Note: Picture credited to the Israeli Ministry of Tourism (www.goisrael.com)

About the Dead Sea

And so we continued on our trek. Leaving Netanya behind, we headed in the direction of the Dead Sea. This time we knew where we were going. That was a change. My husband’s relatives were able to make a hotel reservation for us near the Dead Sea for several nights.

The Dead Sea region is the lowest point on Earth. The Dead Sea is a lake located in the desert area. It is known to have many therapeutic qualities and have attracted many people in search of healing and beauty remedies. The lake is also considered to contain the most minerals in the world. Even the air in that area is considered to be very healthy because of the minerals. Because it is the lowest point on Earth, the oxygen level in the air is very high, which makes it easier to breathe.

Once again, we traveled by bus. As our bus started its approach to the Dead Sea region, I began to sense a very strange feeling inside of me. I did not know what it was, but it was very different.

The feeling was new to me; it felt like something was waking up inside of my soul. It felt as if I was transitioning from being in a black-and-white movie into a colored movie. You know, when for the first time we can see more details and different dimensions that we did not even notice before. Something was coming to life.

It will take several days before all the colors will get manifested. With that, something else happened. My son became more than a voice that I could hear; now I could see his image as a hologram. It took several days before that hologram became more vivid and sharp.

It was as if someone was working to perfect the hologram. Or maybe they were working on me, on my “instruments,” on my antennas, so to speak. Whatever the case, it was slowly developing, and as it developed, it shifted from a grayish, fog-looking color to a full-spectrum color.

This process also reminded me of an old-fashioned way of developing photos, which I used to do with my dad as a child sitting in the dark room and watching and waiting for the photo to become alive. There was something magical in that whole process, when the image slowly develops after being washed in different baths of chemicals. 

The hologram, the screen with my son, became extremely real, to the point of creating the feeling of being tangible. Yet in later days when I tried to hold my son’s hand, my hand went through his hand.

Then it hit me again, the realization that I would never be able to touch the solidity of my son. Do not ask me how I felt. But I can tell you that only at the Dead Sea was I able to see my son that clearly. Only there and nowhere else the ability to see a hologram was available for me. Only there, at the Dead Sea.

Right there, in the bus, I knew right away that this will be a very special place. We arrived in the afternoon. Checked ourselves into the hotel.

That day was extremely hot, over 100 degrees. We rested for a while and went to catch a sunset and have an evening swim.

The Sunset at the Dead Sea

From the first moment we came close to the area of the Dead Sea till our last moment there at every corner, something else was waiting for us, something else was happening. I will never forget our first sunset there. Never.

Here we were, being immersed in so salty waters, watching as the sun started its descent. Right there, I noticed a silver lining with soft blues and grays. I was glued to the vision and kept looking and looking and looking when suddenly I so clearly saw angels standing on the border of the Dead Sea, singing. They were so large, so magnificent.

I now have no idea what I noticed first, their singing or them, just standing there. I could hear the sun setting in, the same way as we can hear and see every particle of sand in an hourglass falling independently and hitting the bottom.

I could see every single movement of the sun as if it was framed and then enlarged. As I was watching in awe, a thought entered my mind:

“If there is a place for G-d on Earth, not Heaven, but here with us on Earth, and if Earth is the home of G-d, just as for us, then here must be his bedroom/boudoir. The Dead Sea must be the place where he comes to unwind and enjoy a cup of coffee.”

It was something majestic, something very calming, something soothing, and something magnetic in that sunset. You must see it. You must witness it. The words pale in the face of what I saw that day. 

During our stay at the Dead Sea, I was continuously able to see and hear angels at every sunrise and sunset. I was fortunate to have seen many sunrises and sunsets in my life at different parts of the world.

I saw those sunrises and sunsets at different stages of my life, whether in sorrow or in happiness. However, none of those sunsets and sunrises were able to affect me in such a profound level as the ones here at the Dead Sea.

