Blogging, Israel Style

So we took the car to the mechanic to have our oil changed, and although the owner of the garage told us that we could go and have lunch and come back, and that we'd be next on the lift, we figured it would be smarter to stay and wait ourselves. Smart move.

In any case, what do you do while you're waiting for your oil change? In the States I'd be at Jiffy Lube and would wait in the nice little waiting room with that day's newspaper and fresh coffee. Not here.

Here, we're waiting in the office. But when the owner's wife left, she told us to sit at her desk. Can I check my email? Sure. I didn't bother to ask her whether I could blog - but why not? We're all family.

Celebrating One Year in Israel

This past Shabbat, we celebrated our one-year anniversary of our aliyah. I made a siyyum on seder Nashim of Mishnah, and we invited some friends from the yishuv to join us after seudah shlishit. We really didn't feel like making a whole meal, and a dessert seemed doable. It was a wonderful, low-key event. Also, we were fortunate that our good friends the Sobols of Modiin joined us for Shabbat. We sat around, sang a couple of songs. I spoke about how grateful we felt that we had merited to spend a year living in the Holy Land, noting the great difference between Jewish life in the Diaspora and in America. (I likened Jewish life in America to being born underwater with an air-tank, and never realizing that there was something called "dry land.") Then Rav Sobol said some nice things about us, and that was it.
It's hard to believe that a year has gone by. It seems to have passed so quickly. And I continue to be thankful that we have had such a smooth and successful year, and pray that we continue to grow and acclimate in our new home and lives.
This week, Rena and I attended the Tzohar International Rabbinic Conference in Yerushalayim, which gather rabbis from Israel, the United States, and a couple of other countries. I guess I'm still an Oleh, because I got a rush from the fact that my name tag for the conference said my name, and under it: ישראל. I'm from here now. I'm not one of the rabbis looking at the Olim wishing that my tag said "Israel". I did that already. Thank God, now I'm on the other side, and giving thanks for that fact each and every day.

"Ding Dong, the Fish is Dead" and "פינת הקוביות" (the blocks corner)

Poor, poor Petachya. He came downstairs this morning to find an empty vase. "What happened to Dorothy?" he asked, with fear in his eyes. Abba cleared up the mystery, saying that he found her floating dead on the top of the vase when he came down this morning and had to flush her down the toilet. Bye, bye Dorothy.

In other news, Petachya informed me today that he only takes off his shoes in school in the פינת הקוביות, the blocks corner. Why there? "Because we build the Beit Hamikdash, and you don't wear shoes in the Beit Hamikdash!"

Need I say more?

What's going on

Yesterday was pretty exciting. Petachya's been learning about fish this week in camp, and yesterday he brought home - you guessed it! - a live fish! For some reason, the kids in the other groups got magnet fish. Petachya says his is real because it was the assistant's birthday (connection?). I tried to trade with parents of some of the other groups, but it didn't work. So, we now have a new member of the family sitting in a Gladware container on our counter. Her name is Dorothy, like Elmo's fish.

Anyway, Bezalel and Leah are really enjoying camp. Last night was especially fun. They went to an amusement park at night! They left here at 5 and came home at 11. I was impressed because it was exactly when they said they would come home. At about 10:30, I called Leah's counselor to see if they were running on time, and heard many screaming and chattering girls in the background. Wow - I'm glad those days are behind me. They had a great time :)

My Amazing Children

I don't often say this to other people, but today I must: My children are amazing. Yesterday was the last day of school. It is incredible to me that they have gone through and entire year, where every day they woke up and put themselves into an entirely Hebrew environment. Though they occasionally came home and said, "I'm not going to school tomorrow", they almost always (except once, which is a pretty good track record, I think) got up the next morning and went. No kicking and screaming; no crying, moaning, etc. Happy, smiley faces ready to face the day. All of them. Truly amazing. Even Bezalel with his hearing impairment. Wow! Okay, Petachya cried when I dropped him off at gan for the first 4 months, but that's totally age appropriate - he might have done that in the US also. I, on the other hand, put off doing many mundane tasks (Dentist appointments, driver's license transfer, etc.) that involved interacting in Hebrew. Not that my Hebrew isn't good - it is. It's just hard to explain, I guess, why normally routine tasks seem overwhelming.

Anyway, that's why I think my kids are amazing.

Graduation Day turns into Night

Okay, I'm back. After a 4 month hiatus or so, I've decided to take up blogging again. Here's how it works. I write stuff that happens to us, and you write comments so I know you're reading it. Otherwise, I could just write a diary and then you'd just miss out on all the fun, exciting things that are happening to us over here. I'm going to also try to be better about posting pictures, but not tonight. It's 11:19, and I'm exhausted, because we just got back from a 3-hour (yes, you read that right) graduation from 6th grade. Simcha's smiling comment at 10:45pm: "I'm just glad it's over." Did I mention that he used most of the graduation time very efficiently - to wiggle out a loose tooth that had been bothering him. Leah was disappointed for him when he decided to just throw it in the garbage - "Doesn't he want money for it?" She was even more disappointed when I told her you only get money for the first 3 teeth - "But I already lost four! And I know you're the real tooth fairy, anyway." But, I digress.

