my best. And I’m deeply grateful that I don’t need a second chance.
May her memory be a blessing.

Challenge of Chomesh (short version)

2007-04-25T16:40:00.000+03:00

(previous post provides the long version)

What better way to celebrate Israel Independence Day than to spend the day walking through the land with thousands of fellow lovers of Zion? When we heard about the walk to Chomesh, it was clear to the whole family that we’d be there. I’m deeply grateful we went.

We left Ma’aleh Adumim at about 10:20. After a pit stop at Ofra we continued towards Shavei Shomron. We got very close to the intersection of Zomet Jit. We couldn’t continued by bus. Smaller vehicles were still going forward but it was clear that we weren’t. We piled off the bus and started walking. It was about noon. I figured, we’ll walk 15-20 minutes, get to Shavei Shomron, eat, and start our hike. Boy, was I wrong! We started walking to Zomet Jit and then towards Shavei Shomron.

Jeeps drove up and down the road. People blocked the jeeps, singing and ignoring them. After about 90 minutes we came to a row of jeeps and LOTS of guys in black. Black jumpsuits labeled “Zahal”, but, surprise! No names. No insignia. We saw a knot of men yelling and pushing. Us and Them. Then I saw the scariest guy in black jump at one of our guys. Two of our guys intervened. Our guy was put in the back of a jeep. Someone was yelling, “Jews with cameras, come take pictures!” Drat! We forgot the camera.

My kids and I were shaken. We had been walking near a group of girls from the Ulpana in Shvut Rachel. They had a guitar and a harmonica and were singing. When the fight started they all screamed and ran to the side. After we passed the jeeps they started to play again, but more subdued.

Then my daughter called - a girl had been knocked down by a jeep. My daughter told me that the jeep came speeding along. A girl who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough received a glancing blow from the front wheel. Before she could recover she was also hit by the back wheel! My daughter didn’t know how badly the girl was hurt, or what happened to her, but was understandably upset.

As we got closer to the crossroads some of our guys were screaming at the guys in black. Finally one of the younger guys in black gave a shove to our guy, but his fellow black jumpsuits pulled him away. Our guys were provocative, though I can understand them. Baruch Hashem we got passed that too.

After a break for food and water we started to hike. Eretz Yisrael yafa v’gam porachat. Such flowers, such greenery. Beautiful weather, cooling breezes, am yisrael beyachad. People singing. It was great.

I chatted with a woman from Katif. On the one hand, she said that she would have prefered Katif First but she expressed gratitude that the Katif community is still all together and that they are managing. She said that the community was so wonderful that she would do it again. It was worth it, she said, to have lived in Katif.

Not long after that we came upon Tzvi Katzover talking about how many times they had to try before they succeeded in establishing Elon Moreh. He was really interesting. I wish I’d heard more.

As we got to the road that leads to Chomesh from Sebastia, we found the way blocked by a pile of dirt, and men trying to pull it down. We started up the road and someone pointed out the hill that Chomesh is on. It looked MUCH further than I expected, and I had forgotten how high it is. Walking was getting really tough for me.

The view became more breathtaking. People’s spirits were up. People on bicycles were going by, people were starting to come down.

Finally we saw people going up a steep little path. Hey! Maybe this is the path to the Chomesh hill! I was sure that we were close. We weren’t. More than an hour remained!

In short, I made my way up to Chomesh, step by painful step. The closer we got to Chomesh, the more people were coming down. Still, everyone was happy and enjoying the outing. Feeling good, happy to be Jews in Israel. The view on the road was stunning. We could see the whole coastal plain spread out below us and the sea. People were trying to encourage us: “You’re close! You’re almost there!”

Finally, we reached Chomesh. I wasn’t able to continue up to the top where the atzeret was, but my kids made sure to take the marshmallows.

I waited as it began to get dark. The stunning sunset was also scary. Streams of people were leaving. My family collected me and we started walking to where we the shuttle buses were supposed to have been. We stopped there with 100s of other people hoping that the army would HAVE to move us. My husband got me into an army van that was bringing down injured.

We thought the van was taking us to Shavei Shomron but it dropped us off back at the Shavei Shomron crossroads. All the buses were at Zomet Jit! The good people of Shavei Shomron were shuttling walkers from the yishuv to Zomet Jit. At Jit I was able to get a bus to Jerusalem and make my way home. I was home by 11:10
My day was not done. Hubby had organized the bus from Ma’aleh Adumim, and now his cell phone was failing and he was still at Chomesh. I became the command center, taking and making calls to our group to make sure we knew where everyone was and that everyone knew where to meet the bus. My family finally got on a bus to go down to Shavei Shomron. Coming down the mountain was slow because there were still many people walking on the road. Finally at 12:15, hubby and kids got on the Ma’aleh Adumim bus at Shavei Shomron.

In conclusion, I believe it was the best possible way to spend Yom Ha’atzmaut. Nevertheless the army’s treatment of the marchers was contemptible and was totally political. Had they allowed the shuttle buses, the soldiers would have been able to finish much earlier. Instead the tired soldiers had to remain to protect the tired marchers in the dark. What lesson did they teach us? That we cannot rely on the army? It was very frustrating. In my opinion hating the army is hating ourselves. We cannot hate the army. But we can protest and condemn the political machine that forces us to harm ourselves.

I’m glad we went. I think it was very important that we went. I hope my kids will be glad they went - if not now then when they’re older. We MUST walk this land, because that’s how we show it’s ours. Maybe I wouldn’t go, but I’d certainly send my kids again.

Next year, may we all be marching to re-establish all the destroyed communities, and to establish new ones! Am yisrael, b’eretz yisrael, b’torat yisrael. Ani ma’amin!

The Challenge of Chomesh (very long)

2007-04-25T09:24:00.000+03:00

Israel Independence Day. What better way to celebrate the existance of a Jewish state than to spend the day walking through the land with thousands of fellow lovers of Zion? When we heard about the walk to Chomesh, it was clear to the whole family that we'd be there. And it was GREAT.

I want to say at the outset that I'm deeply grateful we went, and that I don't regret a minute of it. Most of it wasn't physically difficult and I think that the whole family enjoyed most of the day. Nevertheless there were some major personal challenges, and of course the challenge the army presented us all.

We were scheduled to leave at 10 am, but we left late (standard operating procedure). We left about 10:20, I guess. We left Ma'aleh Adumim and took the Hizme road. We actually made a shortcut through Hizme, avoiding the traffic at the checkpoint of Pisgat Ze'ev. From there on Road 60, past the Sha'ar Binyamin industrial area, past Kochav Yaakov, past the turnoff to Michmas, Rimonim and Kochav HaShachar. We made a pit stop in Ofra. Then we continued on past Shilo, Eli, Hawara, turned off on the way to Yitzhar and then got very close to to the intersection of Zomet Jit. Our bus driver stopped. Buses in front of him were stopped. Smaller vehicles were still going forward but it was clear that we weren't. We got information that we had to get out and walk - and that it was only a kilometer. I think what they meant was it was only a kilometer to Zomet Jit. :) So we piled off the bus and started walking. It was about noon then, but for some reason I didn't think of lunch. I figured, we'll walk 15-20 minutes, get to Shavei Shomron, eat, and start our hike. Boy, was I wrong!

I'm not in wonderful shape, but I can walk for a couple of hours before my feet start hurting, especially if I do it at my own pace, which I did. I was walking with my two youngest kids (daughter age 3, son age 7). My youngest daughter was a real trooper. All the kids were, really. Anyway, we started walking to Zomet Jit and then towards Shavei Shomron. Some people did it in 60-90 minutes but it took me all of 2 hours. My husband went ahead with our oldest son (almost bar mitzvah) and our middle daughter (9). Our oldest daughter (almost 15) had already taken off with her friends. OK.

On the way, jeeps kept running up and down the road. Some of the young people would block the jeeps, singing away and just ignoring them. About 90 minutes after we started walking we came to a row of jeeps and LOTS of guys in black. Black jumpsuits that said "Zahal" on them, but surprise! No names. No ranks. There seemed to be a knot of men yelling, maybe pushing. Us and Them. The guys in black will ALWAYS be "them" to me. The summer war really restored the army for me in a big way, especially when a co-worker's son was killed. But the guys in black? Those guys are scary and threatening. I can't connect with them. Anyway, I digress.

