Summer Insomnia

At 3:23am I just couldn't fall asleep.  Since about 11:45pm I had been attempting to go to sleep.  At 12:00am the Israeli government was making good on their promise to start releasing 26 (of 104) Palestinian terrorists.  Most were released to their homes in Judea (where I live), Samaria, and Gaza.  This move was made as precondition to get the Palestinians to the negotiating table for peace.  Let me reiterate... we, Israel, have so far released 26 convicted murderers back to their homes throughout the West Bank and Gaza.  

Disgusting.  Infuriating.  Unheard of anywhere in the world but here.  Anger and resentment boils over inside of me like a volcano close to erupting.  I'll get back to that.  Let me back up...

At about 7:30pm Tuesday evening I was driving from Tekoa to Jerusalem when I saw something unusual at the traffic circle by Herodian.  As I approached and slowed down I saw what must have been roughly 100 Arab villagers converging on the traffic circle, blocking traffic, and exiting their cars. Simutaneously I saw Israeli army jeeps arriving and IDF soldiers dressed in full riot gear walking towards the crowd.  Nothing was happening... yet.  No one was yelling or screaming, but my heart was pounding in my ears so loud that I could no longer hear the music playing on my radio.  Suddenly an Arab man starts waiving at me to drive forward, into the crowd.  At this point I was the first car in what was quickly becoming a traffic jam on my side of the road.  I saw an opening in the crowd and cars and I floored it.  The some 30 seconds it took me to get to the other side of the mass of people felt like an eternity.  I prayed, "Hear me Ha'Shem, grant me safe passage to their other side of this road.  Protect me, protect the other travelers, protect our soldiers.  I don't know what is happening or why, nor do I currently care.  Just protect us."  I silently thanked Ha'Shem as I drove and pushed 140km/hr racing towards the checkpoint to enter Jerusalem.  Thank you Ha'Shem, for allowing me to learn how to drive and handle any car.

Later, after driving back home on the same road, which was now deserted and silent, I again offered up a prayer of gratitude.  "May this be the worst of what I experience in my days living in Israel," I concluded.

Will it be the worst?  My ideological and hopeful peace-loving side of my self fervently hopes that it was.  The realist in me knows that is bull-shit!  She knows that I have only seen a sliver of the truth of what it means to be an Israeli.  

So there I sat, at 11:45pm reading news article after new article announcing the release of men like Raai Ibrahim Salam Ali.  Raai Ibrahim was arrested in 1994 and sentenced to life imprisonment for the murder - using an axe - of 79 year-old Morris Aizenshtat who was sitting on a park bench in Kfar Saba reading a book at the time.  Let me also reiterate that... Morris, a 79 year-old man, was sitting on a park bench reading a book when he was murdered by Raai Ibrahim with an axe.  An axe!  As of last night, Raai Ibrahim was most likely welcomed home to Gaza with party and fan fare as a true hero of the Palestinean people.  As I write this, I have to swallow hard to make sure that I don't throw up out of disgust and anger.  I cry with and for the Aizenshtat family (and many more), knowing that their loved ones murderer is a free man who is being celebrated as a hero.

Yet somehow, it is believed that all of this will bring peace?

As my insomnia kept my mind running and my adrenaline pumping I attempted many things to wear myself out.  I watched a movie.  I read a book.  I tried to meditate and breathe deeply.  Sometime after 3:00am the real noise started.  Pop, pop, blast, pop, pop, bang, blast, bang, bang... over and over and over again.  I haven't been here long enough to know the difference in the sounds of fireworks versus gunfire (apparently one develops an ear for these things), so I silently told myself that it must be fireworks... it was gunfire.  I rolled over, once again attempting to fall asleep.  Sometime around 4:00am (I'm not sure what time exactly) I hear the Muslim call to worship for morning prayers to begin.  The pops, bangs, and blasts had barely begun to lessen when the loud speakers kicked in from the Arab village across the way.  "Aaaaalllllllaaaahhh!!" it wailed, followed by a series of undecipherable chantings.  The speakers blared as if someone was standing outside my bedroom window with a mega-phone.  "Allah hu Akbar" it screamed through my sleepless mind (Allah is great).  At nearly 4:30am, you know what's really great?  SLEEP!