Can't believe Simcha graduated. Really can't believe that my amazing children just finished (or almost finished - 4 hours to go) an entire year of sitting in classrooms and playing on playgrounds with Hebrew being the most-heard language. A truly incredible feat. Simcha even introduced the Mayor of our Regional Council in perfect Hebrew with an Israeli accent! Leah understood the play the boys put on! Petachya enjoyed watching the whole thing perched upon 4 nested chairs so he could see. Poor Bezalel was home with a case of too-little-drinking-on-a-hot-day-when-Ima- told-him-to-bring-a-waterbottle-to-school-but-he-didn't-feel-it-tummyache.

Since we rushed out the house at 7:10 (the program was called for 7, and I was convinced I would miss Simcha's intro, which I thought would start at 7:15, but didn't start until 7:35), I still have supper dishes waiting. Gotta go soak them.

Layla tov. Next time I think I will go to the graduation planning meeting and do what I can to cut the program by 2/3, which would make it managable :)

Picture the Following Scene

A woman stands by the side of the road, her arm outstretched, hoping that a passing motorist will stop and give her a lift. Standing a few feet away are the other members of her party: both young, male. One holds a load sub-machine gun.
Do you pick them up?

In America: Are you nuts?
In Israel: Hi, where are you headed.

Ulpan Spolter 2

Here's a really popular phrase that's hard to use right:
חבל על הזמן (chaval al ha-zman)

1. Taken literally, it means "it's not worth the time", i.e. "it's a waste of time"
Usage: "Don't go to Rami Levi (local supermarket) on Thursday night. Chaval al hazeman. Go during the day when it's not such a madhouse."
2. (Exactly the opposite of the first meaning) Slang for: Incredible! Amazing!
Usage: "I was at the Aharon Razel concert last night - chaval al hazman!"

So, if you ask your friend how the shiur that she went to was and she tells you, "Chaval al hazman, make sure you're looking at her, because it could either mean, "It was literally a waste of time" or it could also mean, "It was an amazing shiur!"

Confused? Welcome to Israel.

Eliran

Mar 28, 2001 - Eliran Rosenberg-Zayat, 15, of Givat Shmuel and Naftali Lanzkorn, 13, of Petah Tikva were killed in a suicide bombing at the Mifgash Hashalom ("peace stop") gas station several hundred meters from an IDF roadblock near the entrance to Kalkilya, east of Kfar Saba. Four people were injured. Hamas claimed responsibility for the attack.

The above quote is from the "Victims of Palestinian Terror Since September 2000" section on the website of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Israel. The Zayat family lives two doors down from us, so last night we went to their house for Eliran's yahrzeit. Two of his sisters, Shiran (age 13) and Noga (age 8) gave a stirring presentation about God's will. We do not have to thank God for doing something that is painful to us, but He definitely has his reasons, which we cannot understand. That was their message. Rav Hadaya, the Rav of our yishuv, gave a shiur, before and after which Refael Zayat (Eliran's father) said kaddish. A fitting and appropriate way to raise the neshama of their son.

I have come to know the Zayat family somewhat because they have a son, Ziv, in Bezalel's class. Ziv has a cochlear implant and wears a hearing aid, and he and Bezalel get along very well. Michal (the mother) is soft spoken and sensitive to others. She has even offered to make phone calls for me to the necessary services if I find the Hebrew too overwhelming. Every week she hosts a shiur in her house for women given by Rav Hadaya to enhance our spirituality. Shirin ran a camp this past summer, which Leah attended and loved. Hila (age 15) regularly babysits for my neighbor when she works in the afternoon. We had no idea about Eliran. The Zayat family does not walk around depressed or shrouded in mourning. They are a vibrant part of our growing community.

We sat with Refael and Michal at a recent wedding, and they asked us how old Ruby was when his father died. Ziv, they said, is obsessed with death, and asked Bezalel if he ever had anyone close to him die. Bezalel said that his Zaide died when his Abba was nine, information which Ziv then passed on to his parents. Death is a part of their life, said Michal, and they then told us about Eliran. Ziv does not know quite how to deal with the brother he never knew.

This morning I asked Bezalel if Ziv ever talks about death with him. Bezalel said that they don't talk about those things, and so I told him that Michal told me about the question Ziv asked him. Oh yes, said Bezalel, and I told him that Zaide died and he told me that his brother died when he was 20 as a soldier in the army - Arabs killed him.

I feel blessed that I can still shelter him from the cold, horrible truth. I pray to God to continue to support the Zayat family for the sacrifice they have made.

A Normal, Everyday Occurance

Today, I needed to travel into a major city for a conference. Rena came along. When I got there, the conference manager asked me whether we had eaten lunch yet. We had not. So he (graciously) gave us vouchers and told us to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant, which we did.
We went downstairs and found ourselves plates and took food. Really good, tasty food. Fish, salads, desert - all at a wonderful buffet.
Sitting at a table, eating my lunch I realized that if I had been in America, where would I have been able to have precisely the same experience: eating on real plates, in the main cafeteria of a major hotel at a normal conference?
Answer: nowhere else in the world.
Except in Israel.