So there was this knot of men yelling, then I saw the scariest guy in black jump at one of our guys, and two of our guys held off the man in black. Our guy was put in the back of a jeep. Someone was yelling, "Jews with cameras, come take pictures!" Drat! We forgot to bring the camera. What a mistake!

My son was especially freaked, and so was I. We had been walking near this really nice group of girls from the Ulpana in Shvut Rachel. They had a guitar and a harmonica and were singing and playing. When the fight started they all screamed and ran to the side. After we got passed the jeeps they started to play again, but much more subdued. My son noticed that. And he kept asking me, "What happened? What happened?"

Then my daughter called - a girl had been knocked down by a jeep. My daughter told me that the jeep came speeding along. A girl who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough received a glancing blow from the front wheel. Before she could recover she was also hit by the back wheel! My daughter didn’t know how badly the girl was hurt, or what happened to her, but was understandably upset.

Later, as we got closer to the Shavei Shomron intersection, some of our guys were screaming at the guys in black - really not nice stuff. Finally one of the younger guys in black gave a shove to our guy, but his fellow black jumpsuits pulled him away. Our guys were very provocative, though I can understand them. This also freaked us out a bit. Baruch Hashem we got passed that too. As we started down the hill to the Shavei Shomron intersection my feet were starting to hurt, and I was a little nervous about continuing, but we weren't sure what choice I had. As it was, it's a good thing I went on, even though I probably shouldn't have gone at all. Hubby met us as we came down, and we tried to decide what next. Chocolate break!

At the Shavei Shomron intersection we stopped for a snack. It was already after 2 pm but I didn't want to eat a big lunch. I figured we still had a 2 hour hike ahead of us through the fields, and it would be better to eat light. We had string cheese, and nuts (good energy food), and refilled our water bottles. At the intersection there were people selling shirts. In retrospect, I wish we'd bought shirts for all the kids. A momento would have been a good thing for them. Oh well. Everyone was in good spirits though my kids, especially my little son, were really concerned about what the guys in black were up to. After we ate, our oldest son decided to go on ahead without us - we were too slow. Our oldest daughter was long gone. She got there hours before us. Even our oldest son got there way before us!

So we started to hike. Eretz Yisrael yafa v'gam porachat. Such flowers, such greenery. Beautiful weather, cooling breezes, am yisrael beyachad. Yeshiva boys singing. It was great. Not a hard hike, no hard climbs. Our youngest walked and walked and walked. Hubby took charge of our youngest because I cannot carry her and I was concerned that she'd soon refuse to walk. I move ahead of him with middle daughter and youngest son. It was lovely. We enjoyed being together so much!

I chatted with a woman from Katif. On the one hand, she said that she would have prefered Katif First (the motto of the march was Chomesh First) but she expressed gratitude that the Katif community is still all together and that they are managing. She said that the community was so wonderful that she would have done it again even knowing that they would be expelled years later. It was worth it, she said, to have lived in Katif.

Not long after that we came upon Tzvi Katzover, one of the original Gush Emunim, talking about how many times they had to try before they succeeded in establishing Elon Moreh. He was really interesting. Gidon caught up to us there, and then stayed to daven mincha. I went on with the three youngest kids. At this point, my feet were REALLY killing me and I was starting to wonder what was going to be. I though we had maybe another hour to go, and I was wondering how I was going to manage. We kept on.

A nice lady stopped to point out to us the herb "shumar". When crushed it has a licorice smell so we stopped to make the blessing and enjoy. She also said it was good to eat but my kids didn't like it. :)

As we got to the asphalt road that leads to Chomesh from Sebastia, we found the way blocked by a pile of dirt, and men trying to pull it down. It was an army blockade of the path, but I'm not sure if it was put there against us or against arabs to prevent free movement. We started up the asphalt and someone pointed out the hill that Chomesh is on. It looked MUCH further than I expected, and I had forgotten how high it is. Walking was getting really tough, but we pushed on.

It was getting more difficult for me to enjoy the walk. Asphalt is not fields, not pretty. At one place there was a stretch with garbage piled all along the side of the road for many meters. Much too much to have been random stuff blown there, or thrown out windows. Gross! But people's spirits were up. People on bicycles were going by, people were starting to come down. It was between 4 and 5 o'clock. At this point, I stopped looking at my watch.

FINALLY we saw people going up a steep little path. Hey! Maybe this is the path to the Chomesh hill! I finally saw a rock that I could sit down on and rest. (Standing was harder than walking, and sitting on the ground was just not an option for me.)Gidon caught up with us there. He explained that all the people with strollers were staying on the road and that the people climbing the path would meet up with the road. Somehow I didn't get that I thought Chomesh was at the top of that path. I pushed myself up. It was the only time I was winded the whole walk (maybe I'm not in SUCH bad shape, just bad varicose veins.) But I was sure that we were close. We weren't. We had more than an hour ahead of us!

To make a long story short I made my way up to Chomesh, step by painful step. The closer we got to Chomesh, the more people were coming down. But still, everyone was happy and enjoying the outing. Feeling good, happy to be Jews in Israel. The view on the road was stunning. We could see the whole coastal plain spread out below us and the sea. People were trying to encourage us: "You're close! You're almost there!" Finally we could see the water tower in the distance.

As we walked between two signs that read "Sha'ar Chomesh" (Chomesh Gate) our oldest son came running up to greet us. There was still a hill to get up, and I just couldn't do it. Gidon moved on ahead with the kids, but once I was several meters "in" I just gave up and sat down. It was about 6:20. I spent over an hour sitting by the side of the road. I missed the Atzeret, the mangal, everything. I watched more and more people coming down. I saw Michael Puah of Manhigut Yehudit, and many people in Likud/Manhigut shirts. Young families, singles, kids, older people, non-religious, one guy in a long black coat and a round hat, with beautiful long curly peyos, and a wife who looked like a typical "Ulpanistit" with a mitpachat, peasant skirt, orange top. A few people stopped to ask if I needed help. My kids came down to collect the marshmellows and skewers from me. At around 7 Gidon came to say that he was looking for a ride for me to Shavei Shomron. He even tried to get me into an ambulance!

I was getting more and more nervous, tired and uncomfortable. The stunning sunset was also scary. Everyone seemed to be leaving. Where was my family? Finally they came and we started walking to where we hoped the shuttle buses would be. As you might have heard on the news, the army did not let the shuttle busses come up to just below Chomesh. They didn't even let them come to Shavei Shomron until about 11 pm! People started down the hill. We stayed where we were with 100s of other people with the idea that the army would HAVE to move us. Problem was, I couldn't stand, and there was nowhere to sit. Finally Gidon was able to get me into an army van that was bringing down sick and injured. I took Moriyah and skeddadled. In the van was Tzippy Shlissel of Chevron. What a woman! She was giving it to the two chayalim in the van, how she can't stand to see a uniform, how she had to move 5 times in 5 months because of the army telling them they could move into a place and then kicking them out. The chaylim were interesting too. At least one guy - he's from Kiryat Shemona and he was saying how in all the years of ketyushas (before Lebanon I) the settlers never came north. Or almost never. Whatever. I met a nice lady from Kochav Hashacher, and an older lady was telling Tzippi Shlissel about her experience with the Altelena. If I heard her correctly she was actually on the ship!

We thought the van was taking us to shavei shomron but it dropped us off back at zomet Shavei Shomron, where we'd started. And all the buses were at Zomet Jit! The good people of Shavei Shomron were shuttling walkers from the yishuv to zomet Jit. I had some hashgacha pratit when a van stopped in front of me and two people got out. A woman who had come down with me, and I, hopped in. At Zomet Jit I met neighbors who told me that the bus driver was nowhere to be found, and that they were getting on a bus to Jerusalem. We opted to join them, and a good thing. I was home by 11:10.

My day was not done. Hubby had organized the bus from Ma'aleh Adumim, and now his cell phone was failing and he was still at Chomesh. I became the command center, taking and making calls to all of our bus to make sure we knew where everyone was and that everyone knew where to meet the bus. My family got on a bus to go down to Shavei Shomron at around 11:30, or maybe 11:45. Coming down the mountain was slow because there were still many, many people walking on the road. Finally at 12:15, hubby got on the Ma'aleh Adumim bus with the kids at Shavei Shomron. It only took them an hour after that to get to Ma'aleh Adumim.

