Sharing Saturday
I am sitting in the lobby of a tacky hotel on the Dead Sea. Outside the dining hall, people dressed as Greek gods performed silent dances as we are herded into a smorgasbord of delights - meat, rice, potatoes, hummus, bread, salads of every color and texture, and of course, beautiful-looking but straw-tasting desserts.
Welcome to a tour of Israel. I am currently thousands of miles from home, missing the biggest winter storm to ever hit DC (well, not exactly missing, as I had my flight cancelled the day of the blizzard and it took me 27 hours to get to Tel Aviv), missing a full week of school cancellations and the beginning of winter break. Missing my 8-year-old’s tooth falling out, my daughter’s laughter, my oldest son’s wry humor. I am on a work trip.
Needless to say, it’s not all trials and tribulations to get to go to Israel, even if it does mean catering to the needs of nearly 40 people traveling together. Every time I come to this country I learn something new, see something extraordinary. Last night, I slept in the Negev desert in a Bedouin tent (really.) Today we toured Masada, the site of the conquest of the Maccabees, of whom we told a heroic tale just a week ago on Chanukah. And tomorrow I get to take this group, many of whom are in Israel for the first time with their children, to Jerusalem, the holiest of cities.
I am not a tour guide. I work for an organization that supports progressive social justice causes in Israel, and we believe that the best way to encourage people to donate to our work is to show them Israel. I have been on a number of our trips over the years, and through a little luck I was asked to lead this one.
But conflicts are inherent in such a request for a working mom. I love to travel. I love to travel to Israel. And I especially love to travel to Israel for work. But it has been so long since I traveled on a regular basis, I still don’t really know how to use the self ticketing kiosks at the airport (the woman at the United counter said to me with a sneer in her voice, “we’ve been all automated for five years!” As if that has had an impact on my life with an 8, 10 and 14 year old.)
And although I am not generally overcome with grief at leaving my children for a stretch of time (no cooking dinner for two weeks? Spa vacation!) I am missing their little and big selves pretty intensively on this trip. The amount I miss them seems to directly correlate with how much older they are getting.
When they were infants, there was enormous relief at even a few hours escape from home. Toddlers, and I was still happy to take a trip now and then. School age, and I’m feeling negligent. So much homework to oversee, play dates, activities. But most of all, I simply miss them. Their personalities are so entwined in my daily narrative that without the cacophony of their day in my background, I don’t feel whole.
As I move deep into middle age, I confront mortality on a daily basis. I think about dying too young to meet my children’s needs and launch them properly. I worry about all the potential accidents I can encounter, or heaven forbid, that my children can encounter as they move more independently into the world. My instinct to protect them is strong, and seems to grow stronger as they pull harder and farther away from me. So when I up and leave them for two weeks as I have just done, I feel like I am testing the evil eye. Kene hora pooh pooh pooh.
So now I know what trinkets I need to bring back for my kids. I asked my youngest what he wanted from Israel and he said “a camel and you.” My daughter wants the room key from my hotel which bears her name. The oldest just grunted. But I am going to find three hamsas, middle eastern ornaments to ward off evil, so that I feel that I am doing my best to love and protect them even five thousand miles from home.
So it’s off to Jerusalem to find their amulets. Lech l’cha - may you be a blessing, my three sweet loves, and sleep well.
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