Israel's Allure....

There's something very 'Billy Joel' about this Land.  I have a feeling we all know why She goes to extremes and like the lyricist sings, there seem to be no in-betweens.  I told someone earlier that Israel can be the most amazing place on the planet or make me wanna kill myself; the timing is the only thing that separates the two!  Enigmatic, seductive, full of profundity, simplicity, and sometimes Itself, Israel is in so many ways, a place unto its own.

I said once before that I don't know how a physical space can be so utterly magnetic.  Living here is sometimes akin to being a religious voyeur or a masochist.  There's always a fight or a struggle, always something to keep us entertained and give us reason to grab our chests.  We're always in the news, whether its because of another political tragedy, technological advancement, or latest holy battle.  New York may think It's the city that never sleeps, but this li'l country gives NYC some stiff competition for that title.

A few people have told me they think I'm sad, upset about being here.  I like to think I'm insightful, but no, I'm not sad.  If there are those who wear their hearts on their sleeve, I tend to wear mine as a full outfit; anyone who knows me well knows that's my standard modus operandi.  So when I share my thoughts and feelings, even admit that I cry like a big 'ol baby, it doesn't always indicate sadness. 

Before we moved, many asked me why.  Why now, why there, why, given how established you are, the friends and family you'll leave behind, yadda, yadda, yadda.  I was, frankly, embarrassed that I could never seem to articulate THE reason for our move.  I wondered, "Am I faking it?  Do I not *have* a real reason?  Am I being pretentious?  Do I even know why we're leaving?  Should we just be committed, medicated, and call it a day?" And particularly for someone as ever-so-slightly verbose as I (Oh, I can hear the laughter from here...), not being able to tell someone THE REASON was a little scary.

In discussing this with one of my trusted and beloved co-workers, for whom moving to Israel is probably as likely as say, moving to Timbuktu, I learned why I was leaving. She listened as I spoke dreamily and said, "Its because you want to live an authentic [Jewish] life."  And there it was.  Boom! No fuss, no muss, no need for a thesaurus (I wasn't planning on making that rhyme, but I like the Dr. Seuss flow).  I'm going to live in Israel so I can live my life as an authentic Jewish woman, mother, and wife.  Ta-da!  The reason was born.

There have been moments since we landed at Ben Gurion that I have loved beyond words, as well as those I loathe to give voice to.  But let me clear, THIS is where I belong, where my family belongs, where my soul and heart belong.  When you're at peace within yourself, everything, and I do mean everything, falls into place.  They may not fall where you thought they would, or land in the spot you prepared, but when your kishkies ('guts') are at peace, so is the rest of you and all you're a part of.  Living in Israel, as an old time Olah (someone who made Aliyah) told me all of 5 days after our arrival, is a privilege.  Seems funny to think about living in a place where you can find Jews who hate other Jews and Arabs who insist we stole their land in this way.  But to be a part of our authentic history, to be able to go on a tour of biblical sights that make the Torah come alive, to be in a Land where you're wished a Happy New Year on soda bottles, where the words "holiday season" do not mean "we're trying to be PC but you know we're talking about Christmas," IS a privilege.  There's no panacea here or in the States or Timbuktu (I should tell my friend in case she somehow does decide to head there).  But Israel is as close as I can get to G-D and with that, I offer a prayer, a very Rachel-esque prayer.

Dearest G-D in the heavens, my heart, my soul and my home....

Please watch over all Your people, no matter where they live, the name they give You, the color of their skin, their past, their present, or their future.  Please help us keep our intentions pure as we interact with the world You've allowed us to be a part of, so that we may know You in the most blessed of senses.  Please watch over our children and our spouses and help each of us be the best 'us' we can be for all of them.  Please allow us to flourish and not flounder, to seek You and find You even when we don't know how much we need You.  Please help us unite for causes that are good and not destroy ourselves from within.  Please encourage us to use the brains You've given us so we may think for ourselves but also know when we simply can't do it alone.  On this Rosh Hashanah, please help us get over ourselves so we can do what is right in Your eyes and not everyone else's.  Please help us be a Light unto to the nations- including our own.  Please help us be the 'stand up' people we have the potential to be and let all egos, power trips, hatred, and sheer stupidity be alleviated from this world.  Thank You for all that You are and all that You continue to do for us, including giving us the ability to create tangible peace and true respect.  Dear G-D, thank You for being in my life and holding the lantern by my side particularly when it feels a bit heavy.  Thank You for being You and encouraging me to do the same."