I Married a Rebbetzin. Still.

For a number of weeks, we've had a good number of guests for Shabbat. This is great, as we love guests, but it can also get somewhat overwhelming. After two weeks where we had seven students from Midreshet Moriah, and a lunch with fifteen people, both Rena and I decided that we needed a break. So last Shabbat, we didn't have any guests. It was a real, nice, quiet family Shabbat.
And then, on Motzei Shabbat Rena approached me wondering who we should have for Shabbat next week: should it be this family or that? After considering inviting different Shabbat guests, I turned back to Rena and said, "You know, we don't have to invite anyone next Shabbat at all."
Rena looked perplexed.

A little background: When we lived in Michigan, we considered hosting people at our house for Shabbat part of our roles as rabbi and rebbetzin. We loved hosting guests, and found it a wonderful way to learn about members of the shul and community in a personal and intimate way. For this reason, we never really had very large meals of three or four families, and set our limit at two other families. Every so often, we would just be tired, and need a break. So, after four or five weeks in a row of having guests for Shabbat, we'd take a week off and have a quiet Shabbat. But then, the next week, we'd get right back to work and invite another round of guests.

(Back to the present) Rena says to me, genuinely puzzled, "What do you mean we don't have to have guests?" And then it dawns on her. She's not the rebbetzin here. I'm not the rabbi here. (note the order). We don't have to do anything, and if we want to take two or three or five weeks in a row "off", we're free to act as we please.
Not that Rena could stand to go so long without guests.
As I always told people, she didn't marry a rabbi. I married a rebbetzin.

Ulpan Spolter

Introducing a new feature teaching you Hebrew words and phrases that I find interesting:
לסמס - lesames - to send a text message, (or SMS)
Explanation: Listening to the radio this morning, and the host was talking about a fund to raise awareness about a certain muscular illness. She said that to donate you can lesames - send an SMS message - to a certain phone number to donate money.
Usage: אני אסמס אותך - ani asames otechah - "I will text message you."

It's a Jewish country, all right

Where else would garbage pick-up day be late Saturday night/early Sunday morning?

Voting

Today I voted in the national elections for the 18th Knesset in Israel. Initially I was very torn. The religious parties feel that they should impose certain rules on the general public about keeping a Torah observant atmosphere. For example, they believe that in certain urban areas, all businesses should be closed on Shabbat. This is an idea I was uncomfortable with. I felt leary about forcing my own ideas on someone else. Do I think Shabbat observance is essential for every Jew? Of course. However, I did not think that I should impose that observance on every Jew, even against his or her will.



And then Ruby and I started talking. "Doesn't the Torah promote enforcing Shabbat observance for all Jews?" he asked. I conceded the point, but continued to say that that is in the ideal Torah world, within which we do not live. "How are we going to reach the ideal if we don't start promoting Torah values now? Should we just wait for Moshiach to come and then he will promote those values? Should we just sit back and wait?" I then realized that it is in our own hands to bring about the ideal Torah society. Just like our family did not wait to be borne on eagles' wings to the Promised Land, we should not wait to create a religious atmosphere in the Jewish Holy Land. The Jewish nation is one based on a set of Torah values. I do not believe in the concept of a secular Jewish state. So, I voted for one of the religious parties (there are 4 running).



I'm still to American to publicize which one I voted for, though. (Israelis are not private about it.)



I'm also American enough and a strong enough believer in the democratic process that when we went with the kids to pizza this afternoon (still searching for edible pizza in the YB area), I convinced the woman behind the counter to go vote. She wasn't planning to vote, because she didn't like any of the candidates for prime minister. Once I explained to her that you vote for political parties, not leaders, she decided that she would do that.



Grandpa and Savta are proud.

Tu B'Shvat

Today is Tu B'Shvat, the official "birthday" of the trees. In America, we didn't really do anything for it aside from the PTA handing out bags of dried fruit and "buksar" (carob) to the kids in school. That was until a few years ago, when the Kollel Torah MiZion in Detroit started doing a Seder Tu B'Shvat for women, which was very nice. We sat around a table, ate the different fruits from the 7 species (and other fruits as well), read relevant passages and sang relevant songs. Like I said - very nice. Then we moved to Israel.

We live in what could best be described as a cul-de-sac. The addresses are all Slav 32, with the first 8 letters of the Hebrew alphabet. For example, we are 32a, the neighbors we share a building with are 32b, and our neighbors directly across from us are 32g and h. Eight houses (four buildings - each is a side-by-side two family house) surround a common parking area. This is so great because not only do the kids have a place to play, but they also have other kids to play with. So, on any given afternoon starting around 4pm, the parking area is crawling with kids.

Last night we had a Slav 32 Seder Tu B'Shvat. It was really fun. We started with going through the seven species and other foods, trying to cover as many brachot as we could. Then we brought out supper - falafel, of course. Everyone brought something. It was really amazing. Each family also brought out a folding table, which we arranged as one long table and covered with a cloth. The kids sang, ate, and played, and the adults ate and talked. It was a very heartwarming experience to spend with our neighbors.

