Building Blocks

Often, here in Israel, tears of sadness fall, meeting up with tears of joy. From tragedy, hope is built. When terror strikes, people here often pick up the bitter pieces and then try to mend the world. There are many organizations here that were established by families who lost loved ones to terror.

Yesterday, I read of a new angle on this. A young nurse, Ally Schiff, made aliyah with Nefesh B’Nefesh last week. She was greeted at the airport with song and dance, tears of joy. Yet Ally's motivation to be here was to honor the memory of a nurse who was tragically killed by a terrorist.

Dafne Meir was stabbed to death on January 17 at her home in Otniel. This happened in front of three of her six children.  Her murderer? A 16 year old Palestinian who was known to the family. He took a meat knife from his home, killed her in cold blood, returned to his parents saying nothing, then fell asleep in his bed.

This is incomprehensible, haunting and disturbing. The tragedy that befell the Meir family will never leave their thoughts and lives. Ever. 

Not only was Dafne a wonderful wife and mother to six young children, she was a well-respected nurse at Soroka Hospital who caringly treated Jews and Arabs alike. She found her job very meaningful and even composed a prayer about seeing G-d’s hand in healing while she was studying for an exam on neurosurgery. She kept this private prayer in her locker at the hospital.

When Ally Schiff heard of Dafne’s death, she was completing nursing school at Johns Hopkins University. She was so moved by Dafne, she decided to make aliyah and work as a nurse in Israel to help continue the work that Dafne did.

She met Dafne’s husband Natan a few days her arrival at the Kotel. Ally prayed at the wall, then recited Dafne’s prayer, explaining her desire to make a difference here in Israel in the memory of this wonderful woman.

Modest, loving and kind. We can see the beauty of Dafne's soul in Dafne's own words.

"May it be Your Will, Creator of the world, He Who manages it with mercy and loving kindness, to grant me the ability to give medications to Your people in need of salvation, and also to the members of other nations who are in the devoted care of your faithful messengers, who continue their holy work day and night, on the Sabbath and holidays, without letup.

"Grant that I understand, remember and realize, that the medications are a gift from You, and their efficacy is Your message to us. 

"Grant that I view and feel joy at their beneficial influence of the medications I, mercifully, can give those who are ill.

"Grant me the ability to concentrate when giving out these medicines, to understand the way each acts on disease.

"Grant that I notice in time any of my errors or those of my colleagues when handing out medications, and that I act quickly to correct the errors before the medication enters the body of the patient.

"Grant that I act with modesty, learn and teach others about the successes and failures in giving medication.

"Grant that I give medications to the sick from a position of good health and that I remember to be grateful that I myself do not have to take them.

"Grant that I learn to have empathy, although in good health, with the patient's suffering and help him with all my ability every day and every hour, using the tools that You have given me.

"Amen."

Dafne’s beautiful prayer has since been translated into many languages and has reached out to many, including the Christian world.

As Natan said to Ally when they first met, leaving one’s family and familiar surroundings is a huge step.

I am in complete admiration of Ally and wish her much success. May she be an inspiration for people to live in Israel, and may others  follow Ally’s selfless initiative, making aliyah to honor the memory of the many Israeli terror victims who led fulfilled, meaningful, beautiful lives such as Dafne Meir.

Natan explained to Ally that her aliyah is “another building block for the country.”  

This is a video published in May in memory of Dafne Meir, may her memory be a blessing.

Building Blocks

Often, here in Israel, tears of sadness fall, meeting up with tears of joy. From tragedy, hope is built. When terror strikes, people here often pick up the bitter pieces and then try to mend the world. There are many organizations here that were established by families who lost loved ones to terror.

Yesterday, I read of a new angle on this. A young nurse, Ally Schiff, made aliyah with Nefesh B’Nefesh last week. She was greeted a the airport with song and dance, tears of joy. Yet Ally's motivation to be here was to honor the memory of a nurse who was tragically killed by a terrorist.

Dafne Meir was stabbed to death on January 17 at her home in Otniel. This happened in front of three of her six children.  Her murderer? A 16 year old Palestinian who was known to the family. He took a meat knife from his home, killed her in cold blood, returned to his parents saying nothing, then fell asleep in his bed.

This is incomprehensible, haunting and disturbing. The tragedy that befell the Meir family will never leave their thoughts and lives. Ever. 

Not only was Dafne a wonderful wife and mother to six young children, she was a well-respected nurse at Soroka Hospital who caringly treated Jews and Arabs alike. She found her job very meaningful and even composed a prayer about seeing G-d’s hand in healing while she was studying for an exam on neurosurgery. She kept this private prayer in her locker at the hospital.

When Ally Schiff heard of Dafne’s death, she was completing nursing school at Johns Hopkins University. She was so moved by Dafne, she decided to make aliyah and work as a nurse in Israel to help continue the work that Dafne did.

She met Dafne’s husband Natan a few days her arrival at the Kotel. Ally prayed at the wall, then recited Dafne’s prayer, explaining her desire to make a difference here in Israel in the memory of this wonderful woman.

