The Soldiers’ Mother

Every Friday I attend pilates class with the mother of one of my daughter’s best friends.
This past Friday, after class, I asked her what we mothers of adult children ask each other this time of year: “Who was home for seder?”
“Everyone was home except my 2 older sons. They weren’t home for all of Passover.”
“Really?”
“Yes, my younger son just drafted with his yeshiva, he is serving now in the North. And my older son has been serving in the North also, for 150 days!”
My 4 oldest children are daughters, 3 of whom have done volunteer national service rather than serving in the IDF.
My national service girl is doing agricultural work to help farmers in the North harvest their crops in place of foreign workers who’ve fled on account of the war. My daughter in the Air Force spent several challenging months at the beginning of the war doing reserve duty, but sitting in an air-conditioned office.
You can’t compare this with the experience of combat soldiers (the vast majority of whom are male) and their parents and since the beginning of the war, I’ve been repeatedly shaken by the parallel reality of all the mothers of sons around me, sending their sons into harm’s way so that my family and all of Israel’s families can be safe from our blood-thirsty enemies who won’t rest until they’ve succeeded in driving Israel into the sea.
What can I say? To you and your son (or sons.) But thank you. And I salute you.