I spent the last weekend with my family in Itamar, a settlement in the West Bank of Israel. I went with a group of people to support the community in their mourning for the slaughtered Fogel family. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what good I could do over there with three little kids, but it was worth a shot.
I had a truly amazing time, to say the least, and that says a lot for me. For starters, I had abandoned my comfort zone and stepped into the vast, scary world. Next, I left what I consider normalcy and joined a somewhat camper/wilderness gang far below my living standards. I had gone from civilian to girl scout in a matter of minutes upon exiting the car.
We stayed in a little caravan set out on a cleared mountain top. At one point, it was so windy, the little camper almost took off. There were no screens and four little cots. I am not sure I can call them cots. They were thin paper-like mattresses on a metal frame. The linen was washed and smelled clean. There was a fleece kind of blanket which I refrained from sniffing because even in 5 star hotels, I know they don’t wash those. I just threw those aside and paid dearly for it as I shivered through the night. Read the rest of this entry