Modest, loving and kind. We can see the beauty of Dafne's soul in Dafne's own words.

"May it be Your Will, Creator of the world, He Who manages it with mercy and loving kindness, to grant me the ability to give medications to Your people in need of salvation, and also to the members of other nations who are in the devoted care of your faithful messengers, who continue their holy work day and night, on the Sabbath and holidays, without letup.

"Grant that I understand, remember and realize, that the medications are a gift from You, and their efficacy is Your message to us. 

"Grant that I view and feel joy at their beneficial influence of the medications I, mercifully, can give those who are ill.

"Grant me the ability to concentrate when giving out these medicines, to understand the way each acts on disease.

"Grant that I notice in time any of my errors or those of my colleagues when handing out medications, and that I act quickly to correct the errors before the medication enters the body of the patient.

"Grant that I act with modesty, learn and teach others about the successes and failures in giving medication.

"Grant that I give medications to the sick from a position of good health and that I remember to be grateful that I myself do not have to take them.

"Grant that I learn to have empathy, although in good health, with the patient's suffering and help him with all my ability every day and every hour, using the tools that You have given me.

"Amen."

Dafne’s beautiful prayer has since been translated into many languages and has reached out to many, including the Christian world.

As Natan said to Ally when they first met, leaving one’s family and familiar surroundings is a huge step.

I am in complete admiration of Ally and wish her much success. May she be an inspiration for people to live in Israel, and may others  follow Ally’s selfless initiative, making aliyah to honor the memory of the many Israeli terror victims who led fulfilled, meaningful, beautiful lives such as Dafne Meir.

Natan explained to Ally that her aliyah is “another building block for the country.”  

This is a video published in May in memory of Dafne Meir, may her memory be a blessing.

11 things I learned after 11 years in Israel

As yesterday marked my 11th-year anniversary of making aliyah to Israel, here's 11 observations about life here.

1. The weather is amazing. Day in. Day out. Pure sunshine and heat. Ahhh. For a former sun-deprived Canadian, I just can’t get enough.  Ever. It is so bright here, I feel the urge to put on sunglasses when I open the blinds each morning.

2. You must learn to drive at high speed in reverse here. The roads can get so congested and the drivers can become so stubborn, someone has to give in. And the only way out of such a mess is to drive in reverse….unless someone is behind you and if this is the case, prepare to wait a while. Blast the music as the honking will quickly get out of control.

3. Cars reverse and shopping carts go sideways. Yep. As not one cart can be steered in a straight line, we shop sideways here. And when that cart is full and you need to get across the parking lot to your car, watch out.

4. Do not expect water when you arrive at a restaurant. There is nothing more refreshing that getting a cold glass of water when you sit down at a table, sipping as you peruse the menu. Just forget it. You can order a five-course meal but you must still ask for water. Or stay parched.

5. Avoid the post office like the plague. After over a decade here, I still dread visits to the post office. Case in point: we received a card that we have a parcel to be picked up from the post office. It did not specify which branch and the hours stamped on the card were wrong. After a second attempt in a line up of a half hour, we were told that the pick up was not there but was in the supermarket. Who ever decided to stock mail with melons and mandarins? (We once picked up mail at the back of a candy store and when we went back there a few months later to get mail, the candy store cashier looked at us as if we should be committed to the loony bin.)

6. Be ready to hold a stranger’s baby. In what other country would a mother confidently place her loving bundle of joy in a total stranger’s arms? I heard this so many times, I thought it was an urban myth….until my daughter got off the bus at 11pm in Givat Shmuel last week. “Slicha,” she heard and when she turned around, a woman delivered a baby into my 15 year old's arms while she went to get the stroller from the bus storage. Guess we really are all family.

7. If someone yells at you, they do not mean it. This has taken me 11 years to get used to and I still want to cry. People will get up really close and start to yell. Except they are not yelling…they are just talking loudly. Why? It’s the Middle East.

8. Israelis love to chill out in crowds. When it’s time to relax and be one with nature, do not follow an Israeli (instead, read the last tip below). Israelis will be heading to the centre of a crowd or straight into a traffic jam or to a beach filled with matkot players, beach volleyball, soccer games and trance music. Duck and watch out!

9. Hummus is a serious food here. We now cannot eat a meal without hummus on the table and have become such connoisseurs, we boil our own chickpeas and make it at home…except it’s never as silky or velvety as the hummus they make down the road—we asked them why and they refuse to divulge their culinary secret.

10. Israelis grocery shop by parking their carts at the check out and then filling them up. (As the carts move sideways, this is a doubly efficient strategy--see point 3.) Israelis hate standing in lines and why waste a moment?

11. The above are what I learned, yet there is one paramount thing I did not learn. I did not learn Hebrew. In fact, the crumbs of Hebrew I have seem to be drying up. Living in Ra’anana does not improve one’s Hebrew. When people hear my accent and ask me when I arrived, I always say “higati b’kayitz” (I arrived in the summer) and I get that warm ‘welcome to Israel’ smile. They needn’t know I arrived in the summer 11 years ago.  TMI.

