Once again, here is one of the top reasons I am here

I couldn't not share this.

Last night I was babysitting for Ami (5) and Erez (4). We heard a lot of police cars outside and I was telling him that the police was getting ready for President Bush to visit again.

Know why they call him Bush? Because he looks for poos in the bushes! Hahahahaha! --Ami

Oh, kids...

I am here.

That's what I kept thinking this week. I am here. I am here because of the brave men and women we remembered Tuesday evening through Wednesday afternoon when Jerusalem came to a standstill for a siren at 8pm and again at 11am the following morning. Everyone always talks about how appropriate it is for Israel to have Yom Hazikaron (Memorial Day) and Yom Haatzmaut (Independence day) back to back. That could never work in the US. How could Memorial Day come before an independence day for events that happened nearly 200 years ago? Unfortunately there are still US soldiers losing their lives all the time, but nobody in the US feels like their existence is sometimes hanging on a thread. But here the entire country feels that way. We all stop to remember. On Wednesday morning I went with my ulpan to a ceremony at a nearby high school. During the siren a girl behind me was sobbing. I didn't see who it was, and she wasn't the only one. I never saw so many teenagers express so much emotion like that. Throughout the ceremony students were leaning on each other. Afterwards when they got up there was a lot of hugging and people walked back to the school with locked arms. The eerie thing was that I realized what a close connection many of these students had to this day-- how many of them had friends or close relatives who lost their lives in battle. I have friends who have lost close friends. I have seen them crying. Last year UMD Hillel dedicated their Yom Hazikaron ceremony to the memory of Michael Levine, an American soldier whose twin sister graduated from the school a couple years ago. But I could never connect to the day the way these students did... and I hope I never do. We read a short article in class about the stereotype of Israelis as sabra fruits-- soft on the inside but prickly on the outside. The writer wrote how after a couple decades Israelis realized that it was okay to be soft, to express emotion. In fact they even had to in order to deal with the reality of living here.

Wednesday night we dried our eyes and broke out into song. I attended a Yom Haatzmaut tefilah with a full Hallel accompanied by a guitar and flute. After a "festive meal" at my brother's apartment I joined a couple thousand people at Kikar Safra (Jerusalem municipality) for singing and dancing to Israeli music. One day I will know all the hand motions and choruses. I guess it's just one more part of my klitah to look forward to. The city is so small. I felt like I recognized half the people there. Thursday morning I got up early to go on a hike with close to 25 other people. Coming back from the hike we were on a narrow road winding through valleys (note: don't look down) I had never seen before. I can't believe how developed a country can be after just 60 years. My grandma (seriously) asked me if there are sidewalks in Jerusalem, and here there are main roads winding around the sides of mountains. I hadn't seen that much green in Israel in awhile. My crazy Russian boss last summer, upon hearing that I'd be living in Jerusalem, said "Great, so we'll know that that part is ours." I had an inkling that she was Jewish, but never expected something like that from her. Rav Soloveitchik once spoke about how Avraham Avinu, after being told the borders of the land, walked the length of it in order to claim a true ownership of it. Every day I walk to ulpan, to work, wander down a small street I have never been on before, and yesterday I "inherited" a few kilometers more. I am here. Even after only nine months here I could observe Yom Haatzmaut with the excitement and pure joy of everyone around me. It isn't just that we need to appreciate the cost of having a Jewish homeland before celebrating it's independence. We NEED Yom Haatzmaut after the tears and emotions that get poured into Yom Hazikaron. We take just one day in the year to forget all our pains, all the blood that's been spilled, and just celebrate. There are flags everywhere, music coming from every, and the parks were full of families and friends celebrating together.

This year I didn't just celebrate the independence of the Jewish homeland, I celebrated the independence of my HOME. Even my 96 year old grandma, who never exactly expresses happiness over me being here, was really excited to ask me about Yom Haatzmaut. I can't wait to tell my other grandma about it whose opinion is "of course you moved to Israel, our family was always supposed to be in Israel. I couldn't do it but you could." I was thinking about how every year we say that there might never be another Tisha B'Av, that when full redemption comes we won't need it anymore. I think even when there is peace we should have Yom Hazikaron and Yom Haatzmaut as usual. It is too important for this country. Even in ten generations we have to tell the stories of what happened in the past sixty years. We always need to remember why we are here.

I am here. Zeh hayom asah Hashem, nagilah v'nishmechah vo!