May we all have a Shanah Tova (a Good Year) in all the ways we hope and pray it to be.  Chag Sameach L'Kulam (Happy Holiday to all)!

Evolution of a Dream...

In the past few days I've asked myself why I'm here.  I came to this country with a whole lot of dreams, some wishful thinking, and tremendous intent.  But its hard to live day in and day out missing your loved ones, your creature comforts, and not, say, wake up to this week's version of "As the Hafganah (protest) Turns."  Factor in the energy it takes to communicate in Hebrew (Oh, how I long for the day when I can skim an article and understand it), and you've got yourself a fairly large, international headache.

I do a fair share of crying.  I'm lying; I do *everybody's* fair share of crying.  I'm a mush on a good day, so the taxing ones, difficult ones, and downright painful ones pry open the flood gates like Niagara Falls.  I find myself crying about different things-  missing Chicago, missing my friends, missing walls with colors other than the very safe yellow and eggshell the kablan (builder) used on our rented home. Then there's the sheer volume of everything going on in my life, not to mention the amount of Goliath-like strength we need to raise 4 children, 3 of whom are teenagers.  The phrase "G-D give me strength" is uttered quite often 'round here.

But as I sat on our mirpeset (porch) this past Shabbat reading a rather good book about a murderous child (how's that for relaxing content?), I realized that the lines that divide my life before and after Aliyah are blurring in a big, and relatively surprising, way. I'm a big believer in boundaries, as in, please respect my space and I'll respect yours, but this is one of those rare times when blurry lines are not a bad thing.  There are times I find myself pining for the things I miss (my kingdom for a car!), but I find myself kind of enjoying the life we're creating here.  I don't relish the reenactment of the bumpy bus rides of my youth, I'm still not entirely sure why skim milk, in a land working towards a cure for Alzheimer's, is such a big deal, and I have a hard time wrapping my head around why every surface needs to be on a slant.  Does no one else in Israel enjoy walking on flat surfaces?  Geez....

Ironically, I can't necessarily say I love this, that, or the other thing, about Israel.  I find that I'm back to that rather comfortable place of simply knowing and sensing the intangible. Israel is, I believe with my heart and soul, a sensory playground.  I feel it, I see it, I hear it- but please don't ask me to explain it.  Though I really get, now that I'm no longer in the States, just how connected and attached I was to the customs of my youth and the routines of my adulthood, what I understand more is that, for me at least, the US contained a tangible absence of everything I feel here.  My cup overfloweth with the amount of spiritual fulfillment I have here.

Tonight's unity rally in Beit Shemesh, despite the fact that we've had rally after rally, after protest after rally, strengthened me in ways that I needed.   Being here for not even 3 months is, in my estimation, way too soon to feel the passion burn out.  But dealing with folks who protest the existence of the Jews I most identify with, gets really old really fast.   I credit this group of extremists with raining on my Aliyah parade and frankly, resent them for it.  Perhaps they didn't get the memo, but the first year post-move involves backbreaking labor and thusly, does not need additional junk added to it.  I mean, what's a little misguided hatred in the name of G-D added to the adjustment to a new country, new schools, and a new language?

So you can understand then why I was a little surprised (OK, a lot surprised) to find myself, while still in the midst of resentment and feelings of disgust that follow me like a puppy, a bit grateful to these zealots for the ways in which they've left "the other side" no choice BUT to unify.  Trust me, I'm not going to send out personal thank you cards and would have been just fine if they hadn't done some of the despicable things they have.  Still, being part of a crowd singing HaTikva (Israel's national anthem about hope), Am Yisrael Chai (The Nation of Israel Lives), and being privileged to hear representatives from assorted parts of our community, made me feel that "Od Lo Avadeti Tikvateinu,"  *I* have still not lost (our) hope."  I know why I came to this Land.  It is, and dare I sound hokey and American, my Land and was made for (you and) me.  It is a gift to all Jews, no matter how they dress, what they look like, or the language they speak.  My intentions are to establish myself as a contributing member of the national and religious communities, no- to the JEWISH community.  My dream, and when I dream I dream big, is to be part of something that unifies Jews of every shape and color. Real life and I have, once again, become intimately acquainted, but I simply refuse to stop dreaming.  I came to Israel to live an authentic Jewish life where shofar (ram's horn) blowing is the norm, where you have to go out of your way to find non-kosher food, and where Good Shabbos can be heard from bus drivers and grandmas alike.

