There are many times in our lives when we stop and realize, "OK, this is significant, this is one of those times you'll always remember."
One of those moments happened in the spring of 2009 when our eldest grandchild, Ariella, sang and danced with about 40 other Israeli kids in a groundbreaking event for their neighborhood shul. Knowing that she was now part of normative Israeli life, and that she and all of the other kids singing and dancing, most pretty badly, were going to be the future of the country, was enough to choke me up big time.
Another moment, among many we've had since our daughters made aliyah in 2008 and we made
aliyah in 2012, came this past week when that same little girl graduated from 6th grade.
The graduation event took place at Migdal David in Jerusalem - a historic and dramatic setting for sure, but the site itself was kind of overshadowed by the meaning of the event itself.
All of the kids, and there sere several hundred I believe, were involved in the presentation, which took 2 hours (beware, pre-aliyah'ers - every single school event takes at least two hours, even gan graduations). There were dances, songs, poems, and instrument playing.
At one point each kid had an Israeli flag in his/her hand and marched around the paths of Migdal David - waving and singing.
Just think about it - each and every child in this graduating class will some day finish high school and go on to the Army to protect our country and our people. Just knowing that gave me shivers - each of them has such an important stake in my own personal future and in the future of the Jews.
Knowing what is ahead of them, I can't help but believe that these kids have a much different view of their future than their peers in other countries - they know what's coming, they have such a strong, deep sense of purpose - and this is something they grew up with.
Another end of year event was my grandson Amichai being "interviewed" for first grade - when the principal asked him what he wanted to be, he said, "B'ezrat Hashem, a chayal [soldier], then an engineer."
B'ezrat Hashem.
One of those moments happened in the spring of 2009 when our eldest grandchild, Ariella, sang and danced with about 40 other Israeli kids in a groundbreaking event for their neighborhood shul. Knowing that she was now part of normative Israeli life, and that she and all of the other kids singing and dancing, most pretty badly, were going to be the future of the country, was enough to choke me up big time.
Another moment, among many we've had since our daughters made aliyah in 2008 and we made
aliyah in 2012, came this past week when that same little girl graduated from 6th grade.
The graduation event took place at Migdal David in Jerusalem - a historic and dramatic setting for sure, but the site itself was kind of overshadowed by the meaning of the event itself.
All of the kids, and there sere several hundred I believe, were involved in the presentation, which took 2 hours (beware, pre-aliyah'ers - every single school event takes at least two hours, even gan graduations). There were dances, songs, poems, and instrument playing.
At one point each kid had an Israeli flag in his/her hand and marched around the paths of Migdal David - waving and singing.
Just think about it - each and every child in this graduating class will some day finish high school and go on to the Army to protect our country and our people. Just knowing that gave me shivers - each of them has such an important stake in my own personal future and in the future of the Jews.
Knowing what is ahead of them, I can't help but believe that these kids have a much different view of their future than their peers in other countries - they know what's coming, they have such a strong, deep sense of purpose - and this is something they grew up with.
Another end of year event was my grandson Amichai being "interviewed" for first grade - when the principal asked him what he wanted to be, he said, "B'ezrat Hashem, a chayal [soldier], then an engineer."
B'ezrat Hashem.
Just wait until you get to high school graduations - 3 hours, minimum.
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Tears...so many tears...
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