From the Times of Israel:
“Plans I never thought I’d have to make”
At the dinner table. my husband casually announced what we'd
do if terrorists broke into our home. I was incredulous.
I moved to this country about 30 years ago with my husband
and our 5-month-old baby girl. My three subsequent children were born here. My
son’s Brit Milah took place during a scary and painful week of bus bombings in
1995; in fact, I delivered him just moments after a bus got bombed and 8 days
later he had his Brit while another bus got bombed. For me personally, it was a
joyful yet confusing week – I had a healthy baby boy and was delighted – but
the country was in mourning.
Then it was around 2003 and we found ourselves in yet another
conflict with our neighbors. We were instructed to carry gas masks with us
wherever we went. After we went to pick them up at the local distribution
center, I wanted to find a way to normalize this for the kids so I had a plan: We
spent a lazy afternoon doing an art project. I bought stickers and colorful
markers and we decorated the gas mask boxes. Years later, the Fogel family was
brutally murdered in their home. The country was in shock and it sparked a lot
of difficult conversations between husbands and wives. Conversations I’m sure
those of you who don’t live in Israel have ever had.
Did we have a plan if someone broke in? Our kids were still
small and my son, God bless him, could sleep through a jet plane landing on our
roof. We discussed the best course of action: my husband would grab him and the
baby. I would get the two girls and we’d go up to the attic. In a spare room
was a small door that opened into the roof. We had a piece of furniture
blocking it so it was almost impossible to see the door. The plan was to move
the furniture, get into that roof space with everyone, pull the door shut and
yank the furniture back into place. And be quiet. And I had nightmares of
events unfolding in my home, vivid images of me desperately trying to yank my
kids upstairs all while keeping them quiet as we ran for safety.
My husband has family in the Shomron, in yishuvim surrounded
by Arab towns. We have often driven there for family events, but as much as I
love seeing family, I always had a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach
about making the drive there. Over the years, many Israelis have been targeted,
shot at and killed by drive-by terrorists. Again, I had to have a plan. So I
taught my kids “goose, goose, duck”. You’re thinking I have the game all wrong,
but no, this was my version of the game. I taught them that when I said
“goose”, they would keep their seatbelts on and sit tight, but when I said
“duck”, they were to remove their seatbelts as quickly as possible and get down
on the floor of the car on their bellies and lie down as flat as they could. And
we practiced this game.
This is motherhood – fatherhood – parenthood – in Israel.
It’s different from parenthood in any other democratic country in the world.
Don’t misunderstand me – we have many things in common with you: we love our
kids to distraction, we will do anything to protect them, we want to nourish
them in both body and spirit, and we want them to grow into good, moral, kind,
and generous people. But we have an enemy at our doorstep – an enemy that has
ALWAYS been there – that wants to take all our children away from us. And that
is the difference between us.
So we are forced to make a plan. This past week has been one
of the most painful weeks of my life. My heart literally hurts from worry for
the kidnapped, my appetite completely gone after seeing the thousands of faces
of our people plastered on social media, day after day after day, announcing
yet another funeral. I’m jumping out of my skin at every bump in the night and
just so utterly sad all the time. And
while I was in too much shock to think about a plan, my husband made one.
He casually announced at the dinner table that if we all had
to go into a safe room because there were terrorists breaking into our home, he
would lock us in, and sit outside it with his gun. I was incredulous, “No! Why wouldn’t
you stay inside with us?” But he insisted. This was where he would be. He would
be a wall of force between us and these monsters. It was decided.
Last night we went to visit a family friend from one of the
communities that was on the border of Gaza. For some miraculous reason, the
communities around them were brutally attacked but theirs wasn’t. But since the
settlements along the entire southern border near Gaza were evacuated, they
have been put up in a hotel in Netanya. With literally the clothes on their
back. There’s no plan for them to return right now; essentially they are
homeless. My husband asked his friend what he did when they heard all the
attacks and knew they were surrounded by Hamas terrorists. He said, “I put my
family in the safe rooms and I sat outside with my gun and a bottle of
whiskey.” He too, had a plan. No one else in the world who lives in a
Democratic country has to even think of these scenarios. No one has to make
these kinds of plans. I was trying to think of who would ever have to have
these insane conversations with their spouses, their families?
The answer came to me immediately. My grandparents had these
conversations – with their children, with each other, with their neighbors.
Living in Eastern Europe during WWII was not the place to be as a Jewish
person. And so they had these conversations: Where will we hide? How will we
protect ourselves and our children? Do we have a plan? Who can we trust?
We are tired of making these kinds of plans. And if you were
faced with the kind of blind Jew-hatred and terrorism that we are faced with
EVERY SINGLE DAY, then you would be too. So why, you might ask, why don’t I
pick myself up and move? Move to a country where I don’t have to make these
kinds of plans?
Because Israel is my home. It’s the home of the Jewish people
the world over. And the people of this world – Jewish or not – need us. They
need us to be strong and to thrive. But this disease called terrorism is
spreading. It’s spreading everywhere, beyond our borders, and it’s come to the
point where no one is safe from them anymore, whether you’re in London,
Venezuela or Toronto.
So I’d rather stay here; here where my army is a Jewish one,
built out of necessity by the children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren
of Holocaust survivors, and of Middle Eastern Jews from Egypt, Syria, Algeria,
Tunisia, Iran, Iraq and many more who had no choice but to run for their lives.
Our country is a country of survivors. And no one knows more than survivors how
to fight for this place. So this is our plan: We will stay and fight.
^ Do you have to stop and think of what you would do if your
home was invaded by Terrorists?
Wonder if you can make it to your Bomb Shelter or Safe Room
in time before a Missile falls?
That is everyday life in Israel (and has been since Israel
was founded in 1948.)
Despite all the Battles and Wars by so many Countries and
Terrorists in the past 75 years (FYI Israel has never lost a War since it was
founded) Israel continues to be the only Democracy in the Middle East.
Want to see the difference between Hamas and the Israelis?
Hamas used tunnels to sneak into Israel, without warning, and
rape, torture, kill and kidnap Innocent Men, Women and Children.
Israel has told the Gazans where they should move to - giving
them fair warning. ^
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