I am now sitting on my couch as the latest wave of pops and bangs and blasts echo across the waadi from their hilltop to ours.  Every sound amplifies the fury inside of me.  Each celebratory blast for them is another kick in the chest for us, knocking the wind out of our tired and frustrated sails.

The UN makes us, Israel, out to be the terrorists of the Middle East.  Somehow, we are still the bad guys.  As rockets are fired into Southern Israel, as murderers are welcomed home as heros throughout the West Bank and Gaza, and as Northern Israeli hospitals continue to care for and treat victims of the Syrian civil war, we are lauded as the 'bad guys'.  Despite, or maybe because of this, the resilience of Israelis is still unsurpassable.  This stops no one from living their lives.  It is currently two weeks before school starts up again, and Israelis are still vacationing in the Red Sea, jumping into waterholes, hiking, camping, shopping, going to movies, etc.  

These murderers are welcomed to their homes as freedom fighters, defenders of Allah, true heros.  This "bargain" for peace is nothing more than an incredibly harmful illusion and political manipulation at its finest.  If Bibi (Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu) really had balls, not one convicted murderer would leave jail.  Not one!  If John Kerry truly understood the history, pain, triumph, tragedy of the Middle East, then I'm sure he would be preaching a different path to peace.  America does not negotiate with terrorists, remember?  Why should we?

Despite my cynicism, I still pray for peace.  Real peace.  Lasting peace.  Despite the fighter jets and helicopters that seem to fly so low it rattles my apartment windows.  Despite the questionable pops and blasts that could either be fireworks or gunfire.  Despite seeing IDF dressed in riot gear approaching a group of Arabs who are blocking the road.  Despite it all, they, our Arab cousins, will NOT drive me out from my home.  They will not bully me into giving up my home.  They will continue to push until we are driven into the Mediterranean Sea.  We can not compromise with terrorism.  We can not compromise with bullies.  

Until then, the day of true, uncompromising, peace... all I can do is pray.

Shabbat HaGadol

From Tekoa, my yishuv in the Judean Desert, I have the most amazing views.  To the East I can see the Dead Sea and Jordan.  To the West I can see all the way past Bethlehem to Jerusalem.  We, the Jews of Judea and Sameria (also known as the West Bank) are not necessarily the hill top religious radicals that are depicted on the news.  We, the Jews of Tekoa, are the peace yearning, Zionistic, musicians, artists, writers, inventors, scholars, and laborers of the “disputed territories”.  We are religious, secular, and traditional.  We are Jews from all around the world who are passionately Zionistic and are living with strength and emmunah - faith.  My fellow “settlers” have lived through the Gulf War, 2 Intifadas, motolov cocktails, and stone throwings.  They are the epitiomy of strength, patience, and love for humankind.

Two weeks ago during the passing of my Israeli community’s spiritual leader, Rabbi Menahem Froman, I finally truly realized what was important... peace.  Rabbi Froman was known as an eccentric “Settler” Rabbi from the West Bank Village of Tekoa... the place I call home.  

At Rabbi Foman’s memorial service he was eulogized as the ‘Rabbi of Peace’.  He was seen as sometimes controversial, but he was known as a man of principle, a man of vision, a man of holiness.  He was a man of genuine spirit and passion who stood up for what he believed in.  His message was about peace through understanding and compassion.  Not just from Jew to Muslim, but also Jew to Jew, and human to human.  I think that we, as human beings, can get so entangled in the monotony of everyday life that we forget the beauty that is all around us.  That is what he taught us.  How to find the inherent goodness in our fellow human being.

On that particular windy Tuesday afternoon, thousands of people gathered in my little village in the Judean Hills to pay tribute to a man of unwavering values.  As he was on the way to his final resting place we, roughly 5,000 people, stood grave side with his wife, children, and grandchildren.  Before he passed away, Rav Menahem requested that everyone sing the song; “Eshet Chayil” - A Woman of Valor to his wife, Hadassah.  It was a powerful expression of love, romance, loss, and support to be part of thousands of people singing together for them both.

The song Eshet Chayil - A Woman of Valor is found in the book of Proverbs (31:10-31).  The lyrics, accredited to King Solomon, paint a beautiful picture of this man’s love for his wife.

אשת חיל מי ימצא. ורחק מפנינים מכרה...

A Woman of Valor, who can find?  She is more precious than corals...

בטח בה לב בעלה.  ישלל לא יחסר...