Tu B'Shvat Sameach!

Hashem Loves Us

Bubby is visiting! Yay! So today, we took the kids out of school to go on a tour of Ir David, the ancient site of the original city of Jerusalem. Petachya called it a "Bubby Day". It was very cool. Our extremely knowledgeable tour guide, Asher Altshul, showed us remains from as far back as the time of Avraham Avinu. We saw the tunnel Chizkiyahu dug, the site where Shlomo was probably annointed, and many other amazing things. However, the part I want to share with you happened this morning, on the way to Yerushalayim.

Ruby (as usual) turned on the news. After one of the reports, I asked him what was going on. In quick Hebrew (we can still use that in front of Leah, who was sitting next to me), he told me that a rocket had landed between two kindergartens in the Eshkol region, but that they had not exploded. Leah asked me: "What did Abba just say?" I answered: "That Hashem loves us."

So true.

A Spiritual Shopping Experience

What would you expect to hear over the public address system at your local supermarket?
a. Cleanup on aisle five
b. Attention shoppers! We're happy to offer a special today on watermelons!
c. Ma'ariv will take place in the Beit Knesset behind the vegetables immediately
This evening, shopping for Shabbat, I heard "c". It was so cool that I dropped everything and went. And there actually was a little shul in the back of Rami Levi. And a bunch of men showed up, including some of the store stockboys, a soldier, and a bunch of shoppers - and we davened ma'ariv.
That never happened to me in America.

The war is old news, but I just want to draw your attention to . . .

Today, when talking to my father on the phone, he told me about an initiative spearheaded in the US by National Council of Young Israel in which anyone who wanted to could get the name of a soldier to daven for. I told him that I was davening for a speedy and complete recovery for Aharon Karov, the officer who missed his Shabbat Chatan and his Shabbat Sheva Brachot (he came back in between for his wedding) to be at the front with his unit. He, along with several others, was seriously wounded when he entered a rigged house. My father commented on the fact that there is a halachah which says that the groom may not go out into war during his first year of marriage. This only applies to a war of expansion. However, for a war which defends the borders of Eretz Yisrael, even a groom leaves his new home. I would like to share with you a partial (weak - sorry!) translation of an article written in last week's Basheva newspaper, in which Aharon's father, a rosh yeshiva in Karnei Shomron, comments:

In the weekly bulletin, "Rosh Yehudi", Rav Karov publicized an article which wove the major issue in with the private situation. "My ears have heard many expressions of surprise, even anger, over the fact that the groom left the bride. Can we not get along without him? Is there not still a mitzvah to make his wife happy?" He explains further: "Chachamim teach us God's Torah. They do not look at reality from a limited personal perspective. Neither human intelligence nor ever-changing emotions dictate the order of life and its values, rather the Divine ethic. The Chachamim teach us a great, yet simple lesson - the building of our personal and married lives draws its sustenance only from its connection to the larger community. . . It only has significance because it is part of the holiness of the Jewish nation . . ."

Yet another reason we came. I have always felt that we are part of a greater whole that is more important than us as individuals. Now I understand that the strength and power of us as individuals stems from the fact that we are part of a greater whole.

Driving on the Highway

Just thought I'd share my experiences driving on the highway this week. We live along a major east-west highway called Route 3. It is the highway one would take from Jerusalem to Ashdod/Ashkelon/Gaza, and from those points back to army bases across the country. See where I'm headed?

Monday - Driving eastbound (from Jerusalem to Yad Binyamin): Three or four flat-bed trucks carrying about 10 or 12 white and orange vans, each with the word "Ambulance" written on the side in English and Arabic only - no Hebrew.

Tuesday - Driving westbound (from Kiryat Malachi to Yad Binyamin): Three flat-bed trucks carrying humongous green tanks with a small letter "tzadi" on the bottom. That stands for Tzahal, the Hebrew acronym for the IDF.

What kind of nation provides medical aid before pulling an army out of a war zone?

Ours.

A Fly in Your Coffee

We got this email from a neighbor in Yad Binyamin in Hebrew, and it's too true not to translate.

What happens when a fly falls into a cup of coffee?
An Englishman: spills out the coffee
An American: Removes the fly and drinks the coffee
A Chinese: Eats the fly and spills out the coffee
A Japanese: Drinks the coffee with the fly, as the fly came for free
An Israeli: Sells the coffee to an American, the fly to a Chinaman, and buys himself a new cup of coffee
A Palestinian: Blames the Israeli for the terrible violence perpetrated against in through the fly he put in his coffee. Requests aid from the United Nations, takes a loan from the European Union to buy a new cup of coffee, and uses the money to buy explosives. Then he blows up the coffeehouse where the American, Japanese, Chinese, and English were sitting with the Israeli trying to explain to him why he's too violent!

מה קורה כאשר זבוב נופל לספל קפה :

האנגלי - זורק את הספל והולך.

האמריקאי - מוציא את הזבוב ושותה את הקפה.

הסיני - אוכל את הזבוב וזורק את הקפה.

היפני - שותה את הקפה עם הזבוב כיוון שהוא ללא תוספת תשלום.

