We had our first siren this morning. We live 80 miles from Gaza, but the “boom” from our fortified room in the basement was unmistakable. They don’t tell us where the missiles fall for security reasons, nor do we know if the “boom” is the Iron Dome in action.
People are asking if my family and I are ok. The quick answer is yes. We weren’t dragged from our beds and violently murdered, and we didn’t see our children handcuffed and set on fire. We didn’t watch terrorists behead our babies and neither my daughters nor I weren’t brutally raped next to the bodies of our dead friends. Our homes weren’t burnt to the ground with us and everything we own inside them. We didn’t have to choose between dying of smoke inhalation or being burnt alive or coming out of shelters and being shot by terrorists. We weren’t forced to sit in fortified rooms for hours and hours with terrorists outside looking for us so they could kill us. We weren’t shot execution style begging for our lives. We didn’t learn of the death of a loved one from a photo of their beaten, bloody body posted on their Facebook page by terrorists using their personal cellphone. We weren’t dragged from our beds and kidnapped to Gaza. So why shouldn’t we be ok?
However, I am really NOT ok. I am not ok because all of these things happened (according to witness accounts!) to people just like you and me. Whole families were slaughtered. Entire communities were all but wiped out. Survivors no longer have homes. People are being held against their will in Gaza! These were people who loved their homes and their lives. They lived in beautiful green communities we used to visit on a Saturday drive or when we wanted to have nice nature walk. Many made their living from agriculture, working the land, raising their families, and trying to live a quiet, peaceful life. Just like you and me.
I am not ok because these atrocities happened to friends and family of people I know. Everyone – but EVERYONE — knows someone who was killed, injured, rescued, or taken to Gaza. We are a small country where everyone really does know everyone.
I am not ok because my Facebook feed is filled with obituaries and pictures of people who were kidnapped to Gaza and endless videos and photos taken by Hamas terrorists during their reign of terror and, later, by security services of the aftermath. I am posting a photo of a child’s bedroom taken in the aftermath of the massacre as an example of what makes me not ok. (I’m sorry if it also makes you not ok but this is the reality.) I am not ok because I keep hearing story after story of people’s lives who will never ever be the same.
I am not ok because I see our hardest, toughest journalists break down when they try to tell us what they’ve seen and the stories they’ve heard from survivors. Journalists who have covered wars in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, and other places say they have never seen anything so horrific, so barbaric.
I am not ok because I went to another funeral of a fallen soldier today, the second in three days. This time it was the son of my British-born friend, Liz. Her son, Benji, was a much loved and well-respected 32-year-old career army officer set to be married in April. Liz was fiercely proud of him and justifiably so. He died trying to save others and his commanders said that he saved the lives of dozens of people through his bravery and heroism. His fiancée described their deep love – so deep that she said she would look for him again in the next world. I cried. I hugged Liz. I really had no words of comfort to offer.
My heart is bleeding and I don’t sleep well, if at all. I’m terrified. But not for myself. I am terrified for our soldiers on the front line and for our hostages – men, women, CHILDREN, GRANDMOTHERS! — being held in heaven knows what conditions in Gaza. I ache for their families who don’t know what will become of them.
But one thing is for sure. We must not waiver in our determination to eliminate Hamas. The whole world knows now that Hamas is ISIS and no one is safe if this murderous barbaric terror organization is allowed to exist.
My friends and family are asking if there is anything they can do. There is. Continue to support Israel even when you start seeing photos from Gaza of difficult humanitarian conditions. Please know that we as a people take no pleasure in the Gazan people’s suffering. But this time we need to finish the job.
People say the situation in the Middle East is complicated and that they sit on the fence with what is going on. Well, it’s really not complicated and there is only one “right” and “just” side of the fence to sit on. We must destroy Hamas’ infrastructure and their weapons which they strategically hide among their most vulnerable populations. There are casualties on both sides, but if I have to choose, I choose safety and security for my own people who have lived under the threat of Hamas missiles for years. Today this massacre happened in Israel. If Hamas is not wiped off the face of the earth, it could happen somewhere else tomorrow. Maybe in your neighborhood. Really. We didn’t believe in our wildest dreams that such an atrocity could happen here.
On the upside, I am encouraged by the hundreds of young Israelis from all over the world who are jostling for limited spaces on El Al planes flying to Israel. They are coming home to help fight this war. I am proud of the literally thousands of grassroots volunteer efforts that have popped up to offer assistance to families who have been displaced and to support soldiers at the front. I am proud of my countrymen and women who are resilient, fierce, brave and determined. I am a proud American (thank you, President Biden for your support) and I am also proud to be Israeli.
So I’m not ok, but I’m ok. And I expect that I will feel this way for a long time to come.