Her husband places his trust in her and profits only thereby..

כפה פרשה לעני. וידיה שלחה לאביון...

She opens her hands to the poor and reaches out her hands to the needy...

עז והדר לבושה. ותשחק ליום אחרון...

She is robed in strength and dignity, and she smiles at the future...

פיה פתחה בחכמה ותורה חסד על לשונה...

She opens her mouth with wisdom, and a lesson of kindness is on her tongue...

רבות בנות עשו חיל ואת עלית על כלנה...

Her children rise up and make her happy; her husband praises her: “Many women have excelled, but you excel them all!”...

שקר החן והבל היפי. אשה יראת יי היא תתהלל: תנו לא מפרי ידיה. ויהללוה בשערים מעשיה...

Grace is elusive and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears Gd -- she shall be praised...

Author, Mrs. Lori Palatnik says that... “The Jewish woman. If not for her, the Jewish people would still be enslaved in Egypt.”

She continues by saying that, “when Pharaoh decreed that all first-born Jewish males should die, the men decided to refrain from relations with their wives so as not to bring any more children into this world. The women realized that Gd would indeed save them and bring them out of Egypt, so they went to their husbands in order to bring more Jewish children into the world. Their faith and foresight were said to have merited the redemption from Egypt of the entire Jewish people.”

She so eloquently points out that, “the Jewish woman [was] the one who was offered the Torah first from Moses. After Moses received the Torah from Gd at Mount Sinai, he offered it first to the Jewish women, for he knew that if they accepted it, it would become part of the Jewish people for all time.  It was the Jewish woman who, in the face of adversity, held steadfast to her trust in the Almighty, even when those around her did not.  The Jewish woman was who time and time again saved the Jewish people through her insightfulness, virtue, and belief in Gd.”

According to the Talmud, it is the Jewish woman, in whose merit the Messiah will come and the final redemption of the Jewish people.  

Today the Jewish woman, is the one entrusted with the responsibility of maintaining the three mitzvot central to the Jewish home: kashrut, Shabbat, and mikvah.

If not for her, where would we be? There would be no home, no family... no Jewish people. On Friday night, she sits as the queen of her table, while all those around her sing her praises. And rightly so.

She is the Eishet Chayil, the Woman of Valor, who sets the tone of love, spirituality, and personal growth for all those around her. To know her is to appreciate her strength and talents.

Rabbi Froman asking to have this song sung to his wife was a showing of true love and gratitude to his wife, Hadassah.

As we are now gathered here... together on this Shabbat, the Shabbat HaGadol, and look towards the coming days and the beginning of Passover we should be sure to remember from where we have come and to where we are destined to go.  We must remember that time is circular and not linear.  This is therefore the time of the Shabbat before the great Exodus from Egypt.  The Shabbat where we prepared lamb for dinner and painted our doorposts signaling the Angel of Death to pass over.  Our last moment of slavery and our transcendance to freedom.   This is the beginning of our true identity, the people of the book... our holy Torah.  50 days after the first seder we will celebrate Shavuot and the receiving of the Torah on Mt Sinai.  It is a time of great introspection and evaluation.  Are we still a nation of free people called the Jews?  Have we still been charged with the enormous task of being a light unto the nations?

At Rabbi Menahem’s funeral I saw my own understanding of these questions.  We are free.  We are free to choose who we want to be and how we will be that person.  We are free to truly understand one another and have compassion for one another.  We are free to open our minds and hearts to unwavering love.  Emancipated from physical, mental, and emotional slavery.  

As Rav Bob Marley says, “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery.  None but ourselves can free our minds.”  

I have been blessed to have moved to one of the most beautiful places in the world.  I am truly thankful each day that a pair of Divine Tweezers picked me up and plopped me down in the “West Bank”.  I was mentally enslaved into the entrapment of modernity.  Only looking outwards and never looking inwards.  That is my Exodus.  My own personal Exodus of self imposed shackles.  