הישראלי - מוכר את הקפה לאמריקאי ואת הזבוב לסיני, וקונה לעצמו קפה חדש.

הפלסטיני - מאשים את הישראלי באלימות נגדו ובהשלכת הזבוב לתוך הקפה שלו, מבקש

סיוע מהאו"ם , לוקח הלוואה מהאיחוד האירופי כדי לרכוש קפה חדש, ומשתמש בכסף

לרכישת חומרי נפץ. אח"כ הוא מפוצץ את בית הקפה ששם יושבים: האנגלי,

האמריקאי, הסיני והיפני עם הישראלי ... שמנסים להסביר לישראלי שהוא יותר מדי תוקפני!.

THIS Land is My Land

Yesterday was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. I took the opportunity to point out to every American Israeli I saw (including my own children) that, whether you agree with his policies or not, it is pretty cool that the day after MLK Day, the US would swear in its first black president. Tonight, at 7pm our time, we crowded around the laptop screen as a family to watch Barack Obama's inauguration as the 44th president of the United States. Like I said, very cool and inspiring. I mean, look how far we've come. I am proud to be an American. The invocation was given by Pastor Rick Warren. He began really well - the kids thought it was really neat that he quoted "Shema Yisrael". He spoke about how everything belongs to God and the entire world exists for His glory. Good stuff. Then he switched gears and Jesus became his focus. He ended with the Lord's Prayer, a cornerstone of Christian worship. I felt blindsided. Here I was, sitting in my living room in Israel, proud to be an American, proud to come from a country that promotes the same values as Judaism, and then enters Jesus. It reminded me that while the United States of America is a wonderful country, it is not, and never will be the place for the Jews.

That's here.

Glad we live in Israel

Yesterday, I asked Simcha and Leah what they like about living in Israel. Here were their answers:

Simcha: It's a great place for kids - you can do so much on your own, like go to the produce store.

Leah: Two reasons (in this order)-
(1) Here we have a mamad (shelter) to go to if we get bombed - they don't have that in America. If they get bombed, there's nowhere to go.
(2) Hashem (God) gave us this Land as a special present.

You said it, hon!

Rosie the Riveter

I am not a morning person. Okay - that's the understatement of the century. Every morning, as soon as I open my eyes, I am presented with what seems like an insurmountable challenge: waking up. But, last night I got a phone call. It was a mother in the school my children attend, looking for volunteers. The soldiers who are supposed to be in school every day to help get the children into the shelters in case of a siren, would be delayed, since they would be coming from home. Many non-essential soldiers are permitted to go home for Shabbat. They were not expected to come until 8am. School doesn't start until 8:10, but the buses start coming at 7:30. So, they were looking for voluteers to be in school starting at 7:25 until the soldiers arrive. I said yes. You know what? I was able to get out of bed relatively quickly (I only snoozed once). I got everyone dressed and ready for breakfast (except Bezalel, who's home sick today), and ran out the door at 7:20. Thank God, it was boring. The soldiers (Leah will be happy to see they are "lady armies") got there at 7:45, and there were no sirens. So, like the women in the US during World War II who rallied behind the image of Rosie the Riveter and got jobs to help the war effort, today I did my part.

Don't Worry, They Got It...

Mail here is somewhat quaint. As a small yishuv, the mail doesn't come to our homes. Rather, we pick up the mail in boxes at the mercaz meschari (commercial center). While some people don't like it, I really don't mind it that much. Except when there's registered mail. Then you have to actually go to the office (closet?) when they're distributing the mail to pick up your letter.
So, when I got a slip for some registered mail last week, I made a mental note to go back and pick up whatever it was the next time I was around during mail distribution, which is of course between 10:30am and 12:30pm - when I'm not around there. Yesterday, I happened to be around the mail at 5:30 in the evening, and lo and behold, they're distributing the mail - so I get my letter.
It's from my auto insurance company. It's from a month ago (December 17th), telling me that I'm missing some important piece of information, and that if they didn't hear from me within three weeks of their sending the letter, they would cancel my insurance policy.
Well, reading the letter got me somewhat concerned. It's Friday so everything should be closed, but when I called my insurance agent's number, it of course gave me a cell number to call as well. (That's Israel for you.) I called his number and told him about the problem. His response was, and I quote, "Yeah - that letter's a month old. We took care of it a while ago."
When I expressed concern, he told me what is now my favorite quote from any insurance agent ever:
"Don't worry. They got it. They're idiots."
Indeed.

On the bus to Jerusalem

This morning, I went to work by bus. Usually, I don't take much time in the morning to daven all of shacharit (say the full morning prayer service), but on the days I take the bus, that's what I do on the way. On most mornings, there are several women doing the same. Today, something different greeted my eyes when I got on the bus - a young man was wearing tefillin (phylacteries) and finishing his morning prayers. It gave me a warm feeling to live in a country where a teenager feels comfortable wearing a set of tefillin on the bus. Then I wondered why he hadn't davened with a minyan. Hmmm.

On the way home, I took the bus going to Ashdod. Naturally, it was filled with soldiers en route to their bases. Again, I got a warm feeling. This time, it was about living in the country where children are raised to fight for ideals that are greater than the importance of their individual lives. I know I talk about it a lot, but that contrast between Israeli youth and American youth is striking to me. I'm so glad we moved here.