In conclusion, I believe it was the best possible way to spend Yom Ha'atmaut. The army's treatment of the marchers was contemptible and was totally political. Had they allowed the shuttle buses, the soldiers would have been able to finish much earlier. Instead the tired soldiers had to remain to protect the tired marchers in the dark. Less than ideal conditions! What lesson did they teach us? That we cannot rely on the army? It was very frustrating. In my opinion hating the army is hating ourselves. We cannot hate the army. But we can protest and condemn the political machine that forces us to harm ourselves.

I'm glad we went. I think it was very important that we went. I hope my kids will be glad they went - if not now then when they're older. We MUST walk this land, because that's how we show it's ours. Maybe I wouldn't do it again, but I'd certainly send my kids again.

Next year, may we all be marching to re-establish all the destroyed communities, and to establish new ones! Am yisrael, b'eretz yisrael, b'torat yisrael. Ani ma'amin!

Other people's blogs

2007-03-26T19:14:00.000+02:00

OK, as more and more of my friends have blogs, I am challenged to post here more often. Now another friend started a blog: www.israelisoldiersmother.blogspot.com.

On the one hand, she's got what seems to be a "normal" challenge in this country. How many mother's sons go to the army. (I wonder what the answer is, and I wonder how many of THEM are in combat units.) On the other hand, her will be in a combat unit. Maybe not a marine ("in harm's way") or something that front line, but combat none the less. So getting through every day is undoubtedly its own, special challenge.

I can only daven for her and all the other mothers out there, and their sons ...

Doing our best

2007-01-30T14:05:00.000+02:00

When DH and I first married, he began to teach me how ineffectual "woulda shoulda coulda" thinking is. Recently I've learned another aspect of how to relate to choices we have made. We have to believe in ourselves, and we have to believe that we are doing our best - especially when it comes to our kids. We are doing our best given the resources, information, support and other demands that we have. We are doing our best and if our best is not sufficient, well, that's OK too. Because we cannot possible do better than our best. We don't have to apologize. We don't have to feel guilty. We don't have to kill ourselves emotionally or physically. If at a later point we are fortunate enough to be able to try something different because we learned more, experienced more or something in our environment changed, that's great. Try again. But if we are doing our best that's ALL WE CAN DO.

When child #1 was about to start 9th grade she went to her math tutor for some review. The math tutor was adamant that there was no reason why child #1 should not be in the highest math class (5 yechidot) . When she took the test, she tested into the middle math class (4 yechidot) . For months she struggled in that class. She liked the teacher. She tried to do the homework. But it was too hard for her in a class with well over 30 girls. She stopped doing the homework, started skipping class, and eventually was failing out. She moved down to the lowest class (3 yechidot) . What did we learn from it? That she could be in the highest class - if she would be the only student in the class. That even doing her best, being in the middle class was too much of a challenge, given all the other factors in her life and the actual classroom environment. So it's completely OK that she's in the lowest class. There's no issue of "not living up to her potential" because she is doing her best and this is where her best can take her at this moment.

:)

More school/system challenges

2007-01-15T23:36:00.000+02:00

But I'm positive. I'm feeling positive. At least we have some direction. We know who to ask. I'd like to see a website that concentrates in one place all the different things that the system gives, and when. Like, when do you get "hora'a metakenet" and when a kita mikademet and when a kitat tikshorat and when do you have to go to special ed. And what tax breaks can you get and when, and how do you get money from bituach leumi and for what? Does this mean I should take responsibility for finding and posting all this information? I hope not! There are other people out there who are already well on their way to having this information. :)
The good news is that we have sat with representatives of Pa'amonim and we are not in as bad shape as we thought. We are working on closing the gap, and it's also a big challenge, but to make more money might be the solution and might be attainable.
A little over two weeks ago I cut off a tiny piece of my finger while chopping vegetables. Would that all our challenges would be so easy to meet! I ended up at Terem (immediate care) and they put glue on it to stop the bleeding. I also got a tetanus shot and four days off work. Baruch Hashem!

the israeli public school system

2006-10-12T13:00:00.000+02:00

Working with a school system with a limited budget and too many needs, we're finding that helping our young son feel good about himself and school is probably one of our biggest challenges. (The biggest challenge by far is a livelihood. If money was no object we'd have more options for our son.)

I'm looking for creative ways to work within the system to help him fit in his own way instead of being forced to be the square peg he is not and cannot be.

Some of the ideas we are tossing around:

Find some sort of "kosher" way for him to walk out of class. This requires a supervised place for him to go, and something enticing and constructive for him to do. The getting him out of class is not so tough. It's the "supervised" part that's hard.
There is a boy in the 6th grade who has a great connection with our son. They really enjoy each others company. The boy is not a strong student, but he's really really good and SENSITIVE. Quite amazing in an 11 year old boy. I wonder if there would be a way to set up some sort of paired study between them.
We have a friend-and-neighbor who is a retired school principal. She'd be happy to volunteer to work with our son on a regular basis. The question is, what would they do together?

I'd like to get him into Karate (really Judo) but he'd rather do basketball. Oh well.

I'm also looking for resources in HEBREW to give to his teachers. There are seven boys in the class with attention deficit disorder in some for or another and the teachers have their hands full in keeping order, so when our son gets up and walks out I'm sure that in some ways it's a relief.

So does anyone have a magic bullet? :)

Thoughts about Yom Kippur and Forgiveness and Why We're Here

2006-10-04T23:20:00.000+02:00

Before Yom Kippur I had an amazing insight. One of my kids apologized for something (really! it really happened!) and I forgave the child. I don't remember which kid, or what that person did, but I remember thinking, "Wow! I totally forgive this child even though I KNOW he or she will do this thing again and again! So THAT'S how Yom Kippur works!"

On Yom Kippur eve Rabbi Gedaliah Meyer spoke about missed spiritual opportunities. Rabbi Mati Wagner spoke before ne'ilah. He spoke about how the liturgy doesn't really focus on positive acts and mitzvot we neglect, but rather on wrong actions we do. He brought the Ba'al HaTanya who taught that every positive mitzvah we do lights a candle along the way. Each opportunity is literally once-in-a-lifetime. If you miss it, that's a little less light on the road. Scary. But discussing it with Rabbi Yitzhak Zuriel today in the van home from work, he had this insight: If you stand at the end of the road and look back at all the candles, the lights will merge together, even if there are gaps here and there. It will still be one long line of light. Pretty neat!

Last year I heard Rabbi Zuriel speak about the creation of the world. Rav Kook asks, "Why did G-d create the world?" We know that G-d is, by definition, perfect. But being perfect, there is one thing G-d cannot do (nothing to do with rocks). G-d cannot improve. So G-d created the world so that He could be a partner in the process of improvement! Rabbi Zuriel and I also discussed this tonight in the van. Rabbi Zuriel pointed out that keeping that in mind is really uplifting, because it says right away in the Torah that the world is tov (good). Even tov me'od (very good)! Telling someone they can improve doesn't necessarily mean the person wasn't good to begin with - it just means that the person can become (even) better. Wow!

So these things taken together mean that when we are feeling challenged we have to remember:
a) Hashem forgives us even though we keep blowing it. Hashem lets us try again.
b) Challenge is an opportunity, It might be the opportunity for a mitzvah or simply a stepping-stone for spiritual growth. It's even a unique opportunity and even though we can try again another time, this particular opportunity will never return.
c) Even if that particular opportunity will never return, if we catch enough of the opportunities we will still have a cohesive line of light representing our lives
d) We are fundamentally good. We are just trying to be better.

About time I wrote something

2006-10-04T14:35:00.000+02:00

Drat! I wrote a whole post and it got lost somewhere in the ether. Only the title came through. What does Hashem want from me? Is it because I wrote the post while at work? Is it because I wrote something I shouldn't?
Oh well. I'll try to write tonight.

2006-08-27T00:04:00.000+03:00

My First Rejection Letter!

Hurray! Ein simcha kehatarat hasfaykot. There is no happiness like the resolution of doubt. Aish.com did not want my slightly revised version of We Can't Go Back Down, but they suggested I submit it to Torah.Org. I wrote to them now to ask for their submission criteria.

On the family front, I see that it is still very hard for Elisheva, but she does take herself in hand and try again. This is a big improvement! I'm nervous about the start of the school year for her and for Chayim Zvi. But we are pray and working to help them have a successful year.

