We had a lovely shabbat.
Just us for dinner.
Went to bed early.
Woke up slowly.
Took my time.
I said my prayers unhurried, enjoyed the feel of the words in my mouth
and their sound as I spoke them out loud.
I read.
Played hide and seek with Harley.
Went for a long, beautiful walk out the back gate with Shahar.
We had a bunch of friends and their kids over for lunch.
We had tacos and chamin.
It was perfect.
Took a nap.
Played backgammon with Shishi.
Sat and chatted with a beloved friend.
It was lovely.
All of it.
Still riding that peaceful shabbat vibe, I take out my phone.
I open my news app.
I read the first headline.
“IDF troops mistakenly open fire and kill 3 hostages in northern Gaza battlefield”
The full weight of it lands in my heart like a mortar on wet earth.
I am incapacitated.
I quite literally don’t know what to do with myself.
Hurt engulfs me like a weighted blanket.
It takes over.
I let it.
I go back to the news.
Read as much as I can.
I haven’t moved from my spot on the couch.
My friend, a new beautiful bride, walks through my front door.
We hug.
See in each other’s eyes that we are updated about the most recent tragedy.
This heartbreaking blow.
We speak briefly and carefully about it.
How hideous war is.
How chaotic and raw and real war is.
How heartbreaking.
How very, very sad it all is.
I realize it’s cold in the house.
I light the fire.
We sit on the couch and talk about her wedding.
We remember together about how special and magical it was.
My daughter comes in.
We start talking about her move to Jerusalem this week.
We smile.
The hurt is still there.
It’s a shade or two lighter.
I promise myself I will make time for the hurt later.
That’s what this entry is tonight.
Making space for the hurt.