There was another siren this morning in YB. Leah's class was listening to music, so they didn't hear the siren. Thank God for the 15 or so soldiers who are stationed at the school for that very reason. They came into the classroom and quickly herded the girls into the mamad. Leah told me afterwards: "Ima, did you know they also have lady armies?"

Actually, we are all glad we moved here. It hit 70 degrees today, and I understand there is "skin-burning cold" running across the US. Come visit.

An Actual Siren

It's taken me a few days, but I'm now ready to write about it. On the kids' first day back at school (Sunday) Ruby dropped them off on his way to work. They (except for Petachya) usually ride their bikes, but Leah was a bit anxious. Plus, they were running late because they weren't used to getting up and out so early. The boys went to a school in Yerushalayim where the 11th graders there ran programs for them. At 10:00, Leah calls me - she has a stomach ache, can I come get her. So, I walk over to school. When I get there, I happen to see the school counselor who had talked with her about her fears, and she suggested it might be nerves. That made a lot of sense to me, given that there had already been a drill in school that morning. As I walked to Leah's classroom, there was another drill. The Home Front Command had placed about 15 or 20 soldiers in school whose sole purpose was to get the kids in the saferooms fast. They were milling around the common areas to help individual students on the way from one class to the other or to the office. I joined the students in the saferoom, and was able to convince Leah to stay. They were getting let out early (starting at 12:50, they let the kids out gradually so they weren't outside at the same time), and it would be less scary to stay in school, because she would be occupied. Leah made me promise to be there early to pick her up so she wouldn't have to wait. No problem. At 12:30 I left the house to walk to school. I called Ruby on the way to see how his day is going, as I often do when I'm walking around Yad Binyamin. As we're on the phone, I hear a siren. A real one. The area I was in was not the new area, where all the houses have saferooms. It was the old area, where they don't. I ran to the nearest house and banged on the door anyway, figuring I'd rather be in a group now for support. There was not answer, so I lay down on their front porch and covered my head with my hands, as we had been instructed to do. When the siren was over, I hear two distant "boom"s. I had just read that morning that all rockets "boom" twice - once upon impact and once upon explosion. Ruby stayed with me on the phone the entire time, and I began reciting chapter 121 of Psalms, as I mentioned in the previous post. After a few minutes, I heard a car go by, so I got up. On my way to school I saw people coming out of buildings to close car doors they had left open and pick up bags they had dropped running to a shelter. At school, I saw the principal, who was smiling - they had gotten everyone in saferooms in plenty of time. The rocket, I heard, had landed in Be'er Tuvia, near Kiryat Malachi, about a 10 minute drive away. Leah was shaken, but fine - no tears, and a lot of targeted questions.

In Sderot and Ashkelon, they do this several times a day, and the "booms" are much closer.

This morning, when I went to put Petachya's lunch in his backpack, I saw a note. His school was asking for donations of snacks and instant soups to send to the soldiers in Gaza. I immediately put a bag of pretzels and a soup in his bag (of course he wanted to eat the pretzels, but I promised him some later). When we got to school, Petachya proudly presented the food to his teacher, who was impressed with our alacrity. I told her that I hope it will be over soon, so I wanted to make sure to send stuff before it was over.

Some of you have expressed a desire to help the Israeli soldiers. They like snacks. Light packages that they could carry with them. Instant soups or meals that just need hot water are good to eat when they're in camp. This morning, I received an email that they need warm underclothes and hygiene products. I'm sure there are many organizations with websites that are collecting these products. If any of you know of a specific group, please post the link in the "comments" section of this blog. Please help in any way you can. These are our boys, and they need to know we support them and love them. They need to know they are not alone.

Back to School

Yay! The kids are back to school today! The boys are going on a trip to Jerusalem to have a "sports day" at a school there. Leah has regular classes, but is being dismissed at 12:50. There will be a drill during the first period of the day, and somehow, the kids will be dismissed sporadically so that they are not all outside at the same time. In Beer Sheva, only the 11th and 12th graders are scheduled to go back this morning, since they have to study for their government-mandated matriculation exams. They will be studying in the bomb shelters, I read. On their way to school this morning, though, there were 2 rockets launched into Beersheva. Photos on the ynet site show children crouching next to a fence. I hope the Home Front Command is in their school this morning, as in mine, to show the kids to lie down on the ground. Since the rocket explodes in a mushroom shape, that would minimize damage.

