The day the boys were declared dead was also the day I made a shortcut for the psalms assigned to me (to pray) on my phone. The shortcut was not a pessimistic presumption that we would not find them quickly but a way of ensuring I would not forget to do my part.
I named the shortcuts #bringbackourboys. I went to a rally. I prayed. I freaked out because my sister was on Birthright though I warned her not to get into random carsand not to hitchhike even before this happened.
I was awed by the faith and courage of Eyal, Gilad and Naftali’s families. I was blown by the unity of people both Jewish and not. My inner Jewess, demonstrator, lover of the Holy Land, protester was unleashed.
Then their bodies were found. I was shocked. I had not expected it. I had been awaiting a miracle.
Other things happen. Some pleasant.
A nasty person made up a story of a couple renaming their triplets after the boys and I stopped sharing articles on facebook without running them by Snopes.com.
A couple actually, really, truly did name their son after the 3 boys. They were inspired by the unity these boys ignited. That was loaded. I applauded them but could not imagine doing the same.
The IDF moved in and the tunnels were uncovered.
Through it all my finger hovered over that #bringbackourboys psalm shortcut. After all we were no longer splitting the psalms. It was time to delete it.
In a rush I was overwhelmed by the unity I had felt. That though the initial reason for this shortcut was not there something that surpassed that reason still was. The feelings expressed and lessons learnt were still there.
So I kept the shortcut and I try to say the psalms.
They are there as a testimonial. As a memorial. As a daily reminder of Israel and of our spirit. And as an everlasting tribute in the form of prayer for Eyal, Gilad and Naftali -may they rest in peace.
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