When Russians drink "le-chayim", they toast : "To Peace!". Or, "To clear skies!"
Growing up, we knew that war is the worst evil that there is. Watching the black and white chronicles of the Great Patriotic War, we saw huge explosions creating craters in the ground, soldiers getting covered in dust and blood. Orphans with dark streaks on their cheeks, and hunger. That's the picture of war as I always had it in my mind.
When my mother hold her hands to her heart and regrets "moving to a warring country", I know she is seeing those pictures in her mind. Pictures of her childhood, Messerschmidt aeroplanes with crosses on their wings, bearing death, and constant gnawing hunger. All my life we had cans stocked up in rows, "in case of a war". Sugar would turn into a rock, and grains would crawl away before we could get to them. There was always this huge fear, a fear of war, underlying so many things, coming through like a shadow, and coming out as tears with the first notes of "Arise, oh mighty country" march on the 9th of May.
Naturally, when I realized that the terrifying monster called War was brushing us with it's wing, I felt like crawling under the table and never coming out. What?? My children?? Under rockets? You've got to be kidding me!
For a bit, I just let the fear take over. Every time I was in an open space, I would plan where I could run if the siren would sound now. There is no point denying it - with the first low rumble of that warbling wail my heart would take this huge leap right into my toes. It's a purely biological reaction to danger, it happens before I have even one solid thought about it. And then I calmly grab the children and drag them to the safe room, hoping they can't hear my heart pounding through my t-shirt, louder than the siren in my ears.
And then there is the media. The media carries words, and images. I see the greatness of our people, and I feel the lump in my throat getting bigger, and my eyes sting. It's a different face to a war. It's a face of greatness of our people.
When Jews go out to war, we hand our enemies medicines, offer them blood donated by our people, for their wounded, we warn them - do you hear? Warn our enemies that we are coming to attack. We continue to provide them with gas, water, electricity. We don't cut their internet, and their phones stay plugged. We continue to operate and save the lives of their sick children... it goes on.
The greatness of our people. The wave of chessed. Cookies for soldiers, and people opening their houses to families from
the South. People they don't know from Adam. In their house. Our people.
The songs and cartoons made for the little children, who are scared of sirens. Immediately, from today to tomorrow - it's there. Women keep on saying, we don't have to explain anything to our children - they understand. They know they will not have a summer vacation this year, there will be no pool, trips or BBQ. And they accept it without a word! Our famously spoiled little Israelis accept it. The greatness begins and ends with the children.
I think about my beautiful country, cowering in fear, the elderly stumbling on stairs when they run for the shelter, mothers covering children with their bodies, and tears choke me. Our people. My beautiful Ashdod. Proud and elegant Tel Aviv. Endlessly brave and patient Sderot. Ancient and ever-young Jerusalem. How dare they?!!
We are an endlessly strong people. We have lasted out bigger evils than Hamas. They're all gone, and we're still here, in our ancient Land. We came back to claim it as ours and hold onto it forever.
400 French Jews made Aliya this week. Now, with the rockets and all, they come off the plane and kiss the dust of this Land, soaked with our presence, the Land where every rock weeps for its children, breathes and hopes with us. And whatever befalls all of us, is good enough for me, too. It's a privilege to be here, to see, to hope, to accept and pray with everybody. I am not so afraid anymore - I take strength from this tremendous sense of unity. From the fact that life carries on as usual - couples going out for walks, zumba and shopping and kiddies playing in the park. It's a different kind of a war. Shigrat herum - emergency routine. Israel is still the safe, cozy home it always was for me.
The commentators on the news say it openly - another miracle. We have no explanation. Miracle. Again and again.
I will end it with a Russian toast - "To peace. To clear skies." - and a Jewish one - "to life". May all of our soldiers come back safely. May God be with us all. May the miracles keep on coming.