Akiva's school has been delayed for a week. The temporary quarters aren't ready yet. :) Or as my lawyer says (his context was law, but it's true for so many things): There is nothing so permanent as something temporary.

2006-08-21T22:15:00.000+03:00

Right now my challenges are much more localized. Today I was home with my two youngest kids. The other kids were with DH. I can have wells and wells of patience for the little one. She's almost two-and-a-half. She demands a LOT of patience. But I have it. I can be patient with her. I can even enjoy her little thunderstorms of frustration. They pass relatively easily, or we can help her with her frustration. The next one up, he's a big challenge. I have NO patience for him, and he really needs it. Today it was him and his hands - touching things that don't belong to him. It's turned into a mantra for the whole family. Even the baby knows: "If it's not yours, don't touch it." But he just can't control himself. I find myself screaming. We're trying really hard not to raise our voices but I just lost it today. Finally I sent him to his room and he actually kept himself harmlessly busy for a while.

Here is a list of daily challenges:
Getting the children or child out of the house on time, with whatever they're supposed to have with them
Keeping the ones who don't have anything formal to do busy
Preparing lunch by remote control (I'm at work, most of the family is home)
Planning dinner on the fly
Dealing with the heat. It's HOT here. Awful.
Eating what I should, and avoiding what I should not eat
Getting people to bed when they need to go (including myself)
Keeping calm/not raising my voice
Not getting involved in the kids' perpetual fights
and so on

2006-08-21T17:43:00.000+03:00

It's not so easy to blog (not that I thought it would be). First of all I need discipline - something I'm sorely lacking. Then there's the time thing. One of my biggest challenges is making the time to do everything that needs doing. I'm pretty good at my routine, but shake that routine, even the littlest bit, and I'm floundering. Sunday is white laundry. Monday is kids' laundry. Tuesday is mine and DH's. Wednesday is the baby's. Thursday is anything else. Elisheva does her own. But if I miss a night or two of laundry I'm in trouble.
Yes, yes, I know. Flylady.net. I've heard of it. I'm not there yet. I'm too busy putting one foot in front of the other. :)
And trying to do it with a smile - at least I usually succeed at that.

We Can't Go Back Down

2006-08-18T09:02:00.000+03:00

The more than 30 days of the most recent war were heart-wrenching for the whole country. Every person, on some level, was worried, stressed, strained. Most of all, we were afraid. And what frightened us most was the thought that soldiers would continue to be killed. But we were strong. We understood just how necessary it was that we go to war. But at the same time we were frightened out of our wits at the price we might have to pay (and did).

But something happened that brought home to me just what is going on here, something that in my humble opinion would be a good thing for all of us to keep in mind. What happened was that my oldest son went on a trip with his summer camp.

Akiva is 12 years old. He’s almost a stereotypical yeshiva kid: chubby and pale, with thick glasses—physically fit he’s not. He also happens to be afraid of heights. Last erev Pesach on our family outing we had some tough moments where he was almost frozen with fear. Somehow, we didn’t consider that when he left in the morning for camp, and neither did he. Nevertheless, he went off on the trip, to Ein Bokek. Ein Bokek is a spring near Ein Gedi, in the Dead Sea area. If you’ve ever been around there you know that there are high cliffs.

When they got to Ein Bokek, Akiva did not want to climb. His counselor cajoled him into trying. So up he went, but at some point he became hysterical. The head counselor stayed with him and the whole camp went on. Finally, when Akiva still refused to continue, the head counselor phoned me. I said to Akiva, “You can do this.” “I can’t!” “You can. You did Wadi Kelt [erev pesach] and you can do this.” “I can’t.” “Akiva, sweetheart, you have to go forward.” “I can’t! I want to go back down!” “You can. You can move forward. You can’t go back down. You have to move forward” “I can’t!” “I’ll get you a big prize.” “I don’t want a prize! I want to go back down!”

We went back and forth, me trying to encourage him, him insisting he couldn’t go. Finally, I’m not sure what I said, but he agreed to try. About 30 minutes later the head counselor called again to say that they were moving forward, that Akiva’s counselor was with them. He did do it, and he even felt pretty good. Though I’d venture a guess that he’ll refuse to do it again, or anything he thinks is a similar experience.

That’s the mashal (though it’s a true story). Then, that same evening, I attended my first military funeral. Listening to the hespedim, I looked heavenward and spoke to Hashem. I usually address Hashem as “Ribon Olamim” or “Hashem” or “Avinu shebashamayim”. But I looked up and said, “Abba! We can’t do this anymore. We can’t go through more of these deaths. Abba! We can’t! We CAN’T!” Suddenly, I understood. I understood …

We are all Akiva. We are all Akiva! We are all on this cliff. We’re petrified. It’s scary! It’s difficult. We cannot go back. We cannot climb down, and we certainly cannot stay where we are. Whatever is necessary for us to do, we have to do. We have to keep struggling. We CAN do it. We ARE working towards a prize, a very big one. Our Father has promised it, and He will deliver.

National Trauma or Not

2006-08-18T08:58:00.000+03:00

A friend of mine posited recently that the response of some sector of the population to the occurrences of the summer of 5765 (2005) are out of proportion to the actual events. If I understood her correctly, she seemed to be saying this:

The Holocaust (and other events when Jews were murdered on a massive scale) was a national trauma because people were killed. The people of Gush Katif and the northern Shomron only had to move.

It’s true, she’ll agree, that this “only had to move” was traumatic for THEM. But, she says, it’s not traumatic for us as a nation because the people of Gush Katif and the northern Shomron are still alive. They weren’t killed. Let’s keep some proportion people!

She felt that comparison to the destructions of the Temples was also out of proportion. She told me that she was at a wedding last summer where the chatan (bridegroom) spoke about Gush Katif under the marriage canopy. I’m assuming it was at the point where we traditionally make a point of remembering that our joy cannot be complete, even at a wedding, because we no longer have a temple. This disturbed her. She felt it was inappropriate.

And also, in her opinion the majority of the nation simply was not traumatized, so you can’t call it a “national” trauma.

Her strong feelings on the subject aroused strong feelings in me to convince her that she is wrong.

Now please understand, I’m a person who tries to be agreeable. I often backtrack on my own statements to try and keep the comfort level in a good place. But I just cannot agree with her that the events of the summer of 5765 should not be traumatic to those not directly affected.

What is Trauma?
This is a gut thing. I believe that trauma is subjective. It’s a feeling. It’s an experience that differs from person to person, and in degree. We can see that even in the experience of the people who lost their homes last summer. I know one guy at work who used to live in Northern Gaza. He got resettled quickly. He’s working, he has a home. I don’t know about his kids, but he doesn’t seem unduly traumatized. At least from the outside, it just seems like a relocation. That can be tough (packing and unpacking can be nasty) but trauma? Don’t think so. Is he representative of most of the people? I also don’t think so. But I think there is a continuum.

What for me keeps me up tossing and turning at night might be completely unimportant to you. And I don’t think that anyone has the right or even the ability to say to another person, “Hey! You shouldn’t be upset about that! That’s not painful!” At best, one can help a person work through their pain. But you cannot deny the pain.

This is a weak argument in some ways because people DO have inappropriate reactions to events and sometimes have to learn to react appropriately. It’s often a matter of maturity. For a small child, for example, a popsicle that falls in the dirt is a world-shaking event at that moment. So perhaps she is correct in saying that people should be led to recognize that, yes, the expulsions (or disengagement, or whatever you want to call it) was a Bad Thing, but not such a bad thing.

So let’s look at some other aspects.

What are We Talking About Here
I think the first thing that she is missing, is that we are not talking about individuals here. We are talking about whole communities, and groups of communities. We are not talking about a city block where homes are being demolished to make way for a new bypass. Whole, healthy, vibrant, cohesive communities were destroyed. Some or all of these communities may manage to stay together and become healthy and viable once again. Only time will tell. But the bloc of communities that was Gush Katif is no more. The new communities simply will not have the same super-communal and inter-communal relationships. The beauty and uniqueness of the Gush Katif bloc is gone. That’s why the events of the summer of 5765 are more than “just a move”.

Other Expulsions in Jewish History
If we look at the litany of Bad Things that have happened to the Jews, we find them to be full of massacres. But there are other events that we carry with us as yes, national traumas. For example, the expulsion from Spain. The expulsion of Jews from Spain is a separate trauma, distinct from the Spanish Inquisition. It is mourned distinctly from the Inquisition.

