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Before I share our recent agonizing experience with you, my dear friends, I want to remind us all that nothing in life comes free. As Jews, our soul-soothing, priceless currency in times of joy and times of sorrow is prayer. A direct line to Hashem, who is always listening, always with us.

With a fervent prayer that our hostages be returned, our beautiful children, sick and elderly kept safe and protected, our soldiers walk with Hashem Himself as they selflessly stand guard over our land, I share with you our experience over the past few days.

I thought it was an earthquake. I heard thunderous booms and then my boy's heavy bunk bed rattling and shaking almost like it was falling down. Then thumps from upstairs, from what I thought was furniture toppling over.

My husband was already praying, having woken up at 4:50 am to attend synagogue at the earliest possible hour. My two older boys had planned to go with him so I assumed I was home alone with 4 kids.

Then came an eerie whining wail. I ran to the window expecting to see an ambulance or police car and my teenage son (who I didn’t realize was still home) screamed “Imma it's a siren!” I ran out of my bedroom with him heading to the bomb shelter, also known as a safe room, a mandatory room in every dwelling in Israel.

Then my other son yelled from behind me. I didn’t realize he was also home. Both of my boys opted to go to synagogue at the regular hour rather than at 4:50 am with my husband. My heart dropped deep into my stomach and tumbled around at the thought of him left behind me. Like a mother hen, I ensure the safety of my flock by always picking up the rear, herding my children to security before myself. I quickly repositioned behind him and ran pushing them both into the safe room.

The best decision I ever made was having my two youngest sleep in the bomb shelter. The luxury of space, or at least unused spaces, is unheard of in Israel and almost always the safe room has a dual purpose, often serving as a bedroom. My girls room is right next door so when the boys and I got to the other side of the apartment, the girls were already hustling in. My youngest daughter was screaming and crying, my youngest son was hiding under his blanket and once we were all in, my oldest son slammed the door with all his might, closing off the outside world with a bang.

We were stunned.

We also secured the room by closing off the window with a special metal sliding panel that effectively extinguished all the light.

Plunged into darkness we stood as the siren ceased. We waited the requisite few minutes to account for any falling shrapnel which is where injuries tend to happen after an Iron Dome interception. We readied to emerge, in a daze – when the next siren wailed. Again we waited in silence for a safe opportunity to exit. Then there was an unexpected knock on the bomb shelter door. We all jumped and screamed.

Unlike our friends in the south, the knock on the door belonged to a friend, not foe. My husband had come home to us. My heart is shattered by the stories and images of hostages, coldblooded murders, attacks on entire families dragged from their homes, from their “safe” rooms, from their beds by the terrorists.

When the whole world makes excuses for evil, we turn to Hashem. Our pain is His pain. Our tears and our fears seen and acutely felt by the True Judge.

So that is what the first morning of this unprovoked war looked like. Thunderous booms, jumping, sirens blaring, refrains of “walk don’t run” as our kids dashed to the bomb shelter, on a wash rinse and repeat cycle for hours.

Every sound makes you skittish, at best – or jump out of your skin, at worst. You hear sirens faintly whining even when they are not. It’s scary to even go to the bathroom. My 8 year old said (hours later) “my heart is still shaking” and “it’s so weird Imma, it feels like my heart is here” he said, motioning to his throat.

Another child kept wrapping himself in a blanket in a fetal position. I remember from my work with JNF visiting PTSD trauma centers in the South that talking to the kids and not allowing them to get too deep into that fearful headspace is critical in the early stages. So we just acted “normal”, hugged him, engaged him in a game of backgammon, anything and everything to just get him out of the physical bomb shelter and out of that fearful arresting mental state.

We even tried to laugh. We didn’t let the rumors get to the little ones and we downplayed the rumors to our teenagers for their sake and ours. Refusing to believe a police station was raided and overrun. That “50” people were kidnapped and dragged into Gaza. That so many were dead?! It didn’t even sound possible. All while the skies were buzzing with helicopters, fighter jets and who knows what other wartime aircraft from the base on the other side of the mountains that make up my glorious view. The sky hasn't stopped buzzing for 2 days now.

We are locking our front door.

School has been canceled indefinitely.

My husband went shopping for eggs and milk (and toilet paper) with all the other Americans stockpiling the basics, sending shivering corona flashbacks down our spines.

Most of the city center is a ghost town. With more storefronts closed than open as so many workers have been called to defend our right to exist on every front.

We’ve offered our apartment to my social media manager, her husband and their newborn. But they can’t make it to us because it’s still not safe to evacuate their yishuv in the south.

My friend’s cousin is missing.

My niece’s fiance’s cousin is murdered.

My 4 nephews, my friend's 5 children, my friend’s husband, my neighbors, my neighbors’ sons along with 300,000 reservists were called up by the government to the south and north. Every reservist who has been called up has reported for duty. Differences have been hastily cast aside, we are united now.

Cars drove on shabbos through our religious neighborhood slowly, with blinkers on, filled with religious men. It looked like a slow, surreal, otherworldly carpool. You could see parents crying and hugging, invoking the power of tearful prayer over their sons as their ride waited for them to get in.

Everyone who had a license to carry, started wearing their guns to shul. In some cases both pistols and machine guns. And then they all started leaving, one by one. This one a police officer, this one a paramedic, this one a soldier, this one a reservist.

My niece reported there wasn’t a man left on her yishuv.

Now we wait and pray. We hunker down. We try not to read the news too much, although we can’t stop. We try to stop watching videos that will haunt us for a lifetime. We bought 2,000 piece puzzles to distract ourselves. We message each other and everyone we know and field messages from what seems like everyone we’ve ever known inquiring about our safety.

We oddly sent messages back on the Jewish holiday to those in the States who were not observant, that we knew wouldn’t rest until they were assured of our safety. I sent a voice note so that my father could hear my voice. I told him not to worry. And not to reply and that I would be in touch when the holiday ends for him.

And then the real work began. We messaged our Father in Heaven. With whispered prayer and Tehillim through tears. Because from where else will our salvation come?

We know waiting through this painful time is gut wrenching. Here are some ways you can show your support:

Yad Ezra V’Shulamit is sending truck loads of food and hot meals to soldiers on the front and civilians in shelters. Donate Here To Feed Our Soldiers And Trapped Civilians

Meir Panim supports the needy and impoverished in Israel. They work with many Holocaust survivors and elderly who will need extra support through this war. Donate Here To Get Food And Supplies To Civilians In Need

Magen David Adom is Israel’s National Emergency Pre-Hospital Medical And Blood Services Organization. Donate Here To Help Them Respond Quickly To All Medical Emergencies In This Critical Time

Aish is ensuring that Jews throughout the world remain connected in this time of terror and is fighting back against antisemitism. They are providing support groups to help both families who are missing relatives and households with parents being called up to war. Donate Here To Help Provide Emergency Relief And Fight Antisemitism

Jamie and family