Since the last time I wrote my war diaries on Day 115, more than a month has passed and the reality of living life in a war continues.
Today marks 150 days, 134 hostages. We’re closing on 5 months now. It’s a staggering reality, one I’ve come to term as the “abnormally normal reality.”
While we’re seemingly carrying on with regular, day-to-day activities – work, sport, family dinners, shopping, cooking, meeting for coffee – we’re carrying a heavy weight in our hearts. The weight of the hostages who are still out there; the weight of the soldiers who are just young men and women risking their lives daily; and the weight of the people who are hurting and traumatised.
They’re all part of our extended family, the Jewish nation.
Every time I sit down to write a war diary, I think, believe (and maybe naively hope?) it will be my last entry. Yet, as the gaps between entries lengthen, the need to write remains. And I continue to hope that each war diary entry will be the last.
The gaps between my war diaries get longer because I often feel like I have nothing to say in this strange reality, where one day blurs into the next. Yet somehow, we fall into a routine of war, if you can call it that. Because the truth is that there is no real routine in a war situation, nor should war ever become a matter of course, or routine.
Each morning dawns with uncertainty.
What tragedies unfolded overnight?
What fresh horrors await in the headlines?
And how will I find the strength to face another day of waiting, waiting for the hostages to come back and the war to end?
I consciously look for the moments of light amidst the darkness and hang on to those for as long as I can, until I read an article about more soldiers killed, an attack on civilians – so many dead, so many wounded. I watch testimonies from victims or hostages who’ve returned or hear of another attack on Jewish people living overseas. As time passes, more stories emerge, as the traumatised speak up and give voice to their nightmare.
And still, the hardest question to answer is, “How are you?”
Because we’re ok and we’re really not ok.
We’re doing our best to gain a sense of normal when everything around us is not normal. We’re doing our best to create a sense of structure and routine in our day but in truth, with the best-laid structures and plans, I can wake up on any given morning and just get through the day, where nothing on my to-do list gets done. The routines, plans and structures I’ve tried to set up (and I’m not a routine person at the best of times) all fall by the wayside and that’s just because it happens to be a bad day.
At the same time, it’s important to acknowledge the small miracles.
Waking up one morning about two weeks ago, I scanned the overnight headlines and discovered that 2 hostages had been rescued by the IDF. 60-year-old Fernando Simon Marman and 70-year-old Louis Har, had spent 128 days in captivity, and were rescued in an extensive military operation. My initial reaction was one of disbelief. Could it be real? What an incredible and joyful feeling to awaken to such news.
The significance of this victory for the IDF cannot be overstated. The real victory of this war lies in locating and safely retrieving the hostages, which remains the IDF’s primary mission. This task is undertaken amidst seemingly insurmountable challenges, with the eyes of the world watching and often criticizing. Yet, it’s crucial to recognize the immense difficulty of this mission. The IDF strives to minimize civilian casualties while executing their operations, a stark contrast to the disregard shown by the opposing side, who recklessly endanger their own civilians to shield themselves.
To hear of a successful rescue mission is indeed a small miracle and a moment of immense celebration, short-lived as it may be. It still feels like a drop in the ocean. 2 hostages rescued, 134 more to go.
I’m dedicating this war diary entry to our true heroes – the men and women who are risking their lives on the front lines. They are just regular people, ordinary people turned superheroes overnight.
The bus driver turned unit commander, the student serving as a captain, the teacher volunteering in reserves, the CEO leading his battalion – they’ve all answered the call of duty, sacrificing comfort for the greater good.
As the song “Superheroes” by Hatikva6* goes (check them out on YouTube),
“Everyone here looks normal,
But we are a nation of superheroes.
It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of life or in the middle of a football game,
We drop everything in a second when the flag calls.
This is not a parallel universe or a Marvel movie
This is our story – the people of Israel.”
Amidst the heroism, captivity still looms large. It’s been 150 days and 134 souls remain in Gaza, their fate unknown. Each day, their absence weighs heavy on our hearts, a constant reminder of the price of freedom.
And life goes on… We cling to our routines, our moments of joy in the chaos. We support each other, drawing strength from our shared resilience.
In the face of adversity, we stand united, we stand resilient in the face of despair.
We hold onto hope – hope for the safe return of our loved ones, hope for a brighter tomorrow.
Am Yisrael Chai 🇮🇱
*Superheroes – written and performed by Hatikva6 (check them out on YouTube click here)