Garden Therapy

Dawn breaks. Birds sing their morning praise and crickets keep a steady song. The fall air is crisp like fresh mint, offering welcome relief from a blazing hot summer. Yet fighter jets fly non-stop overhead, a constant rumble above. 

It has been a week since the massacre of my people, an atrocity the Jewish people have not experienced since the Holocaust. However, this time, it happened to Jews in their own homeland; they were butchered while sleeping in their own beds, captured while preparing festive meals for beloved family in their own kitchens, pleading for mercy while their children were mutilated in front of them.

And so the butchers systematically went from one house to the next, killing mercilessly, pulling their captives by the hair, continuing their bloodbath for nine hours until the Israeli army finally arrived. 

Then they turned their violent efforts on our soldiers, brave young men who had no idea what had happened to their brothers and sisters. They killed many Israeli soldiers, including two heroes, sons of family friends. The bloodbath continued with rockets on the civilian population as the army jumped into action, recruiting thousands of soldiers and reservists. 

One week later, the Arabs are rioting in Judea and Samaria, while Hezbollah infiltrates the northern border with Lebanon. To the east, Palestinians on the Jordanian side are trying to climb the fence. 

This is an existential nightmare. Everyone I know has lost someone dear. They kidnapped the wife and two children of our next door neighbor’s close friend. On Friday, my son was at the shiva of his rabbi’s brother, a high-ranking officer who was killed in battle. Another neighbor’s nephew was killed while fighting for our safety. We are hoping to travel to Raa’nana today to pay a shiva call to friends who lost their beautiful son. No words. 

More horrific details are released daily, revealing inhumanity. I would not even call these terrorists subhuman as this word incorporates “human.” Animals don’t even treat their enemies this way. It is pure evil. And this is how I understand that it is a fight of good over evil. Those who side with the perpetrators are themselves voting with evil. 

It looks like this battle will encompass the world. Iran, whose dirty hands are all over this, is now saying it will intervene if Israel enters Gaza. Meanwhile, the US is placing another battle ship on the coast. Is this it? The prophesied Gog and Magog?

As Amir says, we have front row seats and he is right. As some Israelis pour out of the country like war refugees, others fly in to fight. 

We hunker down. As we do not have a bomb shelter within a 30-second run (yes, we have 30 seconds to run from safety when a rocket is, G-d forbid , launched from the north), we made an improvised safe room with water, mattresses, chairs, and a kettle.

There is a box by the front door with necessities like instant coffee, a change of clothes and random things like apples, pretzels, diaper wipes and a bucket. So far (aside from one terrifying siren with reports that Hezbollah terrorists were flying above in ultralight planes and had overtaken the nearby gas station), it has been quiet in our neck of the woods. I am aware the situation in the north could change in a heartbeat and it is already happening.

The strangest things keep me calm - like an orderly kitchen, folding laundry, and sweeping the floors. Every time I unload the dishwasher, I wonder if this is it, the last time I put away my cutlery.  Such thoughts offer me an appreciation for how good and blessed my life has been.

A long, hot shower I cannot have; I am always conscious that a siren could go off when I am covered in suds, knowing I have just 30 seconds to scramble and get out. Every time a child leaves the house, I say ‘I love you’ and mean it deeply. The list goes on, turning into a quirky prayer of gratitude whispered every second of the day. 

My greatest solace and therapy is my garden. I spend hours outside planting new seedlings and weeding with veracity as if I am uprooting an enemy, clearing my tiny piece of land of invaders and danger. I planted lettuce, mizuna, beet leaves, celery, tat soi, and parsley. 

I am preparing a new bed for cactus and succulents, filling wheel barrow loads of earth from the back, dumping it, then spreading is gently and evenly with my hands, appreciating the feel of the life-affirming soil. I made a raised bed for strawberries and then gently planted ten, patting the earth around them so they are snug. 

We now have a seed table complete with overhead misters. I took out seed containers, made a soil mix, then seeded trays of winter crops, one seed at a time. It was a type of meditation focused on bringing life, sustainability, and a nourishing future. I seeded Chinese kale, coriander, broccoli, Ethiopian kale, scarlet kale, rocket, garden peas, fragrant peas, snow peas, red beets, yellow beets, colored carrots, Turkish spinach, red Swiss chard, Japanese mustard, and black radish.

And two days later, the rocket (the vegetable version, not the weapon), Chinese kale, and peas sprouted, a sweet and gentle affirmation that yes, there is a tomorrow. It is a sign that life continues despite the stress, onerous threat and intense difficulties. We must do, we must trust, and we must pray. 

I am now in the car with Amir and Shaya looking for equipment for soldiers. Rockets are flying in the north and the south, while rain is pelting across the country, our first downpour since March. The shelves of many outdoor stores are empty but we found some important items, filling our car with woollen socks, long underwear, shirts, ponchos, rain pants, tents, and battery packs. 

And so we go on, like those seedlings finding the strength to poke their head through the earth, then reach up to the skies for rain and sun, their nourishment. 

We are also doing what we can on the ground, while beseeching G-d above for a speedy end to this and a return to peace, goodness, and humanity.