For that matter, the focus of mourning of the first exile, after the destruction of the first Temple, is primarily on the exile and not on the war that preceded it. While there is no question that many many people died in the war and destruction at that time, when we look at the kinot, at the stories, at the documentation of that exile we see great emphasis on how terrible it was that the people had to leave the holy land.

Jews were expelled from England. Jews were expelled from countless places, sometimes more than once. Sometimes after a massacre, sometimes to avoid a massacre. But it is clear that the expulsion of a community of Jews from the place it called home were traumatic, and traumatic to ALL Jews, not just the people who “had to move”.

Nevertheless, these historical expulsions were ALL the Jews from a given location. In this case it was a small percentage of the population, so perhaps we still cannot call it a national trauma.

Majority rules?
OK. How can she know that a majority of the nation (or even the country) wasn’t traumatized? I don’t think that anyone who watched TV last summer was unmoved by the searing images in real time of what was going on. I think that the degree of trauma differs from person to person, but when faced with the events and the aftermath I think there is real pain from most people.

Furthermore, what does majority have to do with anything? Did the majority of Jews in the world cry out in pain and anguish when the news of what the Germans were doing began to trickle in? How many Jews didn’t know, or chose not to know? And that was when it was occurring. How many Jews alive today care or even know about the events of the 1930s and 40s? Is there a simple majority of Jews today who relate to the holocaust and are moved by it? I wonder.

Who against Whom?
Another aspect that makes the events of the summer of 5765 different, and traumatic, is the soldiers. When, in history, have Jews ever acted against Jews? This alone makes the forced removal of people from their homes traumatic. That Jewish soldiers, wearing the Star of David and Menorah, the symbols of the nation of Israel, came and physically removed people from their homes against their will, was a traumatic event! How many people said, “For this we created a Jewish state? For this we have an army? An army is supposed to be working against our enemies, not against ourselves!” The sheer numbers, the massive organization, the planning, the psychological preparation the soldiers received (which some would call brainwashing) created a machine.

And the machine, to a certain extent FAILED. Some of the most powerful images of last summer are of soldiers crying as they carried out their orders. Soldiers being comforted by the very people they were working against. And what is the state of the army today? How many suicides have there been (many)? How much post-traumatic stress disorder? It is clear that the army as an institution was shaken, and badly, by its participation in last summer’s events. This has a national impact. Further, how many young people cannot bring themselves to be part of the army? How many parents today are anguished by the choice that their children face, when it was obvious to them when they were young people?

There are Things Worse than Death
The main point that my friend makes is that no one was murdered. That there was no intention to obliterate the people of Gush Katif and the northern Shomron. First of all, murder does not have to mean physical death. Our sages teach that simply embarrassing someone in public is tantamount to murder! Furthermore, taking a person, forcing them to start over (but barely giving them the wherewithal to do that, or giving them nothing), taking everything familiar from them. Forcing them to go begging, forcing the public to support them. All of these acts are aggressive, even if they are not physically violent. Even the people who left “willingly” are STILL suffering today. The numbers are documented elsewhere, but the amount of mental illness among the young and the old, the physical illness that can be traced to stress, the people who simply cannot get it together, all of this is an open wound on Israeli society. This is a trauma because it is not over. We cannot ignore them and these people are not going away! Their pain is our pain because we are all responsible for one another. We rally around anyone in distress. Take, for example, the all-too-common family violence scenario where the father kills the mother (lo aleinu). Once the story goes public, and it becomes clear that the children are left with nothing and no one, people do step in. They send money, clothes, toys, food. It’s not a lasting national trauma (and in the long term often these kids are still left with nothing) but they are helped as long as the cameras are on them because the images are searing and we are pained by them. This is a form of trauma for us. That’s what motivates us to help.

And by the way, how much is the personal trauma of the refugees exacerbated because the very communities that gave them their strength, the strength to stare down thousands of mortars, rockets and shells over the years, these communities are in most cases not whole, and in some cases truly broken and fragmented.

Summary
The events of the summer of 5765 have far-reaching implications. We are still living the summer of 5765. We have been strongly impacted by the summer of 5765 and that fact implies deep feeling. The hurt is there, it’s strong, and it’s legitimate. To say that it was not a national trauma is to quibble about semantics. To say that the reaction of people is too strong, is out of proportion, is to deny the right of people to experience emotion and to deliberate hide from the lessons of history, and the implications for the future.

In sum, what I’d like to say to my friend is, while you might think that reactions are out of proportion, you’d better be confident that when the bulldozers come to knock down your home in Ma’aleh Adumim you will not look back and say, “I should have, I could have, I would have, if I had only known.” Because to relegate the trauma only to the people who lost everything is to repudiate “kol Yisrael areivim ze la’ze” and to open the door to a continuation of the trauma until it lands on our doorstep, and we join those who are clearly traumatized by it all.

One year later - my visit to the destroyed communities

2006-08-18T08:46:00.000+03:00

Last year I went down to the destroyed communities to look at the synagogues. Here's a link with photos of the synagogues before the destruction: http://www.israelnationalnews.com/news.php3?id=89643
I am still looking for a good link to photos of the gutted synagogues.

Here's what I wrote right after our trip:

Trip Summary
Gush Katif Settlements
25 August 2005
כ' במנחם אב תשס"ה

The Trip Down
We were four: Paula and Lazar Stern and ourselves. We were going down to Gush Katif ostensibly to see if any of the shul buildings slated for destruction could be saved and transplanted to our land in Ma’aleh Adumim. The Happy Minyan could have a home and we’d save a shul! By the time we left we already knew it wasn’t likely. The shuls that were relatively easy to move would in all likelihood be taken by their communities. But we went anyway. Why? To cry. To witness. Because we could go.

We left later than planned. Then we had to drop off our fax machine at the Jerusalem Gold hotel for use by the refugees there. This also took longer than planned. First only Gidon got out of the car. Before he came back, Paula saw Moshe Saperstein so she went to talk to him. I followed a minute later, with embarrassed apologies to Lazar for leaving him in the car alone. Moshe spoke off-handedly for a minute or two, and told us that Rachel was coming out. She came out, and we went to sit down at one of the several tables set up out in front of the hotel. She spoke eagerly about a message she wanted Paula to “get out”, how Sharon is normally so efficient, but the inefficiency of the Disengagement Authority can only be explained if it’s planned inefficiency. I asked about the experiences of the people who tried to cooperate and she said that there were a few people that she knew who were actually satisfied and had gotten their money, but most people had bad experiences with the DA. She went on, sharing stories. Then she asked Paula to get her a cup of water. Not only does Rachel have a broken ankle, but she has a rash on the same leg. The removable cast aggravates the rash, so she doesn’t wear the cast. She’s been stuck in her hotel room with her foot up, but she was feeling trapped, so she came out. She told me all this, and I mentioned to her that we live across the street from her son Ari, and that her granddaughter Doria is the same age as our daughter Elisheva. We made small talk until Paula returned (I think. Things are already starting to blur).

We finally got back in the car. On the trip down we talked about things we’d heard, we noticed all the “orange” cars. We stopped at a gas station – I don’t remember where – to use the toilet. We continued south. At one point we saw a big car (SUV) or maybe it was even a truck, and it had a BIG orange Chof Aza flag on it. We discussed where to go and decided to start with Netzarim.

Netzarim Road Block
It was a little complicated trying to figure out how to get to Netzarim. We ended up at the Karni crossing with lots of big trucks. Then someone explained where we went wrong and between that explanation, a map we saw and process of elimination, we got to the first road block before Netzarim. This was simply a barrier blocking the incoming lane, with three soldiers, two of whom were Ethiopian (as if that matters for something). The soldier in charge was polite but not overly friendly. He had a MIRS phone (a hybrid of a walkie-talkie and a cellular phone) and he read off to someone our identity numbers. We waited patiently, and Paula got out of the car to give them cold water. After a few minutes the verdict came back. Only Lazar had approval to cross, “And anyway you cannot drive to Netzarim in a private car.” OK. What now. Gidon phoned up Orit at the DA, who got to work on it. We waited some more. The soldier allowed other people to pass. We waited. We spoke with Orit again. She said that in fact only Lazar had gotten an ishur but she was trying for the rest of us. Suddenly the soldier decided to let us pass, telling us we’d have to park at the next place and somehow get to Netzarim. We took off. Just a mile or so down the road we came to a small base, and saw the private cars that had passed us earlier. We saw the line of people waiting to drive down to Netzarim, exchanged a few words with a guy in a truck. “I used to live here”. Then we realized that getting to Netzarim would involve LOTS of time, so we turned around and went back. Onwards to Kissufim Crossing.