There was subtle calmness in the milky, silvery, and pinkish brushes of color in the sky. There I saw the true magic of a day being brought to Earth on the wings of angels and carried back to Heaven later on. Never before have I experienced days and hours, being accompanied by heavenly orchestra, delivered to us on the wings of angels. 

Staying at the Dead Sea

The Dead Sea happened to be for us an incredibly special place. We stayed in the Dead Sea for a long time because it was the only place where I could hear, see, and get in touch with my son in such a deep way. I did not want to leave.

There was something so special about this area that when my son spoke to me, it felt as if he was physically present. It felt as if the layer between Heaven and Earth did not exist. It was almost to the point that my visions of my son were close to becoming a physical manifestation.

His spiritual presence almost equaled his physical presence. I still do not know why that was the case, but what I experienced there has left a profound and lasting impression on me.

I remember, that few days before leaving, I told my husband I was going to steal a spoon from the kitchen and dig a cave so I won’t have to leave.:) After we left that area, I never again experienced anything close to what I was witnessing then.

After we left, the vividness of my son’s presence and clarity within our communication once again became more distant. I dreamed of returning to the Dead Sea again one day.

Therefore, we ended up staying at the Dead Sea for almost three weeks. Since we did not have hotel reservations for all the weeks, we moved from one room to another, from one hotel to another throughout the three weeks. The maître d’hôtel of all the hotels got to know us and would call us whenever they had a cancellation.

All the cancellations happened to be one of the best suites in the hotels. And with every cancellation, the prices were also adjusted. Tell me if this is not a pure manifestation of the grace of G-d!

At one point, we stayed in a two-bedroom suite for the same price as a one-bedroom suite. With an amazing view! Pure luxury. So we were in the position to invite my husband’s relatives, who were so kind to us, to stay with us for a day or so. They too were happy to join us. Why not?

Every day we were pushed to trust that our needs would be provided. We had to trust that as long as we needed to stay in that area, we would have a place to stay. 

The only inconvenience was that for every three to five days, we would have to walk to another hotel. Or just change a room. In the end, we had stayed in four to five different hotels. They were all nice and pleasant.

“G-d has a plan for you”

As I was lying in the shades in another very hot day on the Dead Sea, I saw my son approaching me from the site of the sea. It looked as if he was walking on the water. He was walking in my direction. I watched his every step.

He stood next to me and looked in my eyes, and when our eyes met, he quietly asked me to repeat after him. Repeat what? What?

Only one phrase: “God has a plan for me.” That is all.

“Just that,” he said. “Nothing else. Just this.”

He waited. He was patient. I could not bring myself to say so.

I could hear the tearing of my insides, as if it was some kind fabric. I struggled. With what? Old life programming? The breaking of a paradigm?

He still was waiting. My son was waiting. The tears were rolling as a river. I was silently crying. Could not talk.

Really could not do anything at the moment. Could not speak. My tongue was numb. Was I paralyzed? Was I under a spell? What was it?

My lips started to move. It seemed as if I was a fish on the floor of the boat. Still no sound.

My soul started to scream. No sound. No voice. I had no voice. In my pain, I had no voice!

My soul had no speaking ability. My brain, my mind, was living life by itself. My soul could not verbalize what my son asked me to. He was waiting.

Then he said, “Say, Mom, say, ‘God has a plan for me.’ Repeat after me. ‘God has a plan for me.’”

I tried to grasp his hand, took a deep breath, and was able to whisper, “G-d has a plan for me.”

The struggle was over. When I said the words aloud, something snapped inside. It was as if this was my first time hearing this line. This statement.

It felt to me as if I NEVER heard that before. I actually thought at that time, “What a profoundest notion! How did I not know that before?”

It was very weird. It felt like this was the first time I truly recognized the powerful meaning behind this line.

It’s like hearing “I love you” from many different people, many times . . . but then . . . one day hearing it from a very specific person . . . the one you too truly love . . . and that special moment . . . hearing “I love you” changes your life forever.

That is exactly how I felt. That is exactly how special all these sounded to me, and it had a meaning. I knew it was true! I knew that my son told me the truth!

