Because Heroes

Hard times don't create heroes. It is during the hard times when the 'hero' within us is revealed.

―Bob Riley 

I have never been especially impressed by the heroics of people convinced they are about to change the world. I am more awed by those who struggle to make one small difference.
― Ellen Goodman

Love and Generosity and Affection. We need all those things more than ever today.
―Gal Gadot

The other day, there was an article in the paper about Gal Gadot receiving a Star on the renowned Hollywood Walk of Fame. Gal Gadot, of course, is best known for starring in Date Night Wonder Woman as Superhero Princess Diana. Full disclosure – I've never seen any Wonder Woman movie, nor, for that matter, the vast majority of the Marvel or DC movies. (I never watched Game of Thrones either, though I did watch Ted Lasso! and Date Night.) I admire Gal Gadot and all, it's just that I'm not that into superheroes.

I'm more into regular heroes. 

A couple of weeks ago, I drove my son to meet his friend and fellow soldier to join the rest of his army unit for 'miluim'—army reserve duty. Many young (and some less young) Israelis put aside their families, their businesses, their work, their lives to serve every year – for a day, a week, up to a month – helping out where help is needed, whether for their own training or training younger soldiers, replacing the regular soldiers (sadirnikim) on the borders, or cleaning out bases. Miluimnikim (Israelis who serve in miluim) are also called up to augment the regular soldiers during times of war or natural disasters. For a month, my son and his friends are serving on the border—protecting their nation from terrorists. They also catch up on each other's lives, gossip, share cookies, and see how long they can go before needing to change their socks. As the years pass, the time between sock changing lessens, but the catching up grows. 

When that son comes home, another son – already preparing – will be replacing him on the same border for another month—leaving his job, his wife, his children, his home. 

Just writing about them makes my heart swell and my eyes fill. 

Because      heroes. 

I recently met up with a friend of mine. We've been friends for years; our kids, all different ages and in different schools, grew up together. Mine would play on one side of the playground, hers on the other side. If a ball happened to be accidently thrown into the opposing group, straws would be drawn to see who would retrieve it. But hey. Eventually, they played together and threw the ball at each other. But I digress. I just wanted to make the point that I've known the family for years. 

I hadn't seen this friend in quite some time. Corona, grandkids, life—before you know it, time flies. In any case, even though we had clean socks on (just kidding, I wasn't wearing socks at all), we caught up with each other's lives; what we were doing; what the kids and grandkids were doing; and how we felt about the state of our nation (not a lot; a nachas!; sick). Talking about the state of our nation led us to talking about 'how it was in MY day', and that led my friend to talking about how she and her parents made Aliyah. My friend, a few years younger than I am, came to Israel at age eight by boat. Her parents simply decided that the Old Country was no place to raise Jewish children and it was time to come to Israel; with little planning (and no Nefesh b'Nefesh), no official professions or long resumes, and very little money, they packed up their three small children, boarded a ship and came. They took what jobs they could, provided a wonderful if modest life for themselves and their children and planted roots. 50 years later, their great-grandchildren have spread out all across the Land, the exact right place to raise Jewish children. 

My eyes are full again, as is my heart. 

Because      heroes. 

I have other friends who work tirelessly raising money for the benefit of others; more friends who, weekly, host those without families to meals; even more who volunteer in schools, hospitals, elder facilities, soup kitchens; other friends who, despite their own problems and baggage – which are sometimes very very heavy – get up every morning and face the day, taking care of their kids, their parents, their neighbours. 

The guy who fixed my sandals? He was one of the liberators of Beer Sheva in 1949. 

The woman at the checkout who asked me to get milk for her? She's taking care of her special needs daughter while battling cancer. 

The woman praying at the bus stop? She's asking God for help to raise money to build shelters against missiles. 

I'm blessed to have my eyes fill and my heart swell every day. 

And that woman who is slowly picking over the bananas? She's worrying about her boys on the border. So be kind. 

Because     heroes.