Kissufim – Entering Gush Katif
We approached Kissufim, or what we thought was Kissufim. We saw the roadblock and the signs sent us off to the right. It was much like the toll barrier you sometimes see in the States in that there were several lanes, but the structures were clearly temporary. Our turn came. Out came the ID cards. At the same time, Gidon was talking with Orit, who said that the permission would come through “soon”. At first we stopped in the sun, but Paula asked the soldier if he would like it if we’d pull up into the shaded part. There were several boy and girl soldiers. One soldier was wearing a kippah and he also spoke to us (while our numbers were being checked in the computer). Paula felt that he seemed to need positive recognition from us, for us to tell him without words, “You’re OK. You’re not a bad person for being part of this.” Finally, we were given little slips of paper that constituted our “day pass”. We would have to present this pass with our ID cards at every checkpoint and at the entrance to every settlement.

As we pulled away from the “toll booth” we realized that this had NOT been the Kissufim crossing, but rather a preliminary checkpoint. At Kissufim they checked our passes and let us through.

We started down “Tzir Kissufim” the Kissufim passage. It seemed that some of the enormous concrete blocks that prevented snipers from shooting at cars were missing. Maybe we were just imagining it. We quickly arrived at our first stop, Kfar Darom. Kfar Darom saw some of the more active opposition during the expulsion. Young people and old barricaded themselves into the synagogue there. It was reported that soldiers were pelted with eggs and bottles. Besieged people on the roof poured liquid on the soldiers coming up on ladders. It has been reported that the material was acid, turpentine, oil and water. We may never know the real story – the media lies so much here.

Kfar Darom
Kfar Darom was shocking, because we didn’t know what to expect. Not only were some people packing up their homes in boxes, and putting the boxes and furniture into enormous metal shipping containers, some people were dismantling everything that could be removed! We saw people taking the terra cotta tiles off their roofs! Lots of people were everywhere, and soldiers too.

The shul was filthy. Before we even went in we saw how the doors had been pried open. We were stunned to see an enormous empty space where the aron kodesh had been, and all the benches were gone. The air conditioner was taken apart. This was to become a very familiar sight as we toured around. The floor was very dirty, upstairs and down. In this shul, unlike the buildings we would see later, there were still many items lying around. There was a bookcase in the main part, with some single pages and a whole tanach. A child’s hat. A tabletop shtender. Baseball caps with anti-disengagement mottos on them. On the balcony outside the ezrat nashim there were huge cans of … something. Probably olives or pickles. Tens of jerry cans of drink concentrate (“petel”), and lots of other food. I was already shaking my head at the waste I saw there. When we first walked in I decided I’d tear kriah. Then after I went back to the car to get my scissors I changed my mind. Gidon said he’d wait until he saw destroyed homes, so I decided to wait too. While we were upstairs a man asked Paula to take his picture while he tore kriah and said the blessing Baruch ata … dayan ha’emet. My “amen” was most heartfelt. He stood with his back to where the aron kodesh should have been. Heartrending.

I walked to a home near the shul. There were several children’s bikes on the ground. I said to myself, “These are people’s LIVES. How do you destroy people’s LIVES?” It seemed so surreal, so impossible.

I needed the bathroom. Of course the water in the shul was off. I was directed to a home that seemed to be in the midst of packing. Just the idea of walking into one of these homes made me very uncomfortable. I felt like a vulture, an interloper, unworthy. I was embarrassed. I made Gidon come with me. I noticed a sign on the door with the family name on it. How cute, I thought. Then I looked more carefully. The sign read something like: “Soldier. Policeman. In this home has lived the X family for Y years. Please do not knock on our door and evict us.” While I was waiting for Gidon to finish a woman came down the stairs. I asked her, “Is this your house?” “Yes.” I fumbling explained that we’d been told we could use the toilet. I didn’t know what to say to this woman. I felt liked I’d walked into a shiva house. It was awful. What could I saw to this woman? Nothing. Before we got in the car, I picked up a pine cone. I had some idea of taking something from each yishuv, but I didn’t feel comfortable with Paula’s idea of taking a piece of tile from each shul. So I took this pine cone. Finally we left. Next stop, Netzer Hazani.

Netzer Hazani
Netzer Hazani and Katif share a traffic circle. Between the two entrances there used to stand a small log building – a type of kiosk. It was a rest stop for soldiers in memory of a Netzer Hazani resident, Tali Hatuel Hy"d, who was murdered along with all her children (including her yet unborn baby) while driving through the Kissufim Passage. The children were shot at point-blank range, including the toddler strapped in her car seat. Somehow, this bereaved and bereft husband and father managed to go on with his life and even continue to love the soldiers who had not succeeded in protecting his family. The kiosk gave out drinks and snacks for free, and provided a place to sit and rest in the shade. When we got there, we saw that the building was gone. Probably it was simply lifted up and trucked out. The big sign that (presumably) said "Welcome to Netzer Hazani" was painted over to read "Techef nashuv" (we'll be right back).
Netzer Hazani promised to be VERY difficult for Paula, more than the rest of us. She knew people there, had been in their homes many times. Indeed, when we arrived we saw the bulldozer and steam shovels at work. We drove in a bit and got out of the car. It was shocking. Our first time that day seeing homes destroyed. Two young men near us were taking photos. One explained that they’d been in a house that had stood “over there” not long before. They’d spent 3 weeks there. The house had been “full of people, full of life”. Gidon, Lazar and I tore kriah. To see these piles of rubble …Again I though, “These are people’s LIVES!” How could it be? I found a piece of construction paper on the ground in the shape of a shirt. It said in Hebrew “Clothes. What clothes do we wear in Winter? In Summer? “ and lots of other questions – clearly something from a preschool (gan). Then I saw a paper girl. I picked her up and hung it on a board sticking up from the rubble. I continued walking. I imagined children running and playing. You could see that there were lovely gardens around the destroyed homes. I imagined toddlers walking and falling on the paths. Lazar appeared from another direction. We’d all struck out alone. He and I walked through a park. All the climbing equipment had been removed. There was an “Omega” lying on the ground. Two huge sand pits. I could imagine the children playing there. The part of the park nearest the remaining buildings was FULL of garbage. It seemed as if the soldiers ate their food and simply left the garbage on the ground – for a few days. I saw one or two small garbage bags (full) but mostly the stuff was all over. We saw this in other yishuvim as well.

As we continued through the park to the shul I saw a fence with a gate in it. It was clearly a back gate from a private garden, but the house is now just a pile of broken concrete and plasterboard. I could image the mother sending her children out to the park …

We went into the shul. Also in this shul almost everything had been removed, but there was some garbage and things. Two unopened bottles of grape juice, two bottles of wine. Tuna. Cases of matzot. I picked up the grape juice to take with me, but Lazar thought that people would be back to “finish” the shul, so I left it there. We didn’t stay too long. We called Paula and Gidon. Paula didn’t answer. Gidon’s phone was busy. We started back towards the car, and then we saw Gidon. Then we went back to the car the way we’d come. I wanted to pick up the things from the gan. As we approached the car we saw Paula talking with a soldier. The soldier wanted us to stay away from the rubble and move the car, “for our own safety”. He tried to be very gentle, but he was unhappy we were there … We drove closer to the shul and Paula went to see it. Gidon had gone in while we had gone back to the car and he came out with some papers and a pair of candlesticks. Paula and I decided to eat something. I felt so strange that I was hungry. How could we eat? Wasn’t it Tisha B’Av all over again? We didn’t want to use our drinking water to wash. The soldiers had left unfinished bottles of water all over. We took one and used the water to wash. I washed over some bushes. Paula didn’t. I asked her why didn’t she water the plants. “I want them to die.” I understood. Paula didn’t want the Arabs to enjoy these beautiful bushes surrounding the community buildings of Netzer Hazani. But in the next yishuv, Katif, we saw a truck brush against some bushes and Paula was upset. It was natural to be upset. How careless of the driver! But we wanted the bushes to die …

While we were in Netzer Hazani I looked for something to go with the Kfar Darom pine cone, but I couldn’t find anything. So I gave up the idea.