Hearing the same phrase NEVER felt as truth to me. So overused, nothing more than a popular saying. It was an empty phrase. Without a true meaning attached. Something that we, people, usually say. You get that? Yes?

However, that day, I felt through the shakiness inside my body and soul that that sentence, “G-d has a plan for you,” was alive and full of meaning and substance. It was alive and it was breathing. I felt its energy inside every bone and every cell of my body. As if I became a physical manifestation of that phrase. 

It was not only a spiritual-emotional level of experience but was also a somatic-cognitive level of experience. It had such an effect on me at that time that I wished I could call every single human, look into their eyes, and say, “G-d has a plan for you.” It is true. You know . . . it is true. 

To this day, I still cannot fully comprehend what exactly happened and how a simple rock under my feet that I stood over so many times became a shining diamond that emitted so much light that I am still closing my eyes in its brightness.

In the most challenging moments, I remember that G-d has a plan for me. As he has a plan for you too.

I also do not know how my son knew that my soul was absolutely numb and deaf to the meaning of that statement before. Why did he ask me to say so in the first place? From all the statements and beliefs that we have and hold, only this one phrase, only this one notion, only this one belief was presented to me then. Why?

Even today I have no answers to that. But I do know that having my son standing next to me in the middle of the day, looking into my eyes, and having me repeat that line over and over again with my voice created a break in the rock and brought the diamond to life.

That diamond became a tool that broke the stickiness of the web and the matrix of lies and brought down the projected paradigm of thinking that suggested otherwise. With every day, every moment I was becoming more and more metaphysically aware of my shortcomings and blind spots. Indeed, the Dead Sea became a very special place for us.

The odd thing remains that the most profound experiences I have had in Israel were in Tzfat, the highest point, and then the Dead Sea, which was the lowest point. Go figure!

10:40 a.m.

My dearest son,

I miss you so much. I do not even have the strength to talk about it. I have enormous pain inside of me because I miss you so. 

The thought of not being able to kiss you anymore is causing my tears to fall and my heart to break into pieces. You left me too early.

We are packing our luggage, and once again we are traveling to nothingness. This time, it is the Dead Sea. I have no idea why we are going there and what we need from there.

We are going to places according to whatever comes from the inside, from my hearing. We have been here for almost three weeks, but it feels like eternity. We have tickets for eight weeks. What are we going to do with all this time? I have no clue. 

However, I am going to wait and listen to you and go from there. I was dreaming about orphaned children all night.

Okay, my dearest son, I need to go. I love you very much and miss you like crazy.

Please continue to speak to me. I cannot breathe when you are not speaking to me. If you only knew how empty life is without you.

 

Note: Picture credited to the Israeli Ministry of Tourism (www.goisrael.com)

Trusting Process

Coming back from Tzfat, we spent another night with my husband’s relatives in Tel Aviv. We knew that the next day we will have to go to Netanya. Why? I don’t know. We had no reservations or any plans. Again!

We did not know. Except a feeling that we had to be there as our next step. Once again, lightly packed, we went to the bus station in the early morning and took a bus to Netanya.

Netanya is located north of Tel Aviv and is well known for its white beaches that are located right under the cliffs and facing the Mediterranean Sea. There is a line of seaside resorts that stretch along the cliffs.

Arriving to Netanya, we asked where the majority of hotels were and went to that direction. Since we did not have any reservations, we decided to check every hotel. So that is what we did. We walked into every hotel just to see if there were rooms available.

Since it was August and a high tourist season, every hotel was fully booked. Nothing was available. Nothing!

We began to feel discouraged, but then I remembered that my son said to trust the process. I also knew there must be a reason why we were called to come here. So we kept walking up the hill until we almost reached the last hotel. (Did I mention that I don’t like hills? It was a steep hill!). 

Our Miracle Hotel 

This particular hotel was almost the last hotel in the line of that cliff. It was also one of the most fancy hotels. Every room had a view of the sea. And what a view that was!

