How Being a Mom in Israel is Different
In many ways, my life looks like the life of any mother anywhere in the world.
This morning, for example, I woke up long before I would have liked to.
Then woke up my kids (long before they would have liked to).
Then fed them breakfast.
Then spoke too harshly to my daughter cause she said she had brushed her hair when she hadn’t.
Then sent my bigger kids off to school, and took my little kids off to kindergarten and playgroup.
Then felt badly for having spoken too harshly to my daughter.
Then ate some breakfast, and did whatever we moms do when nobody is looking…
But the truth is, despite all the similarities, my mothering life isn’t the same as the life of any mother anywhere in the world. Because I’m raising my children in Israel. In the Holy Land. Living a life infused by the energy of our Matriarchs and Patriarchs, the first human beings to believe in Hashem and walk in His ways. Where we ascended to the Temple to serve the Creator 3 times a year. The Land which my ancestors yearned to return to for 2000 years, and now I’m here. In a living prophecy.
18 minutes ago, at 11 o’clock, a siren was heard throughout the entire land of Israel.
And in my kitchen, standing over a sink full of dirty dishes, the moment the siren reached my ears I began to sob, remembering the boys and men in IDF uniform killed so that I could raise my family in this holiest of lands.
During the siren, I felt my mouth open, as though the siren was, in fact, coming out of me. A shofar call. A primal scream. Of grief. Of unfathomable loss.
Of yearning for comfort and, please G-d, peace.
Excellent post, and totally relatable.
Thank you again, Chana Jenny!