When the Stomach Falls…

I’ve got to get cooking for Shabbat. I did the shopping but just heard that Chaim might be coming. We haven’t seen him in quite a while – he went to visit his family, there was the Pesach vacation. Time doesn’t make a difference when you love someone. This week was Elie’s birthday. On Facebook, a whole lot of people wished him well, but the simplest and most wonderful to see was Chaim’s simple “Happy birthday brother.”

So Chaim’s coming and I’ve got a running joke with him – he, like the other males of this family – love meat and so I try to make something – steak or whatever, when he comes. So, steak it is – if you’re reading this, Chaim, and wondering if you should come…the steak is marinating.

So, I typed that last post about Shmulik and figured I’d get to cooking. How many times have I mentioned that I’m addicted to the news? So I checked…

Early this morning, taking advantage of some fog in the area, a terrorist cut the fence and starting moving into Israel – armed, and ready to kill. He came across two units of soldiers – or perhaps just one. In the initial gunfight, a Golani soldier was killed. A second unit, this one artillery, returned fire and killed the terrorist.

An Israeli soldier died today – not because he attacked, but because he was attacked. What was in the mind of the terrorist, what he hoped to accomplished, I do not know. But as I read the news flash, my stomach fell and all I could think of is somewhere in Israel right now, there is a mother who will shortly bury her son.

I’m going to go make Shabbat now, cook my heart out for my sons. Chaim is coming and that makes it even more special…and somewhere now, someone’s life has been destroyed. She’s sitting there, hopefully surrounded by her family and her friends. I’m sure army people are with her but what does it matter – her life will never be the same. Her son is gone.

I’ll find my balance again before the others come for Shabbat. I’ll smile and know that I am so grateful for the blessings I have in my sons and my daughters, my adopted ones, those born to me, those who have married in, he who has paved the way for the next generation. But deep inside me, I’ll keep that piece that will cry for that mother, that father, that family.

We don’t yet know his name – only that he was serving as a combat soldier in the Golani Brigade. All I can do is wish comfort to his family and blessings on his memory for all he was and all he served.

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