We were in and out of our communal shelter! Our apartment block is a diverse mix of the faces of Israel: Haredi, Traditional, Secular and Muslim. Over last Shabbat, when the war broke out, and the sirens began to wail at ear piercing level, there were more than 50 of us in our shelter.

For the uninitiated, what happens to set off this process — and the rapid beating — and missing-of-the-beat-heart, is that we first get an extremely noisy alert, an initial warning, on our mobile phones, from our amazing Home Front Command, informing us that a rocket and missile attack is imminent – and that we need to be prepared.

In the next stage, a few minutes later, another siren goes off on our phones –  and if the missile is headed in our direction, loud sirens blast outside, and just in case one may be hard of hearing – or in denial (!), in unmistakable red, bold print on our phones, we are told to get to the shelter immediately! Simultaneously, on TV, all the areas where the missiles are expected to hit, are highlighted in an ongoing, seemingly never – ending, heartbreaking loop.

Our shelter is on the first floor – we live on the third, and while we  try not to panic, this is the most anxiety-provoking part of the process, since almost immediately, even before we are on the run to safety, we hear the banging of doors and at times screams, as our neighbors, a number of them with babes in arms,  exit their apartments; we hear booms, sometimes extremely loud, the windows and doors of our apartment are shaking and rattling, and for the paranoid, it feels almost as if you are being targeted!

A few nights ago, a highway less than a kilometre from us, which we frequently use, was cratered by a missile. The sound was so violently loud and admittedly, very scary, that we felt as if our building had taken a hit.

When we get to the shelter, and the door behind us is heaved shut, we need to remain ensconced for at least 10 nervous minutes:  post – interception is the most dangerous time to be outside and exposed: missile shrapnel from the hit, falls all over the place and can be – and has been, tragically, fatal.

In the thick-walled, hopefully impenetrable bomb-proof shelter itself, there is an atmosphere of reasonably good cheer and while inwardly, we may be a little scared and on shpilkes, outwardly, we chat, metaphorically hold hands, give each other support and encouragement – even though our hearts are palpitating. We distract the kids who seem to be lighthearted, and see it as a game, or in context, a Purim shpiel. We even drink a L’chaim on Purim in the shelter!

When the coast is clear, we get another alert on our phone, indicating that it’s now ok to exit the shelter. As you can imagine, this release back to our freedom and security, is accompanied by a huge, grateful sigh of relief.

We have been in and out of the shelter since Shabbat – sometimes up to 6-7 times a day — if not more – even today, but we are constantly hearing alerts.

There have been occasions where as we got back to our front door, just when it seemed to be “safe to get back into the water,” the sirens start all over again – and it’s back to our welcoming, camaraderie-filled, and almost, believe it or not, homely space.

A former prime minister once described Israel as a villa in a jungle. Hopefully, the overgrown, menacing and poisonous weeds, the inhospitable bush, the dense, dark, dank forests, and the long, treacherous grass around us – where evil and our worst nightmares reside, will be eliminated – and in our time!

Maybe wishful and naive thinking but it’s the eternal hope — Hatikvah, “to be a free people in our own land, the land of Zion and Jerusalem,” that drives and motivates us, and constantly propels us, undeterred, forward.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)