As we walked in the hotel, we noticed right away that the maître d’hôtel was Russian. It made it easier to communicate as we did not know Hebrew. And yes, almost everyone speaks fair English. Still . . .

At this point we were absolutely tired and exhausted from walking in the heat for several hours . . . up to the hill.

I knew that I absolutely must take a rest before walking again. I was totally fried. Out of breath, thirsty, hungry, with no energy left. I asked my husband to bring me water and to ask them to allow us to rest in their lobby, if they too did not have rooms. I thought that at least we could use their restaurant to eat. We needed to recoup and to think what to do next.

While I crashed on one of the lobby couches, waiting for water and all, my husband asked if any rooms were available. The answer was “no.” But they were kind enough to let us just be and to rest as long as we needed and to use their facilities.

The lobby was very well done. Gorgeous! The couches were so comfy, and the air was fresh and cool. The water was cold and crisp. Nothing was moving in me. I closed my eyes and just “went” somewhere.

I don’t know how long I was out, but a light touch on my shoulder brought me back. It was the maître d’hôtel. He could not see where my husband was, so he woke me up.

He wanted us to know that someone just called and canceled their group reservation that was scheduled to be checked in a few hours. Therefore, now not only one, but several rooms were available. He looked surprised.

We were told that we were free to choose any room we liked. He also said that because this group reservation got canceled at a very short note, our price for a room was going to be significantly reduced too.

So we ended up getting one of the best rooms at the lowest price. We were told that this has never happened. A group cancelation on such a short note. We were guaranteed a room for the next ten days.

Staying in Netanya

We were also told that all the hotels in Netanya were fully booked till the end of the vacation session. That we already learned on our own. And that people normally made reservations at least six months in advance. Well, agree, for a normal vacation, that would be the norm. But we were not on vacation. Therefore, we had to keep trusting our process.

Our room had an absolutely gorgeous view, quite large and very well kept. For sure it was a luxury setting. We ended up staying in this hotel for almost three weeks. During those weeks, as we were about to leave, we were notified that another room just got canceled . . . again.

Once again, we were invited to stay longer if we wished, and our prices once again were very well adjusted. We were only asked to move to another room. It was fine with us. No problem.

Every room in which we ended up staying in was simply amazing. I don’t know who were canceling the reservations and why, but let me tell you this: they knew what they were reserving. 

We were also told that back-to-back cancellations were extremely rare. We were advised to see this phenomenon that was happening with us as a miracle. So we did. 

Why Netanya?

During my stay in Netanya, I thought that nothing spiritual per se happened to me. After all, I did not see any dreams, visions, or anything out of the ordinary. My son did not even ask me to write anything, which confused me. I felt as if I was left alone. There were no messages, like in Tzfat. No writing. Very calm and quiet.

At that time, I did not feel my direct purpose of being in Netanya; it was too calm. I did not know “why” I was there. After all, the only thing we did were sleep, eat, and swim.

We even did not really talk. Kept to ourselves most of the time. As if each of us was in some kind of cocoon or a bubble. Protected from the outside world.

How blind was I? Very!

You see, most of our time there, I spent swimming in the sea. I spent almost all my time just sitting in the water. The water of the sea was warm and clean and calm most of the time. Just perfect. It felt as if I was just in a huge bathtub. So yummy. So great for me.

Why? Because I love water. Water is my element. When I am in the water, I always feel at home and loved. That is why swimming is such a huge part of my life. Starting from as long as I can remember myself. No one ever tried to teach me how to swim, when I was a child.

I knew how to swim on my own, from the first time I went into the water. That is why in our family, I was called a “dolphin.” And if there was an option to get to a destination by walking or by swimming, I always jumped in the water and was swimming, while everyone was just walking.

Once my grandmother took me on a vacation with her. The Black Sea. The Black Sea is a terrific sea. Loved it!

She, my grandmother, did not yet fully understand my connection with water. Not my love for that element. However, later on she told me that I swim like a “shark.” Without fear and alone.