I have been living in Israel for nearly three years now and this past November I got my first real taste of what it actually means to be Israeli.  Hundreds of rockets were fired into Israel from the Hamas run Gaza strip, reaching as far as Tel Aviv and even to my neighborhood, the Gush Etzion bloc of Judea.  One Friday night as I was home and lighting my Shabbat candles I heard a siren begin to wail through my village.  No one thought that we were in the range of rockets from Gaza, but still I ran to my secure room.  As I leaned out my window to grab and close my steel reinforced shutters, I saw two rocket trails over a neighboring hill followed by a BOOM BOOM!  I slammed my windows shut and sat in stunned silence.  Another siren began to wail, this time followed by an announcement, “Tzevah Adom, Tevah Adom, Code Red, Code Red.”  My permanent reality changed at this point in my life.  I am an Israeli now.  In the days following, I watched as my friend’s and neighbor’s husbands packed their bags and immediately left for reservists duty.  These brave souls proudly answering their call to duty are the modern day heros of the Jewish people.  Over and over again we are threatened with annihilation and over and over again we cry, “NEVER AGAIN!”  

So here we are roughly 3,300 years after leaving Egypt.  A free people.  We can live anywhere, we pray anyway, we are free to be us... Jews.  The champions of tikun olam.  Entrusted with the torch of not only just going out into the world to well, but going out into the world to do good.  

15 years ago I stood here, in this very place, as a scared and confused teenager declaring my disdain for what I believed was a cruel Gd... if Gd even existed at all.  I looked out into the world and I only saw darkness.  I saw no light, no holiness, no Gd.  I stand before you today as an equally confused adult, but a more humble one and a person who yearns only to find the good, beauty and holiness in this world.  I have learned that when I screamed and yelled for Gd to answer me and was so positive that Gd was not there that it was not Gd who had gone anywhere... it was me.  As soon as I came back to see if Gd was still around... there He was waiting to embrace me like a parent embracing their child, welcoming them home.

I have learned from living on a yishuv (aka settlement) the true meaning of peace and harmony.  I have allowed myself to focus on the light in the world instead of the darkness because out of the darkness comes light.  In the darkest places we can light a candle that’s brightness will spread and illuminate.  It is the light of hope and emmunah.  

Settlers

This fantastic piece was written by a friend and neighbor of mine when we took a creative writing class together here in Tekoa.  Thank you Debbie for allowing me to share.  

== SETTLERS == 

by Debbie Rosenzweig

“Oh, you look different than I expected,” she observed aloud, scanning me from top to bottom and back again over her maroon plastic rimmed glasses. She clearly considered it a compliment, smiling as she edited the data entry she had filed away about me in her brain based on our previous conversations. Gila is the distributor of one of the English text book companies that I use to teach my students in the elementary school in Tekoa, a village located in the Gush Etzion settlement of the West Bank. Like other places of a similar status, Tekoa is considered legal by Israeli law and illegal by international law; the strongest safeguard of our security by some, the strongest obstacle to peace by others; the essence of our heritage and identity by some, the epitome of racism and apartheid to others.

Gila and I were meeting to discuss the most effective way in which to use the text books. After several obnoxious phone conversations, we had decided to meet in a coffee shop in Jerusalem, because she refused to cross “the Green Line” to get to the dangerous settlement I call home, no doubt picturing a smattering of caravans studded with bullet wounds, personally guarded by gun-toting religious fanatics foaming at the mouth.

“What did you expect?” I challenged, as I sat in the empty chair beside her. My response threw her off guard, as I knew it would. “Oh, I don’t know,” she stammered, “how long did it take you to get here?” Classic subject change. “Ten minutes,” I shrugged triumphantly, choosing to trim it down by eight minutes to make her feel stupid, instead of exaggerating in the opposite direction to make her feel guilty about dragging me out here. “That’s it?” she blurted out, surprised.  “Sure,” I responded nonchalantly. Mission accomplished.

Over the course of the following hour and a half, Gila repeatedly complimented me on my intelligence, my analytical skills, and my concern for the students, noting in typical Israeli fashion that she really hadn’t liked me over the phone. Thanks. The feelings are mutual. My disdain for her increased with each patronizing accolade, culminating with her final confession: “I just thought you were going to be, like a – like a – mitnachelet!” she confessed, referring to a female settler, often seen wandering suspiciously through illegal territories wearing far too much mismatched fabric, splattered with the vomit of her own babies and the blood of her neighbors, leading a pack of wild, predominately male children with matching fleeces and disheveled sidelocks, tzittzit blowing furiously in the desert wind.