Something crystallized for me tonight.  See, Beit Shemesh's fight is MY fight.  We all want to be heard and acknowledged and respected, even though sometimes the means to that end are about as backwards as they come.  But I can really understand now that  I'm part of something so much bigger than myself and my family.  I am truly a piece of a very old and very meaningful puzzle.  My dreams are no longer just in my head, but what I live every single day. There are more dreams from whence the original batch came, and I'm choosing to savor each one. My blurry lined dreams now lend themselves to a very real, integrated way of living.  They helped me get to Israel and will help me ultimately grow into who and what I have the potential to be. 

I think I'm gonna like it here....

I'd be lying if I said there haven't been moments that make me wonder what in the world I got myself into.  I've seen some pretty ugly things in these parts, and not from the places or people I thought I would.  I'd read about some of the stuff I've seen and experienced, but witnessing them always brings me back to the phrase, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."  Frankly, I sometimes think we're not even on the same planet anymore! Some folks are able to bring animus and acrimony to new heights.  Said folks really need new hobbies.


I maintain that G-D is the best comic around.  When I'm feeling like I've landed on Planet of the Apes, somehow, some thing or someone shows up to prove me wrong.  After this week's "Get to the back, Rosa" experience, I found myself in a store whose clerk was playing, "Just One Shabbos," a song about Jewish unity at its best.  Earlier this week, my husband and I went into a sporting good store in hot pursuit of an American-style football (we got the last one!) where the cashier welcomed us to Israel.  A few weeks ago, while sitting on a bus that's usually crowded but emptied before I'm used to, the Ethiopian bus driver assured me that I was on the right bus and that I'd get more comfortable with the bus lines in time.  Today, a phone company representative wished me an easy klita (absorption into Israeli society).  Its funny, 'cause I don't ever remember the phone company in the States doing much more than telling me that 9AM-5PM really was a realistic time frame to wait for a tech.  Often, no one seemed to care that real people with real phone problems can't just sit home and pander to the phone company's will-I-or-won't-I-show-up-today tactics.  The techs were often rather pleasant, but none ever welcomed me to the 'hood.


I've seen a great many instances of what I call 'Jews behaving badly,' a sitcom idea I hope no one ever picks up.  But I've been welcomed in the oddest ways and in the oddest places.  I mean really, why did the bank clerk care that I use the Hebrew she could tell I was struggling with? She cared about my linguistic skills as well as where I put my money?  Two of my sons encountered a public bus driver who wanted to know why they weren't speaking Hebrew, only to tell them that he's from New Jersey after learning they were right off the boat (er, plane).  The cell phone company gal agreed, during what I can only imagine was a relatively painful conversation all the way around, that she'd go easy on us in Hebrew if we agreed to go easy on her in English.  A rental car guy, after seeing our not-so-hidden disappointment about not being able to rent a car without our passports (Do you carry your passport everywhere?  We don't!), drove Josh home so he could get our passports, and then drove him back so we could rent a car.  When I was on an undeniably overcrowded bus, literally laying on a Charedi woman because there was no where else to go, I knew she had every right to tell me to get off.  Instead, she told me that they really need to add more buses to the fleet during school dismissal time so that we don't have children bouncing off the interior like uniformed ping pong balls.  I agreed with her, she told me its been like this forever, and we wished each other a good day. Israelis are very particular about having photographs taken in their stores (Really, I don't think I'm gonna start a war because I have a picture of your merchandise, but hey, its your store, so...), but when I asked a grocery store worker if I could take pictures of a table set for Rosh Hashanah (The Jewish New Year) to show friends in the States, he responded with the world's biggest "Betach (Absolutely)!!!" Even our ulpan teacher, whose job it is to shove as much Hebrew into our tired American heads as possible, has shared bits and pieces of her own immigration to Israel.


Honestly, I just gotta ask... What's with these people??? Why do they care so much?  Why have they welcomed us so warmly?  And why do they want *us* to teach *them* English?  Perhaps, just perhaps, its because this is really how folks are supposed to act.  At this moment in our lives, we are very strange strangers in a beyond-description strange land.  A friend of ours said once that she believes the possibilities for evil are greater here because the realities of holiness are, too.  I suppose its that "you can't hate till you love" or "you don't know what you've got till its gone" kind of thinking.  I'm bowled over by the dichotomy in approaches and the full force with which both ways of being come at you here.  


I crave consistency, which makes the whole move-out-of-your-literal-comfort-zone a wee bit difficult sometimes.  But I'm learning new levels of comfort and that I'll need to employ them when new levels of discomfort rear their head.  I'm not on an "Israel's perfect" kick, but I am giving myself permission to appreciate the good that is here, that is evident, and that doesn't require a search party or magnifying glass.  I've been called naive, a dreamer, and unrealistic.  Ironically, the folks that have used those terms have done so, I think,  in the hopes of getting my feet to meet the pavement.  I often say that I understand *how* things happen, but can't understand why they really do.  I don't get how a people who've gone through every horrific social ill imaginable (and I know that there are other groups and societies and cultures who have as well), can so viciously turn on itself.  I think fear of the unknown and worry about what'll happen next drive a lot of that venom.  I think a lack of education, a lack of exploration, and the absence of critical thought intensifies those fears.  None of these reasons are excuses, but I think they are very real forces to be reckoned with. 


And yet, you have some of the most opinionated taxi drivers, who I'm convinced would make great politicians in this itty bitty plot of land, that will fearlessly tell you where its at while helping you unpack your  groceries, utility company representatives who are glad you're here, and neighbors who often don't know what to do next to help you get adjusted and stay that way.  I'm starting to think that the Israeli flag is only two colors as a metaphor for the country's divergent paths.  And being Jews, I'm impressed we were even able to agree on which two colors!   


I'm determined to do my fair share of making this work.  And not just our aliyah, but being Jews in this wacky little place we call home.  I think of the Kotel, the Western Wall, as the great equalizer.  Everyone who stands there stands before G-D.  You can agree, disagree, wear a skirt, slacks, have a keepah or not, and think whatever you want.  But when you're at that Wall you're in the presence of G-D Himself.  No one's bigger nor is anyone better, even if they think they are.  Everyone stands as one in the presence of He who is One.  Its the most subtle but undeniable way of putting us in our place. We all need to know where we stand within ourselves, our communities, and on this planet.  Mordechai Ben David sings, "We’ll sing and dance to the sky, With our spirits so high, We’ll show them all it’s true, Let them come and join us too." May those who welcome, those who isolate, and those who don't even know who they are, join in all that is good.  I'm determined to continue making that leap and hope that others join, because you know what? The water's nice and warm on this side of the world.  

Just One Shabbos, song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cu7TR_VaPPk&feature=related

Just One Shabbos, lyrics: http://jewishmusiclyrics.blogspot.com/2007/05/just-one-shabbos.html

Rosa Parksenstein has arrived...

There wasn't much I could really do after learning of my father’s death on a Shabbos (Sabbath) 14 years ago; he died in New York and we lived in Chicago.  I wandered aimlessly through our apartment, to the front steps, back and forth, and then back and forth some more, all day long. During one of my "stare into space on the stoop" sessions, I saw what seemed to be the world's largest and slowest caterpillar.  That little thing chugged away, centimeter by centimeter and I thought that at some point, it would probably turn into a really large, and hopefully beautiful butterfly.  Since that day, I've associated butterflies with my father.  I'm not sure when I made the connection, but there is something very special, comforting, and real to me about them.  Today I saw two butterflies and I haven't seen many in Israel thus far. I’ve experienced my fair share of infuriatingly persistent buzzing flies, but not butterflies. I’ve also never in my entire life experienced the kind of traumatic morning I did today.  I've suffered through trauma, but this, this was beyond belief.  And if I allow myself to relive it, it proves to be as traumatic and unbelievable now as it was then.  I suppose the first of the two butterflies I saw today was my father's way of saying, "I'm right here and I have your back."  

We live in Beit Shemesh, an area that is populated by both Dati-Leumi (religious-national) and Chareidi ("ultra orthodox") Jews.  Within the Charedi group of  not so merry men and women, is a belief that the genders should be separated whenever they can be- during food shopping, eating pizza, or riding a public bus.  I'd heard and read about "Mehadrin" buses (loosely translated as the ‘best of the best’) and told myself that I would never take one. One might think that description refers to the bus' navigational system or road handling,  but it doesn’t.  Some how, someone came up with this nutty idea to have women sit in the back of the bus and men in front, for the purposes of modesty.  I don't know whether to laugh or throw up because it's simply unreal.  But I learned first hand today that it is very real. And if you know me, and for what its worth, I talk how I type, you know that I don't "do"  disrespect, prejudice, or inhumane behavior very well at all. 