True. I never had fear in the water, be that swimming in the warm waters or just jumping across the river in the early spring by using broken pieces of ice as my steps.

She said so that I swim like a shark, after witnessing my swim during a thunderstorm. For the first time, she saw me catching the biggest waves far away from the shore and laughing under the rain and with every hit of lightning.

Do you remember  Shakespeare:

“. . . fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;

Fear not slander, center rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.”

 From “Fear No More the Heat o’ the Sun.”

Well, so . . . I was fourteen or fifteen at that time. My grandmother also told me that I now was responsible for all her silver hair. I did not argue.

The vision of her running on the beach and screaming for me to get back to shore while I was just simply enjoying my swim remained with me for the rest of my life. My poor grandma, surviving me . . . and the sea . . . she never went traveling with me after that.

Who can blame her? But what could I do? I always loved swimming. Be that in the sea, river, or any other body of water. And during the rain . . . ? The best!

It feels amazing! Water in the sea or river, under the rain, feels very different. More soft and warm. That moment of uniting, when the water from below for the first time kisses and welcomes the water from above . . . finally they are together again . . . seamlessly connected again . . . something magical happens at that moment . . . I wanted to be there to witness it! I wanted to be a part of their reunion! 

And I have always loved lightning. Nothing comes close to the feeling that I had while swimming or just running in the open meadow during thunderstorm. Nothing!

Yet while staying in Netanya, I blocked that out. I blocked out the fact that water for me is the most healing and nurturing environment. And that inside the water I always feel at Home. Swimming in the warm waters of the sea . . . for me is the same as for a baby being held in the arms of a loving mother.

For me, the ocean or sea or river is not just a body of water. For me, it’s just a pure representation of love. Therefore, being in Netanya was a time of Divine love in its purest form. I understood that only later. 

 

Note: This image is not a view in Tzfat. It looks similar, but it was taken by me in Hawaii. I am still looking for a right image. We did not bring a camera to Israel. I had my reasons. Therefore, I do not own any images from our trip. 

Moving Forward

During our travels in Israel, we decided not to rent a car. Instead, we used public transportation. And sometimes taxi services. We really wanted to feel the energy of the people around us, of the land, and get a better grasp of the places we were traveling through. 

One of my hidden desires was to understand how people who had lost everything in WWII—families, homes—and were prosecuted and put through unbearable pain were still able to build this country. I wanted to learn and understand what gave those people such endurance and strength.

After all, they were my tribe. We were coming from the same roots. I really wanted to connect to the spirit of this brave nation in hopes that I too will find something within me to start to rebuild my life.

During our stay in Jerusalem, my husband was able to locate relatives in Tel Aviv. We called them and asked if we could drop off our luggage. They happily agreed and offered us to stay overnight in their home. That was a terrific option for us too.

In the morning of the next day, just carrying our son’s backpack, we took a bus from Tel Aviv to Tzfat.

Tzfat—Here We Are

Tzfat is located in the southern part of Upper Galilee. Tzfat is also known as the city of mystics. It is known as the highest city in Israel, about 3,000 feet above ocean level. It got its nickname because it’s considered to be the center of Jewish mysticism and Kabbalah.

The travel to Tzfat was peaceful and comfortable. The bus was very well air-conditioned. The seats were comfy, and observing the locals was very informative. We were like sponge soaking everything in.

After we were dropped off at the bus station, we were left without knowing where to go next. We had no plans. No plans! That was our approach. And we kept it!

Tzfat is a very hilly town. Repeat: a very hilly town! I am not a “hilly” person. I don’t like hills. I love flat. Anything to do with climbing—not my element. Do not like it. (Do not invite me to go hiking.:)) And do not ask me to see rooms on the second floor of your house regardless how amazing they may be. Not going to happen.

Yet here we were, facing a deep hill that was just in front of us. The bus was gone. We did not have breakfast, as we were leaving early. Now we were getting hungry. As we stood at the foot of the town, I suddenly felt a pull to the right side.

