[Photo: Isranet]

July 3, 2008

Shalom!

As you have probably heard, yesterday there was a terror attack in Jerusalem, an attack I narrowly avoided. It was not the first time I have been close to the scene of an attack - and, sadly, the sight of paramedics and police cars rushing through the streets to help the wounded seemed all too familiar.

Each time I hear of a new terrorist attack I go through the same steps of initial shock and fear and then force myself to calm down so that I can call everyone I know to make sure they are okay. Although I have witnessed these dramatic and tragic scenes so many times, each new attack feels like my first. Today, three people were killed and over 60 others wounded by a terrorist on a rampage just three blocks away from my home.

The open market of “Machane Yehudah” is my grocery store. Nearly every day I walk the three blocks with my daughter and husband to buy the bread, cheese, and vegetables that we will use for the day. I know nearly everyone at the market and it truly feels like a community. We go to the same stands to buy our groceries and have grown very fond of the hustle and bustle that fills the narrow streets of this wonderful Jerusalem landmark which is often referred to as “the shuk” (the market).

When I got a phone call today that there was a terrorist attack right outside the shuk, my heart nearly stopped. I was in a pottery class and my husband was going to be doing the shopping for the day at the very place where the attack occurred. I picked up the phone and with shaking fingers dialed his number.  As the news of this attack spread across Jerusalem and Israel, I was one of thousands of people who were anxiously trying to reach loved ones to confirm that they were safe.  I can’t even bear to write the thoughts that were growing and breeding in my head as I kept hearing a busy signal.

After a time of repetitive dialing (which felt like hours) I finally got in touch with my dear husband. Thank God, he was safe and sound at home with our daughter. Saying that I was relieved is an understatement.

I sat down, collected my thoughts and thanked God that my family was safe. I then said Psalms for all of the families in Jerusalem who went through the same panic as I when they heard of the attack, yet did not have such a happy ending. 

Nearly 30 minutes after the terrorist attack occurred, it dawned on me that I had not yet spoken to my father to let him know that my family and I were okay. Again I tried dialing, but the lines continued to be busy with people trying to reach loved ones. Finally, after a few minutes of dialing his number on repeat, I heard a ring. My father immediately answered the phone and with a shaky voice asked me, “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?!”  I assured him that my family was all safe and it was only then he nearly broke down crying. “Thank God,” he screamed. “Thank God”, I agreed.

Israel is a very small country and we are all family here. Each person thanks God when their immediate family is safe, yet we mourn for the others. We all know that the people who were killed could have been any one of us and in a way, each time a Jew is killed here in Israel, a little part of us indeed dies with them.

With yearnings for shalom,

Yael