Today I started my day with psalms, after we got the word that an 18 year old was stabbed in front of the shul. It now looks like his is worse off, than it was said in the beginning, so if you got a moment please pray or send a good wish for Menachem, son of Chana, who was stabbed on his way to pray. And I guiltily catch myself thinking thankfully it is just one boy, it could have been so much worse, the terrorists tried to board two school buses. Age of terrorists? Not sure, but almost certainly under 18. One killed, one heavily wounded. And I hate that horrible “it could have been much, much worse” thought. After all there is Chana, in Beit Shemesh, for whom it is The Worst, because it is her Son, while my 18 year old is thankfully safe. And I stop myself from telling him off for some little thing he did again (think males and toilet seats), because what if next time it is… And I cry for Menachem and for my own Son.
And I cry for the two little boys, brainwashed and pushed into killing and being killed. Terrorists’ families will celebrate their “brave deed and glorious death”. But someone has to do the crying, and today I am this “someone”. I will cry for all the good they did not get to do And I will rage at the evil magicians transforming babies into murderers.
I cry for a solder surely not out of his twentys, who had to shoot a 15 year old terrorist girl last morning. She had two knives and a Molotov Cocktail and refused to stop. I saw his picture yesterday as he carried her (she is shot in the arm and alive). He looked nauseous. And I will cry for both of them. Her Father said she was simply sleepwalking. Kilometers away from home, in a Jewish village, and yea, don’t all take knives and incendiaries to bed with us. You know, I got a bridge in Brooklyn that I can sell to him. After all he will have more than enough money now with the stipend Hamas will pay him for his terrorist daughter. The way I see it he and her Mother and her caring teachers are the true criminals. They made her into a bloody sacrifice! They fed her a diet of rage, hate and lies. Instead of raising a daughter they raised a killing machine.
I will cry for a girl solder Dikla Mikdash, daughter of Chava, who is in critical condition after being stabbed in the neck. And her brave partner (yes, another girl), who defended Dikla and shot one of the terrorists.
I will cry for DD#1, who finally took off shrink wrap from her pink pepper spray after her school bus was pelted with rocks. By the way, when you hear about rock throwing and imagine something like driveway gravel, imagine again. Think cement blocks, think bus drivers wearing helmets. Think what a cement block can do to a speeding car or bus full of passengers. She did not tell me about the bus stoning. She did not want to worry me. Yesterday, I went to our tiny mall. Armed solders were out in mass. The day before a terrorist armed with a knife and a Molotov Cocktail (seems to be the standard equpment) was apprehended there. I looked at the Uzi-toting girls and I felt rage and gratitude at the same time. Rage because here are 19 year old babies, put in the way of harm. And gratitude to them for protecting me. So I went into the bakery and got some doughnuts for them. When I told the owner not to bother taping the box, I am giving it to solders, he made it half price. He wanted a part in that gift. I thought only I was so silly, but a friend told me that she brought them chips, and when I was leaving someone was passing out chocolates to them. These (doughnuts, chips and chocolate) are the three major food groups in Israel. As long as our solders supplied with them we are unbeatable.
I will cry for our Mother Rochel, whose grave was yesterday arbitrarily declared a Muslin Holy Place by UNESCO. The grave predates Islam by 600 years, never mind the Palestinians! I guess UNESCO felt that after burning Kever Yoseph (Grave of Joseph) twice in three days they had to be rewarded. In 2012 I published a four part post about my trip there. I remember that I wanted to, but could not take a photo of a very unusual cover of the tomb stone. It is brilliant white and embroidered with flowers, beads and so on. Only later I found out that this cover was made from a wedding dress of a bride who was killed along with her father and many other people by a suicide bomber three days before her wedding.
I cry for you Mama Rochel, I cry for you.
So with all this crying to do I know one person for whom I am not going to cry. This person is me. Yes, even with all THIS going on I am still not sorry I came here, this is where I belong.