Over the past few days, I have had much time to reflect on our situation here in Yad Binyamin and the blogs I have been posting. My original goal was twofold: for me, it was to be a cathartic experience (which it is), and for you, to help you feel more connected to what's going on here in our Land, which sometimes seems so far away from the US. At the time I began to write again about a week ago, I was terrified, as you all read. However, my attitude has completely changed. After all, I am living in Yad Binyamin, not in Sderot or Ashkelon. How could I be scared? They are faced with this many times a day. The mayor of Ashkelon was on the radio last Thursday, and he said that he hadn't slept well the night before, since there were sirens at 11, 2, 4, and 7. My deepest thanks goes out to the residents of the areas immediately surrounding the Gaza Strip. Thank you for protecting our Land just by living there. I cannot imagine the daily terror they live with. Okay, I can try, and it's pretty darn scary. Thank you. Thank you to the Nachshoni family, whose son Adiel is somewhere inside, fighting for our right to live without that terror. Thank you to the son of Rafi and Etti Shtern, a mentor of my husbands that I just met last night, who is sitting in an army camp right outside the Strip, waiting to see if his engineering unit is going in. Thank you to their parents, who raised their children to see that there is something greater than themselves in this world, and that some things are worth fighting for.

On a happier note, I am thrilled to welcome into this world my newest niece (and the first from my side), Avigayil Shaindel Rosen. May God continue to bring new life into the world and guide us to raise our children to be committed to bringing His Light to all the nations.
Shavua tov.

The Drill

Today, at 5:30am, I got a knock on my door. It was Leah. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I'm scared of - you know," she said, and then she whispered, "the b-o-m." And that's how my day began.

The kids are still home from school. It definitely adds stress to all our lives. I'm not even talking about that feeling stay-at-home moms often have during school vacations, when they can't wait for their kids to go back to school. This is much baser than that. "Continue with your daily routine" say all the websites that deal with parenting in times like this. How can we do that if everyone is home? Petachya still went to gan, but he is leaving the house before everyone else and comes home with other children in the house, which he is not used to. Leah did homework with me this morning which her teacher posted on the school's website. Her art teacher also told the girls to draw pictures that they will discuss when school resumes. She drew pictures of herself brushing her hair, brushing her teeth, reading, and going to the park (Park Raanana). No pictures of rockets or safe rooms or sirens, as those parenting websites tell me to expect and encourage. She doesn't want to think about and focus on that. That's my girl! My amazing friend Ronya came and picked her up today for an afternoon in Ramat Beit Shemesh. She was glad to get out of range. Bezalel spent the day with Ruby at work, since he had an afternoon hearing test scheduled near there. That was a special treat for him, and he behaved exceptionally well. Poor Simcha just climbed the walls. He tried a few friends, but they were at grandparents or didn't call him back. In addition to all this craziness, he's waiting to hear if he got into the high school he wants to go to. Is this normal for an 11 year old? Normal is relative, I'm learning. Tomorrow the kids are going on another school trip - this time to a kibbutz near Petach Tikva. It's a full day, and I know they'll come back exhausted. From what I read on the news sites, school will probably (hopefully) resume on Sunday.

The last (potential) stress of the day was the scheduled siren test/get-in-your-saferoom-within-60-seconds drill at 7pm. We all knew it was happening. Petachya insisted he would not cry, saying it over and over again like a mantra. Kinneret (our amazing neighbor) told him he is one of the bravest boys she knows. You should have seen his chest puff out. I didn't really eat dinner, but the kids and Ruby didn't seem to have a hard time. Leah asked to go upstairs early so she would already be in the saferoom when the siren sounded. No problems. Then the siren went off. We heard it quite well, thank God. I remember a yoga class I once attended in which the instructor had us sing during certain postures, since singing encourages proper deep breathing. Therefore, to calm us all down, as soon as we got to the mamad (saferoom), I said we should sing. Bezalel chose the song - a beautiful rendition of Psalm 121 by Yosef Karduner.

Tears welled up in my eyes as the boys sang on top of their lungs with their arms around each other: "Behold, the Keeper of Israel does not sleep nor slumber". Leah, sitting on her father's lap, enveloped in his embrace, joined in: "May God guard you from all evil, may He guard your soul; May God guard your comings and goings now and forever."
I wish us all a peaceful and quiet night.

This is why I love this country

This morning we actually heard a siren. Ruby had left the house with Petachya to drop him off at gan on the way to work, and they both turned right around to come inside. Leah was already in the mamad playing computer, Simcha ran in on his own, and Bezalel was in bed without his hearing aids on, so I just grabbed him and went into the mamad myself. We sat for 5 minutes, and then went back to doing regular things. Leah didn't go into hystrical crying like she did in school, but she was shaking. She smiled easily, though, and was able to do deep yoga breathing with me. The boys were a little freaked out, but we didn't hear any explosions. Afterwards, Simcha said he was actually less scared since we actually did something, and I felt the same way. I was totally calm in the room. If we heard explosions, I'm sure we would have been more shaken, but all in all, we were okay. The rocket landed in Gedera, about an 8 minute drive from here. I drove on the main road around Gedera later this afternoon on my way to Rechovot, and did not see where the rocket had fallen.

But this is why I love my country: At some point on the way to or from Rechovot (I don't exactly remember), I had the radio on. They were giving out the names and phone numbers of poeple in various parts of Israel who would like to host religious families from Ashkelon and the south for Shabbat. My great-grandfather used to say that a family is like a hand - if one finger hurts, the whole hand feels the pain. That's what we are here in Israel - one big family.