My husband and I had no clue that the bus we boarded this morning was a "mehadrin" bus.  Bus segregation for the record, is entirely ILLEGAL in Israel, but still practiced by some… my luck! As I scanned the front of the bus for an available spot after paying my fare, a seated gentleman in Charedi garb told my husband that I had to go to the back of the bus. My answer was simple: NO. He told us it was a Mehadrin bus, as if that would make me skip to my 'rightful' place in the back, but his statement was quickly met with, "Lo bishvili (Not for me)!" A woman sitting in the back of the bus threw in her two shekels and INSISTED loudly, and eventually up close and personally while yelling at me in front of the other straphangers, that I move to the back out of "kavod (respect)." She told me, "This isn't the US... [you]can't just do what [you] want," and then proceeded to call me "chiloni (secular)." Understand that in Israel, being called 'chiloni' is the equivalent of telling someone they're not even Jewish. 

But these folks were messing with the wrong Jewish lady. I stood my ground and told her that she could be a slave but that I choose not to be.  I continued to sit in the front of the bus for the very brief period of time we were even on the dang thing, and maintained my not-so-subtle stance: the back of the bus my foot! It was, indeed, my "Rosa Parksenstein" moment, but I made it very clear to myself and the others on the bus, that I will, frankly, be damned if anyone's going to tell me where I can sit or treat me like a second class citizen. There was no way on this planet that I was going to be made to feel like anything OTHER THAN a proud Jewish woman. I had my kubaton in hand in case things got physical, as I wasn't convinced they wouldn't.  Proud I am, stupid I'm not.

After exiting the bus, kubaton in hand and religious litany in ear, the tears started to flow  from a visceral place deep inside.  I cover my hair, I wear skirts, I wear sleeved shirts, and maintain that my most important jobs in this world are that of being a mother and wife.  I know where it’s "at" and I know that public embarrassment and shame are not.  When someone asked me why I was crying, a woman who was dressed much like me, she asked if I was told to move to the back because of how I'm dressed.  I told her it wasn't because of my dress, but because I have a uterus.  I learned, once again,  just how important it is to stand up for what I am.  Moments earlier I was able to calm myself briefly by acknowledging that this was just a test.  Of what you ask?  Perhaps, of seeing how much I believe the phrase, "Don't judge Judaism by its Jews."  Perhaps, of seeing how much insanity I'll put up with before I say, "we are OUTTA here!" 

I've had my mettle tested before and I don't give up easily.  My passion in what I believe in is both my strongest and weakest suits. But today it was the best weapon I had. I know who I am and that being a Jewish woman is something I am extremely proud of.  For crying out loud, my kids are Jewish because of ME.   I've no intentions of hiding from someone who finds the scent of my estrogen too strong.   I will not hide behind my femininity nor, use it destructively. Ironically, I actually LIKE covering my hair (it's like dress-up for grown ups) and clothing myself in a way that speaks to my integrity.  One might've thought I was dressed like a... or not dressed at all from the reactions I received today.  I even find it a bit amazing that the woman yelling at me was upset enough to enter (cue the Star Wars music) "The Verboten Spot" just to give me a piece of her mind- one that she clearly needs to keep to herself. Perhaps passion is her yin-yang, too.

I cried from what seemed like the depths of my soul. The assault hurt in a way that I still can't entirely explain but feel in the pit of my stomach, core of my being, and fabric of my soul.  In my opinion at least, I’m one of the most respectful people I know; its part of who I am personally, religiously, and professionally.  So to not be given the same due, particularly by a hair covering, skirt wearing, Jewish woman, boggles my mind.  Our Torah contains stories about women who led the way, navigated uncharted territory, and still made it home for dinner. Women who dressed modestly but were alluring when they needed to be. Women who stood by their men and stood up for themselves.  See, I don't want to be as innovative as much as be like them.

I don't want to fight, I don't want to argue, and I don't want to contribute to the divisiveness that is trying to consume us.  I don't want to be part of the reason, as my 10 year old so poignantly said, we'll have another Tisha B'Av.  I felt undeniably vindicated after sharing this tale with my 16 year old daughter when she said "Good for you!" To me, that means I'm doing something right.  It means that my daughter has self respect and like her Mom, won't take these things lying down, or forcefully seated in the back of a bus.  I take solace in having done what I feel was the absolute right thing to do, as well as from the butterfly that flew past and then perched itself near me as I cried. 

