I’ve been much more removed from the news.
What began, 66 days ago as a compulsion to consume as much information as I could, has morphed into something of a task for me.
The war is in progress.
Our troops are in.
Between the seven of us in our family, we are personally connected to hundreds of soldiers in active combat units in Gaza and other war zones around the country.
Reading the news is personal.
Reading the news is scary.
This evening’s second headline is: 7 soldiers killed, pushing Gaza ground op toll to 104; fighting rages in Khan Younis.
The headline is followed by seven pictures of our fallen soldiers from yesterday.
The pictures are followed by their names.
The city, town, or village that they’re from.
The battalion they served in.
The chances that one of these data points will “hit close to home” is ever increasing.
So, when I scan the faces, and read the names, and read the towns, and their units…
I’m inhaling the whole time.
No matter who’s faces and names I encounter on my screen, there is never any relief.
It always a hard, sour swell in the pit of my belly.
It is always terribly sad.
I read anyway.
And then I do the only things I can do.
I let myself feel what has come to the surface.
I watch the Chanukah lights glow yellow into the darkness.
I spend time with my family.
Make some dinner.
And try to do the next right thing.
Grant complete healing for all who are injured.
Deliver relief for those in the tight grip of anxiety and trauma.
Grant our soldiers success in their missions.
Unleash an abundance of protective light to shelter our people and all those who stand with us.
Love and blessings to you all. xo