I look forward to the next 11 years and offer one tip to those seeking Israeli bliss: drop your matkot bat, park your shopping cart, pack up some hummus and head to the desert.

Nocturnal Surprises

Summertime….and the living is sticky. I live in a sauna. The air in Ra'anana is soupy thick, burning, as if the lid were taken off a giant, simmering stew. So we steam, feeling lethargic.

I love running yet find I cannot breathe, I can hardly place one foot in front of the other even to walk to the couch. I can no longer relax in the garden and must now watch my outdoor plants from inside, as if watching fish in an aquarium. The flowers wilt in the breezeless air.

So when Amir suggested we get away to camp in the desert, I looked at him and twitched, already feeling a prickly sweat drip down my neck.  

As he eagerly packed up the gear, (including his brand new ultralight tent cleverly suspended by hiking poles), I checked the desert weather forecast. I never do this as July weather in Israel is usually hot and sunny, hot and sunny, then hotter and still sunny.  

To my surprise, the day temperatures in the centre of Israel matched those in the south. The night temperatures in the south were 21 degrees celsius, while they hovered at 28 degrees in the Tel Aviv area. I looked at humidity: 65% in Tel Aviv; 20% in Mitspe Ramon. Now I was interested.

We drove south in the dark, the air conditioning blasting in the car. Around Be'er Sheva, realizing the air temperature was cooler, we opened our windows and sucked in clean, dry, cool air. 

We continued south towards Sde Boker and down into Nahal Zin, where we would pitch our tents in the dark.

Stepping from the car my daughter gasped, “The stars!”

We looked up and saw a multitude of twinkling lights across dark velvet. Silence. Cool, clean air.

“Ahhh,” we sighed.

We perched on a mat atop the sand as shooting stars streaked by so closely, I felt I could reach out to touch them.  We had front seats at nature’s very own fireworks show. 3D surround sound, yet smoother. A white mountain loomed in front of us and jackals shrieked, their cries echoing off canyon walls. 

 

Our dog, who’s used to retiring for the night atop an Oriental carpet, looked at us confused, stressed. “What is this?” he seemed to say, curling up on the thin mat. “Where is this?” he wanted to say, pawing the sand.

We patted his head reassuringly, then slipped into our sleeping bags in our cozy tents, totally convinced this was the 'best value for money lodging' with the most superb view.

Ever.

That is, until the jackals surrounded us and started to howl. One howled and the other answered. They had us surrounded. The Oriental carpet dog instinctively abandoned his urban self and stood upright in the tent, demanding out. Now. 

He ran into the darkness and all I could imagine was that he became dinner for the pack. Fast food from an urban takeout.  All I could hear were paws scraping, sand flying, howls. And then silence.

I peeked outside and saw a white form curled into the sand. Was it a rock or a dog? Was he alive or an appetizer? I was too chicken to investigate and as soon as I thought I had fallen back to sleep, I heard an even eerier sound. A flute and then loud, plaintive singing. In Arabic.

As the notes echoed across the canyon, I sat upright, trying to wake my husband in the next tent. It was like one of those nightmares when you try to scream and no sound comes out.  I wanted to wake him up yet did not want the 'singer' to hear me lest I too become an appetizer.

I thought about my large bed at home with my duvet and air conditioning and house alarm and en suite bathroom with electric lighting and streetlights outside and maybe police and everything so known and so predictable and so normal.

I grunted towards my husband’s fancy ultralight tent. Again. Teeth clenched, I  asked, “What is that?”

“A ghost,” he mumbled. “And stop waking me up.”

I looked at my watch, praying for daylight to come soon. 3:59 am. The sky was as dark as ever. I knew this was the last night of Ramadan. Was this song a farewell prayer to Ramadan? Was this a shepherd calling to lost goats?

I pondered until the notes stopped. And then the birds started to chirp.

“Coffee? I grunted to the form in the fancy ultralight tent next to ours.

 

And so the day began. As I stepped out of the tent to a fresh, new morn, I was thankful to have survived.  Even the Oriental urban dog was alive and wagging his tail like his old playful self. No hard feelings from a Labrador.

As I sipped my coffee, the sun churned the eastern sky tangerine and candy floss. The air was so cool, I actually needed an extra layer.  I thought of a July Ra’anana morn, where the sauna is never in the off position. 

In the distance, I saw a couple jogging from Midreshet Ben Gurion down to the desert floor. Nice. I could do that. 

We packed up the car and drove our 4X4 deep into the desert to Ein Ekev, a large oasis with a cold pool of water. We jumped into the fresh water and looked up at a deep blue desert sky. 

Yes, the desert is actually a better place to be in summer than central Israel. And why has it taken me eleven years to figure this one out?

This beautiful country is filled with hidden gems and nocturnal surprises.