I went with the energy of the pull and ended up right to a sign that pointed to the old cemetery. I understood at that point that for some reason I needed to go to the old cemetery. We called a taxi and asked him to drop us in any local diner just to grab something to eat. He waited for us outside, and then we were driven to the cemetery that was located on the hillside below the Old Jewish Quarter.

I did not know why I was called to go there; however, we spent several hours walking between graves. Some of them were painted in a sky blue color, others in a darker blue. I noticed that I would stop and spend more time over one grave more than another.

After a few hours, I felt that strong pull of energy again taking us out of the old cemetery to another place. I followed the pull and ended up at the long line of steps where it took us to the street above the old cemetery. Did I mention that I hate stairs? Yet here I was, climbing stairs . . . a very long line of stairs . . . in the middle of August. It was late morning already. Thus, it was getting hot. Slowly we made it up and ended up in the small street with a small market.

The small marketplace was made up of several tables selling various objects. There was one table with five to eight jars with signs asking to help children left without parents. My husband and I left  donations in each jar and started to walk along the street.

The Spirit of Tzfat

As we were walking, suddenly I felt that I needed to turn left. We did. There I found a small gate, entered it, and found another gate leading to a very small cemetery located right on the slope of the hill.

I noticed a single small marble bench right on the edge. It was calling me. I came closer, and the panoramic view of Galilee opened up.

It was spread out in front of me and was utterly breathtaking. The view was simply a stunning beauty. There was something in the air, as if G-d’s presence was next to me. The wind was coming from the mountains and brushing right against my face.

There was something very special about that wind. I sat on the bench, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath of the wind. I felt an incredible peace entering my soul. I felt that I could sit here for hours and hours and hours.

I don’t know how long I was sitting with my eyes close and just enjoying the wind and the sun touching my face. Suddenly I heard someone calling out my name. I opened my eyes, but no one was around me.

The voice (a very soft one, with some echo as an undertone) told me to take out my notebook and start to write. So I did. This is what was recorded:

“Ella, Ella! Life on Earth is just a small point of a short time. Eternal life—eternal light—is what awaits us. Don’t rush. We will come to you.

Eternal life, eternal light, and eternal soul. One G-d, one soul, one destiny of many. Come to G-d, that is the path of men and women. G-d waits, calls, loves, and protects.

Your son is with us. He is safe. You shall continue your path, be blessed, be guided, be healed, be loved, come back. Now go, G-d bless. We are the spirit of Tzfat” (12:25 p.m.).

That was my first introduction to the spirit of Tzfat. This was also my first experience with hearing the voice within the wind.

Never before have I had such a vivid experience with hearing the wind and experiencing unexplainable pulls of energy that came to me as I stood right on the edge of the hill of Tzfat.

Israeli Soldier

After the wind stopped talking to me, I stood in awe. It was just a feeling of “wow” and more. I was still under the “spiritual influence” when I felt a light knock on my shoulder. I turned around; once again there was no one next to me.

Yet I started to feel a strong pull. It was “dragging” me somewhere. So I followed. When I reached one of the graves, it stopped. I stood there trying to understand what was happening.

The text was written in Hebrew language, so I could not understand what it said, but based on the unified look, I knew it was a military cemetery.

The grave by which I stopped was in the first row and was the third from the right. I did not know why I was pulled there until I saw the number 18, and I understood that the soldier buried there was the same age as my son.

I did not understand the connection between my eighteen-year-old son and the eighteen-year-old soldier. However, I knew that somewhere out there was another mother missing and mourning her eighteen-year-old son. I wished that I could meet her and tell her that I fully understand her pain. I wished I could give her a hug too. How is she? But maybe she already was next to her son.

The pain once again overwhelmed me, and tears started to flow again uncontrollably. I could not stay still any longer. I left the cemetery and went back to the streets in search of a stone.

I was looking for a stone to put on the young soldier’s grave to pay my respects. According to our tradition, we do not bring cut flowers to the grave; we bring stones or rocks.

