My little Israeli חיל

Tonight at 8:00pm, during ElyZ's bedtime routine, we heard the 60-second siren outside his window signifying the losses we commemorate on Yom HaZikaron. It's full name is יוֹם הזִּכָּרוֹן לַחֲלָלֵי מַעֲרָכוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל וּלְנִפְגְעֵי פְעוּלוֹת הָאֵיבָה. In English, it's a day dedicated to Israel's fallen soldiers and victims of terrorism.

I had been teaching my little two year old blondini about sirens (he's obsessed with fire trucks this week) and taught him that if he listens quietly (shhh...), he might hear a fire truck siren outside. At 8:00pm, the siren sounded and my husband and I stood up. ElyZ burst out crying so I picked him up and held him during those emotional moments. I wondered if he could feel the purpose of the siren...

I imagined the rest of the country, all the vehicles stopping on the highways and streets, people exiting their cars and standing at their side, people standing inside their homes, at bus stops, stopping any shopping or chatting and standing at attention... everywhere, every city, north to south, east to west.

Quiet in Tel Aviv.
Quiet in Jerusalem.
Quiet in Haifa.
Quiet in Be'er Sheva.
Quiet on the beach.
Quiet on the roads.
Quiet in the mountains.
Quiet... but for a sixty-second siren.

After ElyZ (and I) calmed down, he quietly asked if it was a fire truck siren and afterward I explained to him that the siren was for all of Israel's chayalim (soldiers). I explained how the chayalim keep us safe and protect our country of Israel. I taught my little Israeli to say todah chayalim and as I held him close, as he was laying quietly on me, breathing gently, with my arms wrapped around him, I imagined him six feet tall, blond, strong, wearing Israeli IDF green.

Wearing a beret.

Carrying an M-16.

In fifteen short years, my son will be receiving his papers from the army. That's not a lot of time to prepare yourself emotionally, to confront the reality of life here. The conflict that lies in your heart: the immeasurable fear that something might happen versus the almost-intolerable pride that goes along with who he will be and what he will do.

My son, my Israeli son, defending our country. 
My son, my Israeli son, defending his fellow Jews and our right to exist.
My son, my Israeli son, pride of his little brother, pride of my husband and me. 
My son, my Israeli son, may G-d please bless, protect, and keep him and all of the other Israeli soldiers.

My two sons (and any other children I will have) will be the backbone of this country and I will thank them for their service, just as I thank chayalim today. I cannot imagine the anguish of the families who have given the ultimate sacrifice and pray that I never have to...

To the families of the fallen soldiers and victims of terror:

המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים

May the Almighty comfort you among the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Selected Readings for Yom HaZikaron