Shabat, Shoshan Purim

 80 degrees today - cooler than yesterday, which topped 90 degrees.  Last night a full, blood moon, velvet sky dotted with stars that managed to shine through, despite the full and gloriously compelling moon. I sat outside and breathed in the moon and stars, the white blossoms on my clementine tree just beginning to boast their fragrance. 

Today I ate breakfast on my patio,  and enjoyed the shabat quiet. The cooing of birds, the hum of the bees flying in the kumquat and clementine trees. The bosmat is blooming, the begonias flow over the pots, the loouisa and mint are starting up again. Last year I planted one cutting of a shrub that deters mosquitoes - I do not know its name, but it has grown thick and lush, and now has purple flowers.  I really don't know whether it is because of the shrub or the season, but I am able to sit outside without being bitten alive.  So peaceful, so quiet. Every now and then a plane shrieks overhead, taking me out of my comforting state of denial. I am on a news 'fast.' The book I read is Amy Tan's "The Backyard Bird Chronicles" sent to me by a dear friend. Just for now, just for today I look at a tiny little worm squiggling in the air, suspended by goodness knows what, from the clementine tree. It is about 1/4" long and no more than 1/2 millimeter wide, and its body undulates vertically. I wonder what it is and what it is doing, and whether it will survive.

Just for now I imagine the planes I hear are people having fun in the flying field of a neighbouring moshav. Just for today I try not to think of the hostages, of their families, of what is happening in the West Bank, in Gaza, in Lebanon, in Syria. Just for today I do not think of Bibi and what he has done and is doing to us. I do not think of the Orange haired Monster, the South African madman, Putin, Orban - just for today the ever present tears and pain lie quiescent.

Just for today, for now, for this moment.

So Very Strange

 I have no idea of what it is that seems to have affected everyone.  Of course it could be related to March madness, 520 Days of War, 59 hostages still in Gaza, 35 of them declared dead, the changes in the weather, the Trumpian Muskan era - yes, any number of things, but all is so very odd.

A young student comes to me on Sundays at 2.15 for an english conversation lesson. She is always punctual, but last Sunday she did not arrive. This was not normal - I hadn't heard from her or her mother. I called reception to ask for her mother who works here. The receptionist told me she is ill and hadn't been to work.   Later that evening her mother sent me a whats app apologising profusely - the whole family was sick, and she had forgotten to let me know' She feels terrible because she is not usually like that.

Last Monday I took the shuttle to the Kupat Holim in Netanya on Monday, as I had an appointment at 10.30 a.m. When I got there the machine in the lobby that gives numbers was broken - or at least, it consistently spat out numbers for an ultrasound - I was not going for an ultrasound, nor were the men and women before and after me in line.  I went to the receptionist who wore a mask over her mouth, but not her nose.  She took my card and said, your appointment is on Wednesday, not today. It then dawned upon me  that I had mixed up the dates in my head and written them down in the american fashion of month first.  She said she would check whether the doctor could see me anyway, so I stood to the side. The woman after me in line handed in her card and the receptionist told her that her appt. is in April, not March.  Indignantly the woman shouted, "Nu, and what month are we in?"  "March" replied the receptionist in a remarkably patient manner . The doctor couldn't see me so I returned Wednesday.

I am in a knitting group and when I was there a woman sitting near to me told me she bakes bread and delivers it on Thursday evenings.  I ordered a loaf of sourdough bread - really looking forward to it. She delivered the bread Thursday as promised. I put it on my counter and continued with the spelling bee.  After half an hour she called me to say she is very sorry, but for the first time ever she had not put salt in my bread - she was going to come to change it. She drove over and handed me another packet. After she left I saw the paper packet had a man's name on it. I looked at the bread and it was totally different from the previous loaf - I didn't think salt would make such a difference, but shrugged and put it on the counter. I had to make genius at least, so I continued with the spelling bee.  About an hour later there was a knock on my door.  The same woman, saying she gave me the wrong bread - it was gluten free - not sourdough and was for someone else!

It feels like everyone is acting just a little crazy.  