After I found a suitable rock, I came back and placed it in the center of the ledger. Then I spent another fifteen minutes just watching the view of Galilee. I was not ready to go yet.

Then time came, and I felt that I needed go. As I was leaving the cemetery once again, the wind spoke to me and told me that one day I should come back. Here. To this cemetery. So the spirit of Tzfat was not done with me yet.

My husband and I did not go anywhere else that day. That was all that we visited at Tzfat. The only thing we did was purchase a white silk scarf with gold butterflies on one side and silver butterflies on the other at that small marketplace. As I was buying this scarf, I heard a whisper in my ear.

“Remember, eternal life, eternal light.” 

We called up the same taxi driver and asked to be taken back to the bus station. The bus was about to leave when we got dropped at the bus station. We were very fortunate as there was no wait time for us. We safely arrived at Tel Aviv several hours later.

 

Note: Pictures credited to the Israeli Ministry of Tourism (www.goisrael.com)

Here We Go

Going to Israel was not an easy task for me. I never took any vacations without my family—especially my children. Hence, going away with just my husband was a new experience. 

The last time I traveled alone was right before my marriage. After that, all the vacations and all traveling were tailored to the needs of the family, particularly the children. In a way, this trip to Israel was another reminder that the life I had before did not exist anymore.

It also was a terribly painful reminder about crushed plans and dreams. Just a few months before everything took place, our children were also talking about taking a trip to Israel. Together. Two of them. In the summer. I was helping them to arrange it. And now, here I was—packing. Not my children. But me!

Also, the trip itself was not normal per se. Nothing was preplanned, organized, or scheduled. Total and complete ambiguity. The trip was based on our sheer trust in Divine Providence and on its invitation to come. I trusted the guidance from my son as well. I had nothing left to fear. The worse already happened.

The only thing I did is to book the hotel in Jerusalem for the first few days. In the old city. So we could have a place to sleep at least for the first few days. That is about it. Neither of us, my husband or I, even knew what to plan or how to organize it being in the situation that we were in. It was not a vacation.

Therefore, exactly four months later since our son shifted, on August 18, I closed the door of our now-empty house and stepped into the unknown. I wore my son’s baseball hat along with his backpack and headed to the airport. Between my husband and me, we only had one middle-size duffel bag.  

Arrived 

The flight was long, but fine. We had to stop in Atlanta. From there our next stop was Tel Aviv. We arrived very late in the evening and took the shuttle that was going to Jerusalem. The shuttle was full, and we had to make a number of stops.

During our long ride to our hotel, the driver told us in broken English that the center of Jerusalem was under construction. Meaning, he could not take us directly to the hotel. In a few words that we were able to understand and that he loudly repeated to us . . . it was impossible for the shuttle to take us to our hotel. 

So the shuttle dropped us and a few other people in the city without all of us knowing where to go or where we were. It was almost midnight and very dark. All of us stood there for a while, speaking with one another and trying to grasp the situation. None of us knew what to do next, except just start walking. Somewhere.

There was a young woman in her early twenties from Los Angeles who came as a part of a Christian youth group to study in Israel. She was scared, confused, and lost. The person who was supposed to meet her did not show up in Tel Aviv, and now he was not answering his phone.

Fortunately, she knew the address of her dormitory. My husband and I felt compelled to help her find her dormitory first and then go to our hotel. That way, in the worst case, she could spend a night with us in the hotel. We could not bear to let her be on her own.

It took the three of us about two hours of wandering in our search for her place. Thank G-d we had only one quite small and so comfortably rolling luggage. She had a few large bags. No wheels.

Though it was after midnight, the streets were full of people, very vibrant and busy. Lots and lots of youth. Including some children (teens). In groups. Alone. Without parents. Eating. Talking. Laughing.

So we kept looking for people who knew English and asking them to help us with the directions. How many times did we ask? I even do not remember. However, we were able to finally find her place, in a very old building in a quiet street. It was so dark that I don’t think that during the day I would be able to recognize it. We helped her to get in, with luggage and all. No elevator. My poor husband.

