Muesli Breakfast and Bomb Sirens

This morning I met up with an old friend named Moran Pe'er for breakfast.  It was a little surprising that I recognized her as soon as I saw her.  The last time I saw her, I was eight years old, nineteen years ago.  She lived in Oklahoma for a year and we became good friends during that time.  We used to draw cartoons together, specifically Tweety Bird.  When she left the country, to return to Israel with her family, we wrote letters for a few years later.  We'd draw cartoons on our letters.  She was always really great at it.  I never thought in a million years I'd ever go to Israel, so, admittedly I eventually stopped writing, and she likewise. 

The funny thing is that I didn't think of her until last week, after I'd already been here for a month and a half.  So I found her on facebook, asking if she wanted to meet up.  She was amazed and so we set up a meeting right away.  And she's moving out of Jerusalem in a week, so I just caught her before she was out of the city.  She is a teacher and mentor.  It turns out we have a lot in common and a lot of the same views.  Our conversation was wonderful and enlightening.  I think she's amazing. 

We talked for two and a half hours and then exchanged phone numbers and left, with the intention of meeting up again.  I've been thinking about her all day and how surreal this morning was.

Then I helped out for the youth bistro with Daniel and Daniela.  Only one youth came, so we ended up painting fish for the upcoming kid's camp.

After that, Daniela and I went to get pizza for the young adults meeting tonight.  While we were at the pizza place, we heard the sirens.  Seeing as we weren't near a bomb shelter, we went to the entrance and stared up at the sky.  Everyone else on the street just stopped and looked up.  I was looking one way when a woman next to us said, "Oh my God!"  I looked in her direction and saw a trail of smoke in the air.  Then I heard five blasts, four or five seconds apart from each other.  When they stopped, everyone just kept walking like nothing happened. 

That's when it really hit me, "this is real".  I had just heard real bombs exploding, intended for harm.  They were close enough to be heard, but far away enough to not affect the city.  I felt helpless.  These are coming at unexpected places at unexpected times.  That messes with your sense of security.  In the US, I had no concept of danger.  It was exciting and horrible all at the same time.  I hesitated to tell my family because I didn't want them to worry, but I also wanted to make sure they knew I was okay.

Here's the short version of the story (although I'm sure there's plenty more that I don't know): The thing that instigated this heightened activity was a kidnapping of three Jewish boys by Muslim terrorists.   They were found murdered.  A certain group of Jews were enraged and began rioting.  It was on the street just outside my apartment building.  During the day, it was merely a peaceful protest, with signs and yelling.  I saw the crowd, and heard the cries that came from it.  Then by nightfall, Jews were beating up Arabs who were getting off the train.  A few Arabs were stabbed.   The next day we found out that an Arab boy was found murdered and we all thought it was by Jews… but then we heard it was by Arabs because he leaked information.  The news story had incongruencies in it, so we didn't know what to think.

Since then (last week) there have been constant missiles launched at Israel, mostly in the South and other specific areas.  Now they're aiming at the center of the country, and some troops are coming up from out of the Mediterranean Sea (literally it's like a war movie.  They are walking onto shore from underwater and being thwarted by Israel's defenses).  Israel has been expertly intercepting dozens of missiles and kept so many attacks at bay.  Gaza is in particularly bad shape.  And the bad news is that ISIS (you'll have to look up this insane terrorist group) is in Gaza now.  People I've just met are already being called in (they are on reserve) to the military.  Moran is worried about her brother because he just joined the army (all Israeli's serve for two years in the army after high school.  It's mandatory).

So back to my day…  Others are apathetic because this is the reality of their life.  I am not desensitized yet, so all of this is shocking to me.  I didn't panic when sirens went off; I was just alert, and my senses were heightened.  But afterwards, I felt emotional and weepy. 

Daniela and I got our pizza and went to our young adults meeting.  Worship had a whole new meaning.  I was singing, "my hope is in you, Lord, all the day long.  I won't be shaken by drought or storm.  A peace that passes understanding is my song." and I was bawling.  I never meant those words so much.  And the comfort that it brought me to sing them was deeper than any other kind of comfort: deeper than the comfort of friends or family.  The truth of Matt's teaching--of how we have been made new in Christ--had a vibrancy that it didn't have before. 

But I feel I'm being a little dramatic.  Maybe I should be like an Israeli and toughen up…  however, I can't avoid feeling a tinge of shock and sadness at the reality of it.  I am not in despair, but I am not apathetic.  My whole concept of life has changed today.  And every ambulance and police siren has me a little on edge.  I have even been honing in on loud noises from outside, like when trucks drive by and the like.

I hear several voices in my head saying, "Susan, don't go to Israel.  It's dangerous," and, "Don't you think you picked the worst place to live in?" and phrases like that from family and friends who spoke to me before I came here.  It makes me feel a little guilty, and maybe worried that those people want to tell me, "I told you so."  I worry that those people might see me as reckless or naïve.  But I wasn't ignorant of the danger.  This was a choice Dustin and I made.  We can't explain our reasons for doing it, because to some it would make no sense.  We don't fully understand it ourselves except that it was something we felt we just had to do.  But I know that those people only said those things out of love and concern, and I know they are praying for me and loving me from home right now.

 I can't change the choices I made.  But I really do appreciate all the love and prayers that are being sent my way.  It is comforting to know that I have so many people who love me.  I've been contacted by people I haven't spoken to in years, telling me that they are praying for me and my safety.  It's a wonderful thing.  Those little notes mean the world to me.  It really does make a difference, and takes the edge off.  So, thanks for the love,  I really am blessed with amazing friends.

Here's the street on which the riots happened.  This is, of course, on Shabbat, when almost no one was out, except for a bunch of orthodox Jews who were walking and singing together.