O Jerusalem


I awoke from a pleasant funny dream.  One cat curled behind my knees and another cat giving me what she considers a “massage.”  All the lights were on.  I had fallen asleep on the couch again.

I put myself to bed, but I couldn’t sleep.  One siren. Two sirens.  Lots more sirens.  I learned in my first years living in Israel that one or two sirens was probably an accident, but three signaled the likelihood of a terrorist attack.  Suddenly I was AWAKE.  What was going on?

Voices shouting on my street.  Subtle sirens.  Light honking.  I got up and went out onto my porch.  It looked like a brawl in the park.  I used my phone to Google current events.  Stabbings, more stabbings, brawls, violence.

Soon the crowd dispersed from my street.  And eventually, I fell asleep.  How I wanted to be back in my pleasant funny dream again.

Just another glorious day in paradise.

Just another glorious day in paradise.


Sirens all day.  Helicopters patrolling. Peeks at the news.  Why is there one terrible story after another?  Violence. Idiotic international media.  Funerals.  Sadness.  Hatred.  It’s just a vortex of negativity.  I understand the benefits of a “news fast,” but how else will I know what’s happening on my own street, in my own neighborhood, in my city?  I sure as hell don’t want to investigate it myself.

There were a lot of great and joyful things that happened in the past week and they will all be overshadowed by the violence.

I’m sad, but I’m not anxious.  I won’t throw myself in the middle of any dangerous situations, but I am not afraid.  Jerusalem is still my city.  It’s the eternal city and we’ll get through this too.

*Normally I write a Friday post, but today isn’t Friday.  It feels like Friday though because it’s the evening before a holiday.

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