This morning at 6:32 a.m., our alarm went off. Except – the alarm I had set on my phone had already gone off at 6:20. This second alarm wasn’t from the snooze button or any other notification from my phone. This alarm came courtesy of the Houthis in Yemen – who decided that Sunday morning was the perfect time to lob a long-range ballistic missile at Israel. 

The traditional “beep, beep, beep” of an alarm clock was replaced by the blaring sound of the Red alert sirens, reminding us that in one and a half minutes, we needed to get up our groggy kids and rush them into the bomb shelter, close the window, close the door and wonder what in God’s name the Houthis were doing up so early. 

Is there a time difference between Yemen and Israel? I wondered. Maybe they’ve already had their coffee. 

But thankfully, the missile was intercepted. Except for some structural damage (including a broken escalator at our local train station from fallen shrapnel), there were no injuries or casualties reported. I want to say that the alarm that went off this morning – was really and truly a wake-up call that God is always protecting us and keeping us safe. Perhaps this is idealistic of me – but I am starting my day with an extra prayer of thanksgiving that we’re safe, and an extra sense of appreciation for the IDF and the Arrow missile defense system, which never cease to amaze me with their incredible protective ability.

Of course, there’s one more thing that I marveled at this morning – after thanking God and patting myself and my husband on the back for our super-parent abilities to get our kids to school on time, I marveled at the strength and resilience of my children – and the people of Israel. 

So, back to 6:32. Siren goes off – my husband and I run, bleary-eyed, to our kid’s rooms. The two older children who sleep in beds knew the drill and were already on their way to the bomb shelter. They weren’t scared. They were kind of energized at the opportunity to show off that they knew what to do in an emergency. As a kid, you learn basic safety rules. You know all about “stop, drop, and roll,” you memorize your parent’s phone numbers, and in Israel, you learn how to run to a bomb shelter. My daughter, who still sleeps in a crib, was just happy that we got her up early. She was ready for the day. It was a win for everyone. 

And then we waited. 

We chatted for ten minutes, said a prayer, and did our “boom high five.” Since the beginning of the war, every time we hear an explosion, the sound of an intercepted missile, my children and I high-five. And we high five and say Thank you, God, Go Hashem! Thank you, soldiers! Go Iron Dome! 

And then, the ten minutes in the bomb shelter were finished. School uniforms were donned, breakfast scarfed down, a moment to braid someone’s hair, and the kids were off to school. 

At that moment, I was filled with tremendous pride. Is that bizarre? To feel pride that your children are so experienced at running to bomb shelters that this morning’s distraction didn’t faze them? They were champs. So incredibly calm and so relaxed. So much so that my daughter’s conversation this morning included pointing out all the other sounds we heard on our morning walk to school. Birds chirping, dogs barking. Almost as if she was trying to calm my nerves. So, we started the day off with a siren. That was just one of the many parts of what will be another typical (and excellent) day for my four-year-old. 

Isn’t that bizarre that they know the words “Terrorist” and “Missile,” and some of my children are as young as two? I am so proud to live in Israel. I am so proud to be raising Jewish children in our homeland. There is so much hatred and so much evil in the world. And – in the face of all of that- the people of Israel have shown tremendous resilience, strength, and courage. At the heart of that strength? The children. 

Children shouldn’t spend their childhood in and out of bomb shelters. Children shouldn’t be in mourning for their fathers who are dying, fighting for a land that they love. Children shouldn’t have faced the atrocities of October 7th. And I shudder to think of the nightmares still afflicting the children who were directly impacted by terrorist infiltrations in their homes almost a year ago.

But children should be raised with values, with a foundation that goes beyond whatever materialistic nonsense TV shows and mass-produced toys try to instill these days. 

I pray that we will never have another rocket. That we will never encounter October 7th again. But I also wouldn’t ask to be anywhere else but here. Here, we have something worth defending. And that’s something our children learn, too. 

Today, at approximately 9:32 this morning, three hours after the first alarm,  a dear friend named her new baby boy at his Brit Milah: the Biblical ceremony that all eight-day-old baby boys have to welcome them into the covenant of Abraham. The collective Mazal Tov from all the attendees was another alarm, another wake-up call. This is one of resilience and strength.  This baby was named and welcomed into his faith and into his homeland three hours after yet another attempt to destroy the Jewish people was foiled.

I am so incredibly blessed to be raising my family in a land that I feel spiritually and Biblically connected to. In a land where my children are taught to look to God in a moment of tragedy. First, before anything else. In a land where we know God will protect, bless, and keep us safe. 

I wouldn’t ask to be anywhere else, even if it means being in a bomb shelter with my family at 6:32 in the morning.