My soldier son was home for this past Shabbat. It was really nice to have him home and I was looking forward to lively Shabbat meals and shmoozing. 

On Friday at 3 p.m., he got a call to get back to base. He was in Jerusalem and called to tell us. He arranged for my husband to drive him and his friend back to base. The area he’s serving in was heating up and everyone had to get back asap.

I offered him food, which he was happy to take. 

For some “unknown reason”, my daughter had made a huge pot of kubbeh soup for the first time; she’d also baked extra challah and cinnamon buns, so we packed them up for him. 

I had an extra chicken and rice dish in the freezer, so I packed up what I had made that morning. We were getting organised and were pretty pleased with what we had to give him.

And then, slowly, more details came his way. 40 guys were coming back to base, and there wasn’t enough cooked food to go around. 

I told him I would see what I could do. 

At 3.48 I sent this message out to 3 WhatsApp groups and put it on my status: ”Our........

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