Thank you, and the sirens work

For the past 10 days, the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is check my e-mail and the news sites. Today, since I left for work at 7:15, and I'm not a quick riser, I only had time to check my e-mail before heading for the bus. Wow. Thank you so much for the outpouring of support you all sent me. Due to the fact that I have several loads of laundry to do (it's hard to get things done with the kids around), I am not able to answer each of them individually, but they are invaluable to me. Please keep them coming!
When I came home from work, the older kids were still at their tiyul and Petachya was at his twice-weekly after-school program, so I had some time to check my e-mail again and the news sites. It's becoming somewhat of an obsession, but I'm trying not to do it when the kids are around. From the e-mails posted to the YB yahoo group, I learned that the sirens went off today at around 10am - for real. I found myself surprisingly calm. Contrary to previous days, I did not feel my usual overwhelming compulsion to check every new site to find out where it landed. Apparently, the sirens were heard very softly in my area of the yishuv, but that was fixed immediately, as is evidenced by the 5 loudspeakers newly perched atop the Beit Knesset Merkazi (the central synagogue), about half a block from my house. I found out afterward that the rocket had landed in Yavna (thank God without injuries), a community between Gedera and Ashdod, the same distance that we are from the Gaza Strip. However, I am not scared anymore. Maybe it was your e-mails. Maybe Ruby's right and the writing really is cathartic. Maybe my emunah/bitachon gene has kicked in. Whatever it is, I know that whatever happens is God's will. I know what to do if I need to, and the rest is up to Him. To paraphrase the blessing my father gave us every night before we went to sleep as my brother and sister and I were small (and he probably still gives us by proxy):
May God watch over us, and bless us, and keep us healthy and happy always.
Today is my sister-in-law's due date. We are anxiously waiting for happy news from the USA. My children are really excited about having a new niece or nephew - their first from my side. May the coming days bring us and all of klal Yisrael besorot tovot!

What it's like

Hello to all my readers again! It's been quite a while since I've posted, but I have received several requests, so I'm at it again. Ruby also said that writing could be cathartic, so here goes.

We've been here almost 6 months now, and are getting the full welcome into Israeli society. As many of you know (hopefully all of you), Israel is now (as I write) ending the ninth day of the latest military operation, titled "Operation Cast Lead" against Gaza, and the first day of the land assault. So far, one Israeli soldier has died, and 18 more are wounded. The reason the Isreali army is attacking Gaza, is because for the last 7 years or so Gazans have been firing rockets into the southern part of Israel. So, enough is enough. We went in to show them who's boss, and to give them a reason not to start up with us. I'm not really feeling like posting other things right now, but I highly recommend searching for the video on the internet titled "Fifteen Seconds in Sederot" to understand a bit of the terror the Israeli citizens in the area immediately surrounding the Gaza strip have been experiencing.
When our family decided to "take the leap" and move to Israel, the land of our forefathers, we chose to live in a quiet yishuv (village) called Yad Binyamin. We specifically did not choose to live in a community that was "over the green line". I felt that our family was making sacrifice enough, and that we did not have to live in potentially dangerous areas. As I explained to our children, Israel would not be Israel without the people who live over the green line, and to those people I am eternally grateful, but I'm not ready to be one of them. It just goes to show . . . As my grandmother would say "mentch tracht, unt Gott lacht", which loosely translates as "the best laid plans of mice and men are often led astray" (by God, of course).
Anyway, here I am now sitting at my computer in quiet, peaceful YB, which has recently (last week) been declared "in the zone." That is because at 39.6 kilometers from the Gaza Strip, we are within the 40 kilometer expected range of their rockets. That means my children now understand why we have a concrete and metal fortified safe room in our house. That means my 6 year old daughter knows that if she is outside and hears a warning siren and is not near a building, she should lie down flat on her stomach and cover her head for five minutes. That means that we are all on edge, listening for every stray sound, and wondering when the rockets will fall.
The Home Front Security department has declared that there should be no school for the children in YB. There have been no sirens here (thank God), but the kids have been home since Thursday, walking on eggshells. Today we took them to Raanana, at the request of my oldest (age 11) who asked if we could go somewhere "out of range". Tomorrow, the school has arranged a trip for them to the Biblical Zoo in Jerusalem, which is good, because Ruby and I both have to go to work.
So, you ask me how I am. Here's the way I work. I need the opportunity to lie. I need you to ask me how I'm holding up so I can tell you I'm fine, that I'm staying strong, and do not feel the need to leave where I live. I know with my head that God will take care of us, as He always orchestrates the important aspects of our lives. I know with my head that I am well prepared, and know what to do in the case of an emergency to best take care of my family. I know in my head that this military operation is crucial for the survival of the Jewish people. But I feel in my heart that I'm scared. I'm scared for my children, who jump at every sound. I'm scared for the soldiers who are mostly children in their early 20's, but also fathers, sons, and brothers. I'm just scared.
So if you want something to do that could help us over here, please do the following:
1. Pray/daven - ask God that this should go swiftly and smoothly, with minimum casualties.
2. Call or write with your supporting words - please let me know that you read my blog post. It may sound selfish, but this is truly what we need now - just tell us what you feel, that you support us and that you're thinking of us.
May God bring peace upon us all soon.
Layla tov.