Waiting to hug Yael
Ironically, one of my most favorite projects that I’m working on right now is writing a curriculum about conflict. I usually write “silver lining” pieces — you know where everything is terrible but then you find a nice little hook to make everyone feel better. I think that’s how I usually see things. That nice hospital in Tzefat that helps injured Syrians. That guy who invented a way for paraplegics to walk again. You know, happy/sad.
I spent today working on the piece about ISIS (no happy there). I’m trying to make sense of the bigger picture and find ways to make it accessible to High Schoolers. I was working on the piece because David drew the short straw and was taking the day off work to bring Channan up to Haifa to get his hearing aid fixed (note for future blog post: why is there one place in the country that can fix things) So off they go. At the last minute, David decides to drive instead of taking the train. The train would have put them on the platform around the same time the stabbing there took place today.
This afternoon I turned my computer off (a very unusual occurrence) and hung out with Eitan and Dov. We played basketball, they tried to teach me some rather complicated Lego wii game which I failed at. We went outside with our dog and skateboards and roller blades. My friend with her super pregnant belly and super yummy baby hung out with us. It was 74 degrees.
And then conflict, which I like to pretend is only something I write about, began with a siren or two or three or ten. And then I called all my kids inside. Then whatsapp starts pinging and the crazy game we’ve created called “which website reports terrible things first” begins and you feel the fear creep in. Yael was under lock down at school… because it was 2 minutes away from the stabbing. Because at first report the girl killed was 14, Yael’s age. Now, although we do not the name of the girl stabbed, we know she was a bit older.
Roads are blocked in and out of the Gush. Yael finally walked in the door having been bussed home. I sobbed. Again, I’m astonished and humbled and heartbroken that Yael and her friends and her school knew just what to do. They sat down and made lists of every girl in the class, and in the school and made sure they knew where each and everyone was. They said tehillim. They cried.
But here’s the thing: this morning our plumber came to fix a blockage. This afternoon, he was stabbed in the face. I’m not sure what do with it all.