Goodbye, my sons

I never hugged you, kissed you or stroked your hair. I never bathed you or changed your diapers. I never clapped for you when you took those first tentative steps and I never squealed in delight when I saw your first tooth.

I never cheered you on when you started using the toilet and when you threw out your pacifiers.

I never got that sinking feeling that mothers get when they bring their little ones to preschool for the first time and the little ones hold on to their mothers for dear life, terrified to let them leave.

I never told you I was proud of you, nor did I ever tell you that I love you.

I never got upset with you for fighting with your siblings or for breaking your brother's favorite toy.

I never held you in my arms to comfort you when you were sick, sad or just plain tired.

I never laid down next to you at night to hear the details of your day.

I never chased a ball with you, blew bubbles with you or splashed around in cool water with you during the hot summer months.

I never rocked you back to sleep when you woke up terrified by dreams that shook your world up.

I never even met you, but you were my sons, killed at the hands of evil, brutal terrorists who derived joy and pleasure from my loss. My heart aches for you, Yochai and Dor Chaim. In this tiny little country of ours that knows very little, if any degrees of separation, I feel like my world just grew darker, as two beautiful rays of light were extinguished from it. You were heroes, my boys. You fought to defend your people and your nation and sacrificed yourselves and your beautiful young lives in the process.

Your birth families are devastated. They are crushed beyond words. They are sobbing bitter tears and wondering how to continue living from now on. And your surrogate family, the entire Nation of Israel, joins them in their unbearable pain. We are a nation with one giant heart and with every loss, that heart cracks a little bit more each time. But it will never ever break.


Goodbye, my sons. Your memory will live deep within your family's heart.


יהי זכרם ברוך
Major Yochai Kalangel, 25 years old (Har Gilo)
Staff Sgt. Dor Chaim Nini, 20 years old (Shtulim)

With love,


Cigal

The Beauty of Shabbat

I remember almost 15 years ago, being newly single in Vancouver, on my path to discovering the beauty of Shabbat. The awe and the wonderment that I felt at every Shabbat service and Shabbat table filled my heart with love and joy, making me dare to dream of the day that I could create a warm, welcoming, inspiring environment in my own home one day. Being around various Shabbat tables, witnessing the angel-like beauty of the women as their husbands sang Aishet Chayil(Woman of Valor)to them, made me dream of the day that my future husband would sing that beautiful song to me with tremendous love and intent in his heart.

Every Jew has at least one mitzva that they feel particularly connected to. For some, it might be giving tzedaka(charity to the poor). For others, it may be Hachnassat Orchim (opening their doors to guests). Some women feel extremely connected to Taharat HaMishpacha(Family Purity/Mikve), while others may feel very attached to tzniut(modesty).

From the very beginning of my journey, I have always felt a deep and spiritual connection to Shabbat and Hachnassat Orchim. I attached myself to a beautiful congregation, one that felt more like a family. The Rabbi and his wife epitomized for me, the true beauty of Shabbat and Judaism. They were my role models, the ones I am indebted to for the rest of my life, for opening my heart and soul to the real definition of beauty. They became my dear friends over time. And then came my time to fly the coop, spread my wings and fly to the Land of Israel. I was going to build my life with Am Yisrael, in Eretz Yisrael, Al Pi Torat Yisrael. And so with fear, trepidation and excitement, I made the move to Israel ten years ago. Bit by bit, more and more friends from Vancouver followed suite and have created their own beautiful Torah observant homes in Israel.


But it wasn't all peaches and cream. Leaving my beautiful community in Vancouver was a tremendous loss, especially as I was single and living in a town where I felt no sense of community. Shabbat became more difficult. I was searching for that sense of community that I had given up and I wasn't finding it. Thank G-d, at least I was making friends and getting invited out for Shabbat. When I developed more friendships, I tried hosting meals, but somehow, it just wasn't the same. I felt a deep sense of longing and loss every time I thought about the beautiful people and community I had left behind...


Fast forward to now, ten years later, I have, thank G-d, married the perfect man for me. His "Aishet Chayil" every week elevates me and reminds me of how I longed for this so many years ago. Every week, we open our doors to guests and look forward to many more beautiful years of hosting.

This past Shabbat, we had an engaged couple over for lunch. In the middle of the meal, the woman turned to me and said "Wow, Cigal, everything is so delicious. This home is filled with Torah and love. What could be better?". In that one sentence, this woman, whom I had met only once before, shook me to my core and made me realize "Wow, I am TRULY living my dream".

I look forward to welcoming many, many more guests into our home for years to come. It's important to me that our home be open to any Jew who needs a meal, whether, he/she is single, divorced, older, younger, religious, on a path or just curious about Shabbat. It is my hope to impart the beauty of an open home to my children so that they'll want to continue with this tradition when they create their own homes one day, G-d willing.

With Love,
Cigal