The Rabbit Hole

During two years of war in Israel, my daughter Talya would do jigsaw puzzles on Shabbat. It was my form of de-stressing. When I puzzled, I seemed to enter another world, like tumbling down Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit hole. 

As I searched for matches and clicked pieces together, I was concentrated, a bit obsessive, and fully distracted. The puzzles were enticing with their happy, bright, and panoramic pictures. 

When sirens blared on Shabbat, especially last fall, we ran for shelter. The interceptors boomed overhead and then we waited for the all clear. Exiting the space with hopes our world was still intact, we would head straight back to the puzzle, our make-believe place of stability.

One day, I looked closely at the puzzle. Was it a gondola decorated with roses? Or the lighthouse on a beach with the sun setting over the sea? Or maybe that calm stream gurgling in front of a cabin, smoke curling from the chimney? We did so many puzzles, I can’t remember. But one day, I said to Talya, “I just want to dive into this puzzle.”

I was done with my reality, overly stressed about the soldiers, family members serving in Gaza, the fires, the missiles, and especially the hostages. 

Last Shabbat, I sat outside, looking up at an azure sky. The sky was blissfully silent, save for a group of storks migrating above. Leaves gleamed in sunshine and shadows fell softly across the garden. My kitten was fast asleep, curled up in a furry ball on a chair, just like in so many of the puzzles I did. And then I realized that I am calm and my life looks like a puzzle picture, except I am outside the box and appreciating my present reality.

These past two years have been like riding a scary rollercoaster and I don’t feel like the ride is over yet; we are just slowly cruising along for now. And with the remaining live hostages safely back in Israel, the nation can finally rejoice. 

Those yellow symbols on cars, yellow chairs in traffic circles, yellow pins on clothing, yellow bracelets, and yellow flags fluttering on overpasses and along highways are being removed. The signs counting the days (a total of 738 agonizing and tormented days) can come down. The nation was frozen with anguish for a full two years. Each Israeli felt the pain and could not rest until the last hostage was released. They were part of this nation’s prayers and much of the Jewish world’s consciousness night and day. 

Their names lay beside my Shabbat candles and I thought of them in those dark tunnels as I kindled my lights. Their pictures were outside the yishuv’s community centre with the phrase, ‘Look in their eyes.’ And their photos lined the departure hall at Ben Gurion where people wrote them notes and left them letters. Waking and sleeping, departing and driving, they were on our minds. 

And just after the last hostages were released this past Hoshana Raba, my daughter Aviva gave birth to her first girl, and our first grand-daughter. Her due date was October 7, yet the baby waited, deciding instead to come into this world on a day of light, rejoicing, and freedom. 

There was a special intensity to Simchat Torah eve as people danced around in circuits holding the Torah, their joyful steps marking the full circle from fear and darkness two years ago to miracles and light. And this new baby girl represents life and a promising future, sharing in that special moment as her first day in this world. 

The signs of pain are now being replaced with ‘Welcome Home’ phrases. Our yishuv gate was the first one I saw. We have so much to be grateful for. There is no puzzle on my table now as there is no need to escape down that rabbit hole. Why would I? I live in one of the most beautiful and miraculous places in the world.