Yom Yerushalayim & Getting Older

This is the third year in a row that I did not participate in the rikudgalim (dance/parade of flags). That is it. I am done. Three times is a chazakah.
(off topic: it is SO COOL that I can link to a definition of chazakah on Wikipedia!!!)

Two years ago, the pouring rain helped me to justify still being too tired to participate (even though my last surgery was over half a year earlier).

Last year, I determined to push myself and do it, until I realized there really were other options.

Finally, this year, I did not even consider it. OK, I considered it, but for only a fraction of a minute, so that does not really count.

I am just too tired, my feet are too swollen, and the kids are old enough to be doing their own thing (at least the older kids are).

Like last year, my eldest went with her friends, my son went on a tiyul (hike) with Sayarut (scouts) (after attending the Bat Mitzvah of one of the girls from his class), and that left my youngest, who went to Zam Zam and did not even miss the parade.

I was all set to attend our community davening (praying) -- this year, all the Batei K'nesset (shuls/synagogues) prayed together in one minyan (quorum), in the large, neighborhood schoolyard (down the block from us).

Moshe wanted to attend a film about the battle for the Old City in the War of Independence, followed by a talk given by Natan Gini, one of the children who fought to defent the Old City during the War of Independence.

My daughter's fifth grade class had done a play about his brother, Nissim Gini, the youngest fighter to fall in defense of our country. He was only ten. His big brother, Natan, was all of twelve at the time. Afterwards, the kids all wrote letters to his sister, sharing what the story meant to them.

Though I was inclined to attend the davening and then come home and rest (let's not forget that I had chemo today -- though I only had Herceptin since the doctor is giving my gastrointestinal tract a rest for a week, before he lowers the dosage in an attempt to alleviate, or at least significantly lesson, my stomach troubles).

"Why would you send me the information if you do not want to go?" my husband asked, perplexed.

When my youngest heard that Natan Gini would be speaking, she also wanted to go. That tipped the balance.

Both the film and the presentation were interesting and informative.

On the way back to our car (there was terrible traffic, so we parked pretty far away), I met an older friend, returning from the Old City.

I felt a brief pang of regret that I had not participated, but it did not last long.

I was tired enough.

And ready to go home.....



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Yom Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Day)

I have it all worked out:

I pick up the kids when school ends (early, at around noon), pray that the police haven't closed off the Rova (Old City) parking lot yet, park my car in the lot, and walk into town with the kids, where we have a picnic in Gan HaAtzma'ut (Independence Park) under a tree (where I try to convince my kids that we are not dying of heat) and wait until 5:00 when flags are distributed (it is a challenge for a nice, polite, American mother to get flags for her three cute, young kids, when there are MANY big, strong boys pushing through and grabbing flags for their ENTIRE youth group, school, or whatever) and the rikudgalim (flag-dancing or dancing-flags) parade begins. We walk and dance, and sing, and walk and dance down Yafo (Jaffa) Street; then we follow the crowds in through Sha'ar Sh'chem (Damascus Gate), through the narrow, hot and crowded streets that lead to the Kotel (Western Wall) Plaza. We arrive, hot, sweaty, and tired. We do not daven (pray) or join any more dancing. We eat and drink, then trudge back to our car (greatful that it is inside the Rova), drive home (passing all those poor people who have to walk an extra half hour to their cars or the nearest buses -- no, there are no cabs available!), and collapse (sometimes I can actually get the kids to shower first, but most years I let them fall into bed and just wash their sheets the next day).

Ever since my kids were little, we did this EVERY year, on Yom Yerushalayim.

Last year, I was too tired and begged out, which turned out to be a bracha (blessing) because it was POURING rain and everyone who went came back FILTHY, wet and exhausted (and if that is how teenagers came home, imagine what it would have done to me and my kids!)

This year, however, I planned to do it again! (Yes, I really am a crazy lady!)

I was a little worried, because my kids' big all-day, end-of-year, school event is tomorrow. I did not know how I would manage with two big energy draining days in a row. Not to mention that Y has an all day school event the following day, which means that I would have three big energy draining days in a row!

So, I kept debating with myself about whether I could really manage this, and how bad would it really be if I decided that I was too old/tired/whatever, to keep doing this.....

In the end, I decided that I would push myself to do it anyway, for my kids.

Until this morning when I realized that:

1. Y could go with her youth group. (she expressed her desire to go with me, which made me feel all warm and fuzzy, but I knew that she would have a lot more fun with her youth group!)

2. MD had Sayarut (Scouts) and would want to go to that. (Sure enough, he called from school to ask if he could to to a friend's house and from there to Sayarut.)

Which just left A, who then called and asked to come with me to the pool today.

Well, that made my life easier.

I emailed/called all my students' parents to make sure they realized we had swimming lessons today (I had forgotten to confirm or cancel classes for Yom Yerushalyim, so I had to call them either way).

Then A and I went to the pool. A played. I taught.

And I thanked God that my kids were growing up.

Because, truthfully, though I love the rikudgalim, I really was too tired to do it this year.

Maybe it is the cancer; maybe it is my age; maybe it is a little of both.

I am happy to gracefully bow out, and let the next generation take over!



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA