Our son and daughter-in-law welcomed a beautiful baby boy into the family the week before Pesach. Mazal Tov! We were thrilled to be blessed with a new grandchild and to hear good news, especially during this unusual time. But after trying to stay as close to home as possible for the duration of the war, I realized I would now have to venture far beyond my comfort zone.
We ran to a children’s store to pick out some baby clothes. When we entered the parking lot, we heard an unusually loud boom, and the entire garage shook. We often experience booms and shaking, but this time it felt like something had landed right in the garage. Baruch Hashem, that wasn’t the case, but the experience was startling.
Driving is scary during this war, but how often does one get to meet a new grandson? So, off we went: T’hilim in hand and blankets in the trunk. I took some flak for the blankets, but it had been recommended to keep them nearby in case we had to pull over on the highway and lie on the ground. Blankets beat thorns and mud any day.
The way to the hospital was, baruch Hashem, uneventful. But on the way home, our phones blared with a warning signal. I immediately opened Waze; its crisis feature directed us to the nearest public shelter in a nearby moshav. There, we found a few people milling about, caught in that familiar, tense limbo – waiting to see if a siren would follow the phone’s warning. A man in the makolet confirmed the warning, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” he told us, “It’s only been a warning so far.” A woman drove up with her children, asking the same question we did. In the end, the siren never came.
The day after the birth, my son’s phone lit up with a message: time to go back to the reserves. He and my daughter-in-law were not surprised. There had been murmurings about this possibility for a while. The unit had even been given an earlier date that was canceled. So, they knew it was only a matter of time. They discussed it in advance and decided between themselves that he would join the unit when called. However, I was taken by surprise that he would go so shortly after the birth. The army would have understood had he chosen to skip this round, and my son would never have gone without his wife’s consent. When I asked her how she could agree to let him go so soon after giving birth, her answer was simple: “If am Yisrael needs us, we are there.”
Our son went to his base the day after the birth to deal with logistics. Then he was allowed to return home for Shabbos and the bris milah. The ride to the bris was smooth, baruch Hashem. The typically hour-and-a-half drive took under an hour – reduced traffic being one of the few perks of the war. Just as the bris milah began, a warning signal rang out. Nobody was disturbed by this as the entire event took place inside a miklat. The siren that wailed at the end didn’t garner much attention either. Guests were more interested in eating, socializing, and enjoying the simchah than in paying attention to the siren.
The day after the bris milah, which was also Leil HaSeder, my son joined his unit in Lebanon. He began the Seder in Israel with soldiers at his base in the north, then took a break to travel by convoy into Lebanon, crossing mountainous terrain far different from what he had experienced in Gaza. He finished the Seder on the other side of the border.
The chayalim, accustomed to their own family traditions, found themselves immersed in the customs of other groups: Ashkenazi and Sefardi. They shared new foods, and many were amazed to find that even in the field, the meals were kitniyos-free – down to the rolls made of potato starch.
The chayalim sang the tunes familiar to all. As they reached “B’chol dor va’dor omdim aleinu l’chaloseinu,” the words took on a different meaning. This was no longer a story from the past. Standing there, they were the ones actively eliminating the modern threats of those who seek to destroy us.
Please continue to daven for peace in Eretz Yisrael and for the success and safe return of all chayalim.
Suzie Steinberg, (nee Schapiro), CSW, is a native of Kew Gardens Hills and resident of Ramat Beit Shemesh who publishes articles regularly in various newspapers and magazines about life in general, and about life in Israel in particular. Her recently published children’s book titled Hashem is Always With Me can be purchased in local Judaica stores as well as online. Suzie can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and would love to hear from you.