My beautiful and beloved son
As we stand on the precipice of a brand new year, I think of you, somewhere down South, where it’s hot and dusty but the night turns bitterly cold at 3am. I think of you in a worn uniform and somehow surviving (and even thriving) on little sleep and less food.
As always since you started this brave new journey, I think of you, but more so now, as Rosh Hashanah gets closer and you feel so far away. At least, we thought you would be home for the chagim, but no we know that’s not going to be the case.
So here’s my blessing to you, little big man:
May you get time to davven and if you don't, may the curly peyot Tzfat boys sing your favorite yom tov tunes
May you manage to stay up for 72 hours and still be functional
May the Manot Krav (canned food parcels) have tinned fruit and chocolate spread and bread
May your eyes be bright and your sense of purpose relentless
May your trigger finger stay steady
May your gun fire smoothly and not get stuck
May you find laughter in the darkness and hope in the dust
May you continue to face fear with courage, anxiety with fortitude and homesickness with meaning
May your mekafdim continue to be wise and caring (underneath the gruffness)
May you return home safely, your body whole and your spirit unbroken.
And may we soon see a time when uniforms are no longer necessary.
יְבָרֶכְךָ ה' וְיִשְׁמְרֶךָ יָאֵר ה' פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וִיחֻנֶּךָּ יִשָּׂא ה' פָּנָיו אֵלֶיךָ וְיָשֵׂם לְךָ שָׁלוֹם
May Hashem bless you and protect you. May the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up His face to you and grant you peace.
Stand tall, my son.
I love you.
Mom