Emotional Overload...

Some days are fantabulous, some make me wanna stick my head in the toilet, and others leave me feeling both.  Sometimes it feels like so much is going on, as though events are swirling in tornado-like winds with no end in sight.  Sometimes, I just need my Auntie M!

Let’s see.  The kids have all started school, making this our very first experience with the Israeli school system.  I’m grateful that none of them are entering pivotal school years (like senior year) so there’s an ounce less pressure there.  We saw our 8^th and 10^th graders off yesterday, our 11^th grader today, and by the time the hubby and I left our youngest’s 5^th grade class this morning, I was in tears.  Not hysterics, but tears of, well, I don’t know what. My baby is no longer a baby.  That cute, curious, dirty blond, curly haired child is taller than I and in the 5^th grade.  By the time we left his class I think the newness of everything had run up and bit me.  It was a mother moment I imagine many can relate to.

Things have settled down some since the protest insanity, but emotions are still running high.  We attended the opening ceremony, if you will, of the girls’ school (around the corner from our youngest) today and watched as things remained largely uneventful.  I have never seen the military on the first day of school, nor as many little girls it’s-the-first-day-of-school-do-you-like-my-new-shoes giddy faces.  A member of the Knesset spoke as well as the Rosh Yeshiva of Shaalei Torah (the head rabbi of this particular school system).  There were brief speeches, encouraging words, and an emphasis on venturing through the school year with G-D, Torah, Ahavat Yisrael (respect and love for other Jews), modesty, and faith.  It was a beautiful morning topped off by the singing of HaTikva (Israel’s National Anthem) and positive energy.  It still sickens me that all the hoopla happened and that so much reparation continues to be needed, but at least it was a good first day.

And then my work machinery freaked out!  The printer it seems, didn’t make it as successfully to Israel as say, the couches, and that makes me so very sad.  And frustrated.  And like I need a drink and a truck load of chocolate.  The phone keeps losing its VOIP connection and is taking my mind with it.  My e-mail receives messages from outside the network but can’t reciprocate.  Some times I think the computer gods have a vendetta against me.  And sometimes, I lose the energy to fight them.  Can I have some more chocolate now?

Oh yeah, a little more 'bout the kids.  Two of four think they like their schools, and the other two think their school is for ‘whack jobs.’  How quaint.  They are in a school for kids with ADHD, but not everyone ‘does’ their diagnosis quite the same.  And not every parent of children with said diagnosis will demand, despite gender, medication, and very real neuronal issues, that they best act like human beings if they want to enjoy the finer things in life.  I don’t do the ‘boys will be boys’ nonsense.  My boys will be big boys if they want to continue to be boys in this house, ADHD be damned!  I know that some days are really hard for them and that impulse control is not always a barrel of laughs.  But it pains me to hear that one of them was mooned today, that the other allowed the worst of his lack of impulse control to run amuck, and that everybody’s favorite four letter word can be heard ad nauseum.  Before you say, “But it’s Israel!  But it’s a religious school!”  remember that impulse control and bad manners don’t care what religion you are or where you live.  I wonder, if our problems can ignore boundaries, perhaps those at the heart of our protests can too?  

And then I realized that 9/11 is around the corner.  Like so many, I remember where I was when I heard the news, how I panicked about loved ones, and how I frantically called the East Coast to make sure they were all OK.  Occassional bouts of homesickness are now mixed with a pseudo desire to be in the States on 9/11/11, though I’m not at all sure what I think I’m going to miss by being here.  I felt the attacks far more as a Jew then an American, but seeing the American flag in the breeze touched my heart immeasurably.  I know that Israel will have footage and its own memorial programming; She certainly understands, all too well in fact, what it’s like to be attacked and exposed in naked vulnerability.  I suppose it all reminds me of my personal beliefs about where ’home’ is.  My home was “there” for so many years but I always knew that my HOME was ‘here.’ Sometimes my heart cries out for home while my soul convincingly reminds me that the US was but a path to this Land.  

I heard a song a few days ago by Carrie Underwood (WOW, can that girl sing!!) that spoke to (or sang to…) my thoughts about ‘home.’ I think I’ve always known where my home was, but was too afraid to acknowledge it.  Now I know… and that gives all the other stresses reasons to suffer through them.  There’s no place like HOME.  Take a listen.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LraOiHUltak