“There are all sorts of people in Tekoa,” I explained, exhibiting great intelligence and concern for my ignorant, offensive student, “secular, religious, American, Russian, French…”. “French?!?” she interrupted, trying to Photoshop a cultured European with high heels and even higher moral standards into her image of the occupied territories. We soon wrapped up the meeting and promised to be in touch, but our interaction stayed with me as I caught busses and hitchhikes back to my home, such a mystery to so many people in this country.

Just over half a year ago I was busy with my own deliberations about moving here; what about convenience, security concerns, political statements, community? I had recently returned from several months of volunteering in Nepal with an Israeli NGO along with American and Israeli Jews, mostly secular, anti-capitalist, vegetarian left -wingers who looked at me and my bearded, skullcap wearing then-fiancé with confusion and distrust. After months of building relationships, breaking stereotypes, and pretending to help disadvantaged Nepali children, I told one of my friends that we were thinking of moving to Tekoa. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to visit you there,” she explained, “but I refuse to go somewhere that I am so ideologically opposed to.” When she did come visit months later, she was shocked by what she saw – long-legged Russian women in short shorts walking their dogs, secular and religious teens hanging out together at the pool, beautiful, permanent homes with lovely gardens, and a breathtaking view of the Judean desert.

A place which seeks to both destroy labels and respect those that others choose to use forces us to challenge our prejudices while maintaining our sense of hard earned identity and lifestyle.  I remember the confusion I experienced when I left seminary and went to study in Bar Ilan University. I had self righteously donated all my pants and immodest clothing to charity and moved to Israel, to what I thought was a holy world of black and white capital T truths, only to date a religious guy who didn’t believe in the messianic redemption, learn heresy from highly respected Jewish history and philosophy professors, and see young married women wandering around campus in head scarves and pants. Pants! I resisted such dangerous temptations, holding on to the absolute truths that had given me no choice but to abandon my family, friends and lifestyle to move to a warzone, yet the world I was building for myself was already starting to shake.

Now, several years later, I find myself at home here, in this pluralistic, mixed settlement, representing people all across the religious, ideological, ethnic and cultural spectrum. I take great pleasure in being unable to tell which of my students are from observant homes, in not having to worry about being judged by my outfit, in hearing Spanish, Russian, French, Hebrew and English in the streets, in sharing my space with people who are different from me, and, of course, in sticking it to the Gilas of the country, showing them what a true mitnachelet is really like.

Video Intermission

As I continue to take the time to make the necessary preparations for my big trip to the states, I've been finding it hard to take the time to sit down and write...

In light of that dilemma I have decided that for the next few weeks I will be sharing links to videos and articles that I think are of interest or importance as opposed to posting articles.

I am in the process of writing a few larger pieces that I hope to share in the very near future.  In the mean time, please watch these two videos from Danny Ayalon.

= JERUSALEM =

= THE TRUTH ABOUT THE REFUGEES =

As we approach the Passover season I wish everyone a kosher and happy holiday.  

= JUST FOR FUN =

Going Up

This week, in honor of the two year anniversary of alliyah (immigration to Israel), I would like to share a piece of writing that I did for a creative writing class I'm taking in Tekoa... Enjoy!

*

It's been two years, as of today... February 9th, since I stepped off that El Al flight into Ben Gurion International airport in Tel Aviv.  Two years since that completely anti-climatic first day as an Israeli citizen.  "Here you are, Miss Neal.  It's your Teudat Oleh (new immigrant card).  You're now an Israeli citizen," the woman said in a 'matter-of-fact' way.

There was no one dramatically kissing the ground like I was told there would be, blessing the holy ground of Israel.  Although my dad said they did on his trip to Israel, no one sang "Hatikvah" (Israeli national anthem) as the plane landed.  I was 29 years old and traveling alone, moving alone to the other side of the planet.  As if some sort of Divine tweezers picked me up out of Bakersfield, California and plopped me down in a West Bank village in Israel.  Now, two years later, I find myself sitting in my cousin's living room listening to friends and family play music.

It's in moments like these, when I find myself lost in the beat of gypsy jazz, Israeli folk songs, and classic rock that I take account of both my blessings and how much my life has changed.  In my cousin's living room with people who less than three years ago I didn't know at all, I feel at home.  The wood burning stove and peach colored couches fill me with familiarity and a sense of belonging.  The roughly 20 neighbors and friends all crowed into the living room singing along creates a feeling of intimacy and love.