Gidon found a candlestick in one of the empty houses: a cheap candlestick with most of the silver worn off (if it ever even had real silverplate). He put it in my backpack. The men also ate sandwiches. We bentched, and left.

Katif
We drove round the traffic circle again. “We’ll be right back.” We drove into Katif after presenting our IDs. I think here, already, we only showed them Paula's and Lazar's, since they were sitting in the front seat. We drove on in and Gidon recalled how he had slept in Katif one night after attending a meeting in Neve Dekalim. He tried to recall which house. All the houses here were still standing. We saw lots of soldiers. We saw lots of spray paint on the houses. Some of it was symbols for the army – house numbers, what to knock down, what to leave up. But many families had spray painted "We'll be right back". One family had written something like: "Here lived the Ochayon family (along with the names of the parents and the 8 children) who were expelled from their home" The homes were beautiful with stone work, gardens, special shapes. Beautiful homes. Some of the homes had openings in the tile roofs. I wondered if the photo I saw on the Internet of women and children shouting at the soldiers from a hole in the roof was taken here.

Gidon couldn't remember where he stayed so we continued on to look for the shul. We found it with little trouble. Again – no benches, no woodwork, no aron kodesh. Whatever could be removed from the mechitza was gone. There were a couple of workers in the shul. One guy was lying on his back where the bima used to be. Paula was distressed at what she felt was not respectful behavior and told them so. In the meantime a few other men arrived. They were apparently the ones who were dismantling the air conditioning system. The shul had a large room that was apparently a library and classroom. The table was still there. The rest of the shul was empty, though there were two plastic washing cups in the sinks outside. One cup had a sticker on it saying that the cup was placed in memory of Avraham Ochayon who passed away on 11 Shevat 5764, and that the mitzvoth performed with the washing cup should be for his benefit. (This all sounds so dumb in English, but profound in Hebrew.) I, who couldn't take a can of tuna or a bottle of grape juice in Netzer Hazani, took the washing cup. As far as we understood at that moment, the Supreme Court had ruled that the synagogues would be destroyed. I didn't want this cup to be lost. So many more mitzvot could be performed with it!

We got back in the car and drove on to the Yeshiva High School in Katif. It has its own compound, surrounded by a fence. All the buildings are moveable, even the "security rooms" which are reinforced concrete. They can be picked up with a crane and put on a truck. Apparently some of the buildings had once had decorative tile roofs, because it looked like the roofs had exploded. The supporting metal beams were all twisted, and the tiles were gone. Maybe that was somewhere else – I'm remembering it as being in Katif. We got out of the car again and went to look around. It was easy to spot the Beit Midrash. The aron kodesh was still there, empty, plus a few benches. Lazar and Gidon were discussing the size of the building – could it be big enough for our shul? Could it be moved? We went to look at other buildings. Could we save more than the beit midrash? Gidon made some calls. Someone from the Prime Minister's office said that he was on his way. We met an officer, an Army Chaplain. He told us how upset he was at how many holy books had been left behind in various places. Indeed, in a room off the beit midrash there were a few shelves of books, as well as a pile of clothes. Lost and found? Everywhere, there was food, especially outside. Whole cucumbers. A broken watermelon. Cans. Papers. At one place I noticed pieces from a Stratego set. I almost picked them up for Akiva, but it was only a few pieces. I found a big beautiful poster with a scene depicting animals in Tanach. I tried to take it down, but it was well-attached to the wall. And did I have the right to take it? After all, there were people coming to finish packing here.

Was the yeshiva evacuated by force? Was it a center of (passive) resistance? Were the people who left this mess from the yeshiva at all, or another group that just "holed up" there? Was it soldiers who left the mess? I don't know. I don't have answers. Paula thought that part of the beit midrash looked as if the door had been forced. Dunno. We spent a lot of time at the yeshiva because we were talking with the officer, the representative from the PM's office, the people who suddenly showed up and after a while started moving the furniture out of the beit midrash. It became clear that somehow this beit midrash wasn't on anyone's list. Why? Dunno. We got all the contact numbers and we left.

Ganei Tal
Just down the road from Katif is Ganei Tal. In Ganei Tal they were done destroying buildings, or almost done. I think it was as we entered Ganei Tal that we saw trucks hauling away caravan buildings like the ones we wanted from the Yeshiva in Katif. We drove in and we saw lots and lots of rubble. Just rubble. No wait! We saw a building marked “not for destruction”. Why? We couldn’t tell. A bit later we came upon a few plastic chairs, a stroller, an Israeli flag, and maybe some other stuff. Surely people would be back for these things. We didn't get out of the car, at first. We just drove around. We saw a preschool that was still whole, and perhaps hadn’t yet been packed up. Finally we came to a dead end next to an imposing building that we thought was the shul. It wasn't. It was a community building, a youth club, built with money from the Mifal HaPayis lottery. There were soldiers just hanging out there. Once we got out of the car we could see the shul, so walked over. This shul was immaculate. And the impression I got was mass. The shul was not enormous, but it was massive. It was clear they'd taken everything. I thought that there had been glass in the mechitza, though later I found out it was metalwork. There were a few screws and metal shavings left, but everything else was neat and clear. Everything was gone, except we got upstairs we found a fridge! We found a draw full of disposable dishes. Under the stairs there was a closet of cleaning supplies…

Everything ready for when the people come back.

We left Ganei Tal.

The Cemetery
As we cruised on, trying to decide where to go next, we came to the cemetery. We saw that the electrified (!) fence was open, so we stopped and went in. There are 48 graves in this cemetery and I saw them all. I'm not going to be able to list all the graves, but I stopped at each one. I left a stone or a shell on each. I saw the military section. I saw the little graves of the children. I saw graves of grandparents. People killed in terror attacks, people who died of old age, people who died after illness. I saw the grave of the Hileberg boy, who was killed in Lebanon and who loved the sea. Next to his grave is a bucket of sea shells. On one grave there was a wedding invitation for August 24th. I was the last one out of the cemetery. Paula was talking with an officer there. They were replacing the old, torn Israeli flags with new ones. I'm still undecided if I think that was the right thing to do. Paula felt it was disrespectful and that the families would be upset to see it. I just don't know.

Shirat Hayam and Kfar Yam
We drove on a bit and then turned right to go down to the sea. We arrived at the gate of Shirat Hayam, but for some reason we didn't go in. Not that there was much to see. Most of the caravans were gone. There was a lot of mess. We continued on the road outside the fence and then drove past Kfar Yam. We were getting a bit nervous because we saw only cars with PA plates or kids on bikes, or donkey-drawn wagons. No "friendlies". The road was just dirt for a while, then it turned back to asphalt. Soon after that we were able to turn left.

Slav/Shalev
When we got back to the main road (from which we'd turned right to go to Shirat Hayam) we went on South to Slav. The soldiers here did not seem too eager to let us in. We told them we wanted to see the synagogue, and they told us it was already gone. One of the boys was from Ma'aleh Adumim, and the other boy decided to let us in, but asked us to leave our car inside the gate. In retrospect, I guess they were worried about looters. We walked up to try to guess where the shul had been. When we found a brick patio surrounding a dirt-filled spaced, we decided that was it. Lazar was interested in seeing how a caravan building needed to be supported. What preparations would we need to make for "our" building? Another soldier came up to see what we were doing there. I asked him where he was from and he answered so militarily: "405th. Officer's training course." (maybe he said a different number) What he really said was "course Ma"kim". Makim are Mefakdei Kitah. I don't know how many soldiers are in a Kita, but a Mifaked Kita is the lowest officer level in the command pyramid, coming just above regular soldiers. This young man was a paratrooper – complete with the red beret and red boots. Our boy from Ma'aleh Adumim was in Golani – infantry. The paratrooper told us that they would be taking everything before they left, including the electrical poles. The homes that remained could all be moved by crane and truck. If the people didn't come to take them by Sunday they'd be destroyed. Paula carefully removed a beautiful flower from the shul garden, somewhere found a pot, and took it with her.