Missed appointments, small errors - not really terrible - just signs of a nation, I think, that is traumatized and stressed. Ministers are fired - army chiefs changed. The judicial coup goes on.  In the macro - this IS terrible - a world out of balance, one day a law is made, half an hour later it is broken, changed  Decisions to have a ceasefire made, broken, violated - no way ahead of us, broken promises and ruins behind and around us.  

Well, the bread when I finally ate it was delicious.  It is the small things that count.

No words left

 The forensic examiner confirmed that the bodies of the two red haired angels, Kfir and Ariel, were those returned.  However, the mother Shiri was not returned - they (Hamas) sent the body of another woman. No one that can be identified by our forensic team.  Where is Shiri's body? Why wasn't it returned with those of her children?

This cruelty and torture knows no bounds.  The response of who and what is left of the Bibas family is that they want ALL the hostages released.  They are not shrieking and crying for vengeance like those lunatics in charge.

God, if there is such a thing, PLEASE hear our cries.

Day 503

 

                                                                         SORRY

We are so very sorry that today you have come home in coffins

We are so very sorry that you were taken as hostages

We are so very sorry that the 7th of October 2023 happened, and no one was there to protect you

We are so very sorry, Shiri, that your parents were murdered that day

We are so very sorry that your husband was taken as a hostage

We are so very sorry that when he came back on February 1st, he returned alone

We are so very sorry that there are still 73 hostages in Gaza

We do not know whether they will be returned. We ssuspect that  this war with no end is going to begin again. The war that has not resolved a thing.  The war that has left nearly 50,000 dead.  

We do know that we have been abandoned by those in charge, who are meant to serve and protect us.   Our wonderful young people  have been killed, wounded, traumatised.  The entire nation is traumatised. It is too much to bear.  We cry, we hurt, we bleed.  We plead for a diplomatic solution to end this unending cycle of violence. We do know that this is very very hard. We know those in charge have no desire to end this horror.  We have to stand up to them and to all of those whose only wish is to kill and destroy.

Somehow, sometime, this HAS to end.

We are so very sorry.

Unbearable

 I recall that at some time in the past few years I published an entry about how my vocabulary has dwindled to two words.  This happened when covid began - my only word then was "unbelievable", and as everything deteriorated I found another word - "horrendous".  Since the first return of the hostages (my last blog entry), I now have another word - "unbearable". 

The situation in which we find ourselves is unbearable.  I quite literally find it hard to breathe. The return on Saturday of the three men has fallen upon us as darkness on the face of the aching land. The dreadful suffering - the realities to which they have returned - murdered partners, murdered children, burned out homes - a country torn apart.  A prime minister who DOES NOT CARE, a terrorist enemy who can not be vanquished. We know this is not over.  Another round is coming.  I wish this were not true.  Please let me be wrong.

I feel that we are all just going through the motions of living . Tears are ever present.  Everyone is on a tight fuse. BRING THEM HOME.   This is what religion is supposed to be built upon  - the saving of lives. The saving of those innocents who were ripped from their homes and families - they were just living their lives.  And noone was there to protect them.  Where was the army? Where were those who are duty bound to protect their citizens?  They knew - they had been told of what was coming.  

This is UNBEARABLE.

January 19, 2025

The entire country awoke Sunday morning with bated breath, anxiety, hope, fear.  Will they return, won't they. Who are they? We know three girls, but then Bibi said until we get the names they won't be returned. Ben Gvir resigned. Smotrich stated the war HAS to continue.  Then the names were released and from 5 p.m. the entire country, except for those who had gone to the streets to receive them, was glued to the TV. 

The first glimpse of them darting, on their own two feet, from the Hamas car to the red cross car, surrounded by Hamas PROTECTING them, was for me, and I think everyone, like an internal stopper had been pulled and all the sorrow, grief, anxiety, fear, despair, anger disbelief of the last 471 days was released.  My tears did not stop, I could not, and did not, want to stop them.

Three beautiful young women have been released and are now surrounded by love and caring.  And again, we wait - who next? Dead or alive? Will the ceasefire hold? Just an hour before I wrote this sirens blared, but then we were immediately informed that they are being tested.  I am not sure my system can withstand this, but it will.  All of our systems will, like they have up to now.

                                                            we are waiting for you

2025

 

The doorway to 2025.