"L'chaiim!"  To life.  Another round of shots are poured as toasts are made to a new week, a good week, a week of peace.  May gladness rain, and joy increase.
 

This picture, this love filled living room reminds me of why I picked this place to live.  My yishuv (village) is a mixed community of religious and non-religious Jews; Ashkenazim (those of European decent) and Sephardim (those of Middle Eastern decent); French, Russian, North American, and Australian Jews; Israelis of several generations and new immigrants.  The common factor is a love of Israel:  Zionism.  My kippah (skull cap) wearing tarbuka playing friend sitting near my secular guitar playing cousin illuminates some of the many reasons I choose to live in a "settlement".

I never knew how lost I was.  I never knew how much I longed for a Jewish community.  I never knew how badly I wanted to forge a new life.  It's impossible to know how lost you are until you are found.  It's impossible to know what was missing in life, until that void has been filled.  It's impossible to know how desperate my need was for a drastic change until I made one.  Now, to the beat of tarbukah (African drums) and the melodies of the piano, guitar, violin, mandolin, and harp... I am found.  Now, as I sit together with new friends and family I know that this is where I'm meant to be.  That Ha'Shem had a plan for me all along.

Although I think some people in America think I've gone crazy, I know the truth.  They watch gruesome news articles depicting zealous hill top settlers, toting guns, at war with Arab neighbors.  That must be where they think I've moved.  To some remote desert outpost, plotting the demise of everyone who doesn't think like me, act like me, pray like me.  As the music continues to play, I laugh to myself.  They don't see what I see.  They don't know what I know.  Yes, now I live in the desert on the other side of the "green line" in a small community in Judea, called Tekoa.  I live simply and peacefully with new neighbors and friends.

As I sit together with friends in this room so far away from what I called home I flash back to what my life used to be.  Fancy cars, meeting celebrities and wearing high heels feels like a whole other life time ago.  Hitch hiking, wiping runny noses and sensible walking shoes is my new life.  My life has transformed from discussions over the latest trend or celebrity sighting to talks about the peace process and where I am finding myself "religiously".

Now, after spending the majority of the last few years in Israel, I find myself on a path of religious, spiritual and political exploration and enlightenment.  Although I'm still figuring it all out for myself I know that in a country of every type of Jew I could ever think of I can find what is right for me.  I feel as though it is our obligation as human beings, not just Jews, to find truth.  Truth, meaning and enlightenment for ourselves, not for anyone else... just for us as individuals.  I think it's enormously important to ask questions and find purpose in our lives.  To find a place within ourselves for openness and acceptance.  A place of love, peace and harmony even if it means moving to the other side of the world to do it.

As we enter the Hebrew month of Adar we should remember that this is the month of happiness and joy.  I bless you all to find as much as I have of both in the coming month! 

The Truth

There seems to be an erie silence happening in Israel right now.  So much has happened in the past few months that I'm afraid to admit that right now feels like the calm before the storm.  On January 22 we will be electing a new Prime Minister and polls are leading to a shift in the Kennesset (the house goverment) to the right.  I believe that the results in this election will determine the future in the middle east.  The Palestinian Authority's (PA) Abbas is continually refusing to come to the negotiating table with our current Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.  They currently want all negotiations to begin with many preconditions.  In my humble opinion; peace talks should begin with the mutual agenda of PEACE and not "peace on the condition of..."  PA officials continue to demad Israel accept the indefensible 1949 Armistice lines as borders, free all Arab terrorists from its jails, and again freeze construction before talks of peace can resume.  The PA also refuses to acknowledge Israel's right to exsist at all.  How can peace be made under these conditions?  I'm not asking rehtorically.  I really want to know!  I have no idea how to make it happen. 

This fantastic video clearly and concisely describes the truth about the West Bank and the Palestinian conflict.

This second video is an excellent description of the history that we have seen in trying to make peace with the PA. 

 

 

What do we learn from both of these videos?  That we have a long way to go before peace will be attained in the middle east.  There is not much else I can add to this, but both of these 2 videos clearly and effectively describe what it is that I'm struggling to put into words.  We will continue to see how events unfold as we near the election on January 22.  Stay tuned!

 

I pray that we see peace in our time.  Real peace.  Lasting peace.  I hope that this new year, 2013 bring lots of blessings of peace and happiness to all of us.  Happy New Year!