Rafiah Yam
We went on to Rafiah Yam. We got a little lost, but not very. We came to an army encampment and quickly turned around at got reoriented. At Rafiah Yam we saw the only girl soldiers. Two girls were guarding the gate, but there were no soldiers inside that we could see. Rubble, a few plastic chairs, some big crates that grocery stores use for deliveries, what seemed to be a public underground bomb shelter, one unfinished house, and a playground were all that remained of Rafiah Yam. Apparently either there was no shul, the shul was in the bomb shelter, or the building had been removed. We didn't get out of the car, and we didn't stay long.

Morag
At the gate to Morag the soldier didn't want to let us in. He was new, he said, and didn't want trouble. We made a couple of calls, and he finally decided to let us in "for five minutes." Needless to say we stayed much longer than that. We drove up a hill to a traffic circle with what seemed to be a destroyed sculpture in the center. Then we saw the security fence separating Morag from Rafiah. The residents had painted the history of the Jews from creation to the 3rd temple on the huge concrete fence. We continued on, just trying to find the shul. Since the homes are rubble, it was easy to see the tall shul building. We saw a few other buildings still standing, but there were many many soldiers there and they seemed to be using the buildings still. The shul was empty like the others, and I didn't even have the strength to go up the stairs to see what was there. Then we noticed that there were marbles all over the floor. Paula and I started picking up these marbles like we were crazy. And the shul was not so clean. The marbles were filthy. I left the ones that were embedded in a swathe of peanut butter on the floor. Then we noticed a couple of bags of geniza on the floor. Gidon tried to find someone to take responsibility for them. A soldier came by and it turned out that the Sterns knew him or his brother or something … As we left Morag we gave a soldier a ride until we turned off the main road. We honked to keep a car from turning right, so they waited for him. He was going to Kissufim.

Atzmona
Just outside the Atzmona gate there is a school and we saw people packing it up. I thought we'd be there a while, so I washed to eat my other sandwich. Then they told us that there would be Mincha in the Atzmona shul in 15 minutes. So we got back in the car and drove into Atzmona. The soldier who looked at our identity cards was the first one to react to Gidon’s orange card holder. The plastic case given out by the Interior Ministry is blue, but Akiva bought an orange one for Gidon when they were at the protest in Ofakim. The soldier really liked the orange case, and wanted one himself.

We drove around the yishuv. I was bentching so I missed some things, but I noticed a house with a big hole in the side. To make taking things out easier? We got to the nurseries which are HUGE and it was clear that many of the plants would simply not be saved. We drove up to Kerem Atzmona, but that was already rubble and it was getting close to Mincha so we hurried back. We didn't have to hurry. The shul, despite being empty, despite the floor being full of broken glass, was a minyan factory. There were so many people in Atzmona that a new minyan would start as soon as the last ended. I had two siddurim with me, so I gave one to Lazar. Then I gave the other to Paula. So I waited until she finished and looked around this HUGE shul. I went out to one of the balconies off the ezrat nashim and looked out over Atzmona. I tried to image it without all the red roofs, but I couldn't. When I finally davened Mincha (and Gidon was the chazzan), it was one of the best davenings of my entire life. Every paragraph seemed to leap out at me with meaning, but especially the paragraph about the tzaddikim.

We saw our neighbor's son (Hillel Shor) in Atzmona. We saw lots of volunteers. Everyone was busy with something. We finally left there, and moved on. It was getting late. Go straight to Neve Dekalim, or see other places? Once darkness fell it would be difficult to see anything because the electricity was cut off in most places. Gidon asked that we see other places, because he had never been to them.

Bdolach
I think Bdolach was the place with the unfinished shul. We drove around a bit trying to see if we could guess which building was the temporary shul, but we gave up.

Gdid
At Gdid the soldiers (not religious) at the gate told us to take as long as we like, expressed their dismay at what was happening, and blessed us. We didn't know at first if we were in Gdid, or in Gan Or. We drove in and saw two big buildings. Which was the shul? What was the other one? I barely peeked in the first building – the shul. I was getting burned out. It was dark, getting very hard to see inside these shells of buildings. I went to the dismantled play area outside the shul and imagined my children there. Then I went to the other building. Behind it, between the two buildings, was a big stone sign: Gan Gdid. OK. We're probably in Gdid. It was a simcha hall. A simcha hall – what a joke. Between the shul and the hall was also a beautiful garden area. The area was paved, but with big trees planted in rectangular sections surrounded by stone walls. For some reason, some branches from some of the trees had been knocked down. We don't know why. I picked up some seed pods from the ground to go with my Kfar Darom pine cone. Then we left.

Gan Or
We almost skipped Gan Or. After all, it was night now. But we went. We could hear heavy machinery moving around when we came to the shul. It was too dark to see inside. Paula's camera can take good pictures even in the dark, but I was too nervous to go to the downstairs in the dark, or do much. I was using my phone light to see a little. I went out. I felt so awful that we'd never visited this place. I told Gidon that we need to set aside one Shabbat a month to go SOMEWHERE in Eretz Yisrael. How could it be that these beautiful yishuvim existed and we never visited them? And now we can't. It's AWFUL.

Neve Dekalim
We left Gan Or and drove straight to Neve Dekalim. After everything we'd seen that day, Neve Dekalim was shocking, not because it was dead, but because it wasn't. We drove straight to the big shul. I'd been to Neve Dekalim twice before. It was familiar to me. I tried to see if I could tell if the zoo was empty, but I couldn't. We saw the usual trailer trucks and containers on the ground by some homes, but Neve Dekalim is so big it just didn't seem as overwhelming as in Atzmona or Kfar Darom. Many or even most homes just seemed normal.

We got to the shul. The big Ashkenazi shul was dark, but it was "whole". All the furnishings were there. I could make out siddurim on the shtenders on the backs of the seats. It was too dark to see the aron kodesh, but I'm sure it was there. There were lights in the Sefardi shul. Lazar and Gidon went there for Ma'ariv. We talked to people there. I spoke with a guy who was down as a volunteer to help people pack. Another young man was there illegally – doing whatever. A third man explained that he'd never been removed from his home. They'd knocked and he'd asked them to come back later. They never came back. The men came back from Ma'ariv and we all talked some more. I went and looked in the Sefardi shul. There was no sign of the events of the previous week. It just looked like a shul. Clean, beautiful. In use. I couldn't imagine it any other way. Then an army officer came and told us to come down to the street, that there was hot food there. Sure enough, a truck parked in the street and two men were handing out meals from the back. No one asked any questions. The "illegal" guy told us that they feed everyone. No one has to hide from the army.

I looked around at Neve Dekalim. It's so beautiful, so alive. The shuls, so complete. Even after a whole day of viewing ruins, I could not picture Neve Dekalim in ruins.

We drove to Rachel and Moshe Saperstein's house. We passed the park that we had spent time in when we came for Shabbat only two months before. I remembered how Moriyah was just starting to walk well. We had bought her sandals that Friday before we went down. Gidon put her on the swings there and she loved it. We passed the unfinished building that Akiva, Chayim Zvi and Gidon had visited. We got to the Saperstein’s and parked across the street. We looked at this beautiful little house. There's a gazebo in the yard, with a tile roof. There were soldiers there. One came over to us and almost pleaded to be allowed to go into the house and pack it up. It was locked. We explained that the owners were not likely to come down and pack it up themselves. So the soldier asked us to let the owners know that he and his friends would do it. Paula said that she'd tell Rachel. We drove around to see as much of the house as possible. The house is surrounded by beautiful trees. They'll have to knock down the trees to knock down the house …

We left Neve Dekalim after 9 pm. We were supposed to have been back at Kissufim by 9, but this was Paula's little rebellion. We passed Kissufim at 9:30. Then we drove home. I was so tired I could not keep my eyes open. How Paula managed the drive, I'll never know. We got home after midnight.

I still can't believe it's gone, or will be soon. I can't believe it.

Postscript - October 2005
If you want to know the fate of “our” beit midrash, read Paula’s article at:
http://tinyurl.com/cggzg

16 August 2006

2006-08-16T22:40:00.000+03:00

OK. So. It all started a (civil) year ago today. The expulsion from Gush Katif. I'm still recovering from that. But after the expulsions I went down with my husband and friends and we drove all around Gush Katif, looking at the destruction and at the gutted shuls that were to be left standing. I wrote pages and pages after that day, and sent it out to a few people. I hope I figure out how to post it here. But since them I've often felt the need to express myself in writing. And not just about the political issues. I think a lot about the many challenges in my life, and I'd like to write about them. If other people want to read what I write, and if it helps them, great!