A sideline view from the mothers of lone soldiers

This is the language of hope…

Imagine… sitting in a circle at a friend’s home and sharing sushi, drinks, and desserts. All ready to connect, all already deeply connected.

The first woman, Shayna, begins to share that her son, Benji, has been in Gaza for three months. She has not spoken with him. But knows she will. He is 22 and she doesn’t sleep at night.

Next, Aliza shares that her daughter, Tamar, enlisted in the IDF just months before the war. She was so excited to start a new life in her homeland. Aliza struggles to talk with her daughter and never knows the right questions to ask. But she asks anyway. She does not sleep at night.

Then someone says something about shipping her son clean socks. Everyone smiles and they share a link to “How to order clean army issued socks for your IDF soldier.” They continue to laugh and drink some wine and eat some sushi. One of the women adds that her son, Moshe, age 21, never cared about clean socks, but now he does. She doesn’t sleep at night.

One of the women asks if anyone has been to the new coffee shop down the street? We should do our next Moms of Lone Soldiers meet-up there. They all smile and think that was a great idea.

Next up is Rachel. Her son is a sniper. Yes, a sniper. He is 23 and stationed in the north, on the border of Lebanon. As far as she knows? She spoke with him the day before yesterday, he sounded tired, she says. But he is so strong and so brave, she adds. She knows he is brave. She doesn’t sleep at night.

Leah speaks next. She has two kids in college and one daughter who just finished her training in the IDF. Her daughter wants to be a combat soldier. She doesn’t have much to tell her mom though, because her mom doesn’t understand. “I wish I understood more,” adds Leah. “I wish I understood the language of soldiers. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what not to say.” Some tears are shed all around. She adds, I don’t sleep at night.

Shira shares that one of her kids served in Gaza until January. He lost so many friends he went from funeral to funeral. He lost his commander a month ago. We felt like we knew him, too, she says. He took care of our son. Our hearts are broken. She adds, I don’t sleep at night.

My son gets out in a month, notes Michal. He wants to go visit his grandparents in England and then travel with friends and come home to see us. but I am told that may not happen. I don’t know who to call. Who do I call? I don’t know what to say. What should I say? I don’t sleep at night.

What is the language of soldiers? How do we not say the wrong thing? What if everything is the wrong thing? And… everything is also the right thing. So what if we don’t sleep at night?! Hope is all of this.