Unbreakably Our Own

Once the hostage deal was approved, as contrary as it was to public opinion, I renewed my efforts, along with my hope, that Jewish lives would return home.

Photo credit: Este Abramowitz. ‘Romi and Ami.’ Gourmet Glatt Lakewood, New Jersey, January 17, 2025.

After the first release of three female civilians on Sunday a few weeks ago, I put the same white chair outside that I had last placed there in September and piled on treats and Margalit Romano’s personalized Tehillim pamphlets for the remaining hostages in Gaza.

Photo credit: Este Abramowitz.

The following Friday, preceding the release of our three female soldiers the following day, I once again carried out my Tehillim, hoping that enough kids would gather around and daven in an erev Shabbos effort. I specifically put Arbel Yehud on top of the pile because at the time, Israel was fighting to get this last female civilian back against Hamas’ plans for the three soldiers’ release the next day.

Photo credit: Este Abramowitz. ‘Arbel, Arbel.’

Later in the afternoon, I returned to my display to check how many candies were gone. As I was busy reorganizing the pamphlets, I saw a man in light blue jean pants and a jacket heading towards me. Honestly, I got a little nervous at first until he called out, “Are you selling soda? Can I get one? How much is it?”

I laughed to myself that I looked like a soda station—I mean I guess that was sort of my goal in attracting neighborhood kids to this solitary activity—and told him, “No, they’re free. We’re praying for the hostages in Gaza.”

Surprised, he answered, “Well, what can I give?”

I said, “A prayer for this lady,” pointing to Arbel’s picture. He nodded his head in understanding, responding, “Gd bless Israel, and Gd bless them all.”

I handed him a soda can, and he paused to smile at me, before he headed back to his yellow school bus. I hesitated to ask for a picture before the moment was lost. So I ran after him and explained that it’s rare to find others who care and could I take a picture of him with his soda to post? Please do, he said, with a joyous thumbs up.

This was a great way to go into Shabbos three weeks ago, not only caring for my immediate family but also for Klal Yisroel. We never know how far-reaching our actions can become.

That was one lesson I had learned from my ongoing Tehillim project, which aimed at children really feeling like their prayers helped others and that Gd heard them.

Another lesson I took from the hostage crisis was the unbreakable bond between mother and child. Starting with Mia Schem, throughout her 54 days in Gaza, she had dreamed of her mother bathing her and combing her hair. From TV snippets, she was aware of the unending fight her mother had been putting up to bring her home. What a lioness.

Photo credit: Times of Israel. Keren Schem reunited with Mia, November 30, 2023.

This is reminiscent of the release of Daniella Gilboa, who upon reuniting with her family, cried to her mother, את לביאה, את לביאה…

Once it became common knowledge that the hostages were exposed to television and radio during captivity, parents made a more persistent effort to broadcast messages to their kids to stay strong and that they’ll be out very soon. Shira Albag was one of these mothers, who, fighting back her own tears to keep her voice strong and positive, told her daughter, I know it’s not easy for you, but don’t give up. You will come out alive.

The worst of circumstances always underscores our fierce love in relationships and our unwillingness to back down. These mothers—including Meirav Berger, who sought out those she was totally unaffiliated with like the Ponovezher Rav and Rav Yitzchak Berkowitz for guidance and chizuk, in addition to her political efforts—were relentless, and seeing them hug their children once they came back made me question whether a moment had passed from 481 days ago until now.

Photo credit: Times of Israel. Meirav Berger reunited with her daughter Agam.

They didn’t miss a heartbeat, as if the lifeline between mother and daughter had never been broken, even if it was preserved mostly through hopeful dreams, prayers, and imaginative scenes of reuniting.

All these reunions and all the many fights of emunah remind me of my own mother’s love for me, of the unbreakable bond between me and my son Shlomo Zalman, as well as my daughter Miriam—of a parent’s innate instinct to reassure their child that everything will be okay. As one mother told her daughter back in the hospital after her release, “You’re okay. It’s okay. Everything’s okay,” in a calm and steady voice, despite her own significant pain and brokenness inside.

Don’t we all in some ways connect to these mothers in our own trials of love and endurance? Isn’t the Shechinah the same way? How She longs to have us all back and reassure us that everything will be okay.

Never give up on your hope, your prayers or HaShem’s unending kindness, even 500 days later. The most unexpected joy can be around the corner, if only you hold out just a little longer and trust that one day you will celebrate.