After that we were free to start to search for our hotel.

Once again, we were stopping and asking for directions multiple times, and we noticed that for some reasons no one knew the name of our hotel. So we used the name of the street, and we finally found our hotel. It was almost 3:00 a.m.

And yes, indeed, the streets were a mess, and our hotel was also under construction. That explained why I was able to book a hotel room in the middle of August without any challenges for an excellent price. The hotel had just been renovated and was not fully open for business yet. I found it very interesting that at the midst of our crumbling life, the city and hotel ended up being under construction too.

Our Hotel

The did not take that long. When we were asked for how long we were planning on staying, my answer was “Not sure.” They were fine with my response. Everything was pleasant and calm. We were reminded not to miss our breakfast time just as we were walking away.

The positive side of staying in this hotel, regardless of construction work that was still going on, was that everything was brand new: rooms, new pillows, towels, etc. Everything!

The room looked modern and smelled fresh and clean. The bed was incredibly soft and felt wonderful. The pillows were better than those in my home.:) Soft and puffy. Just as white clouds.

After the long day, I crashed in bed, and it felt like heaven. I slept through the night (whatever was left of it) without any dreams, visions, or communication with my son. When I woke up, it was about 6:00 a.m. Must be change of time. I could not sleep any longer.

I opened a window, and the sound of a yet sleeping city entered the room. Right then, I knew I had to go to the Kotel or the Western Wall. But before that, we went to our breakfast.

The breakfast area looked very cozy and warm and inviting. Soon we learned that they baked their own bread. The chef was a Jewish immigrant woman from Yemen.

Her food was so deliciously made that I had to meet her. Her warm and open personality made our conversation joyful and informative. She shared with us that the bread was made based on one of her old family recipes. It was absolutely delicious and comforting. Though the food at the hotel was simple, it was very fresh and exquisite. Different menu every day. 

The bread became our staple food during our journey, which is not something that I usually eat. Free gluten and all. I had no issues with it there.

 

 The Western Wall (Kotel) 

The Western Wall is hidden in the southeast corner of the old city. It was about a forty-five-minute walk from the hotel to the Kotel. Another huge benefit of staying in that hotel. Location! Location! Location! Now we were in the center of everything.

For the next five days (that’s how long we ended up staying), we went to the Western Wall every morning and stayed there for the majority of the day. That became the focus of our days in Jerusalem.

I am not sure what I was expecting when I first approached the Wall. I knew that the Kotel was the most significant piece/place in Jewish history and was considered a holy place. 

However, I did not know what I was expecting for me. What I was hoping to feel or hear. So I did not. No expectation whatsoever. None. I decided to just be in the moment and see what it will bring to me.

I entered the women’s section and approached the Wall. I was surrounded by women and girls of all ages crying, praying, and writing notes and putting them in the cracks between the stones. I did not write anything. I just stood there quietly and then silently said something like this: “Here I am, you asked me to come. Here I am.”

The tears were rolling down my face. Silence. I touched the Wall with my hand and silently said something like this:

“Here I am,” I said, “you asked me to come. You took my son away. You ripped my heart away. So here I am. Tell me, why did you ask me to come? Tell me, why did you take my son? Tell me what you want from me. I am here, tell me.”

Besides the weeping of the women, I did not hear anything else. Yet I stood there and stood there and stood there trying to listen to the energy around me. Nothing, as if I just was talking to the wall (cliché). 

I could hear the tears falling from the woman next to me. I could hear a very quiet mumbling noise from the woman behind me. I could hear the prayers from men from the men’s section. I could hear the noises of the life outside of me, but I heard absolutely nothing inside of me.

For the next week, day after day my husband and I went to the Western Wall spending hours there. Yet still, I felt absolutely nothing. I asked, questioned, talked, yet there was only silence. Emptiness. Void.

I cried, cried, and cried. I wept, wept, and wept. There was no vision, voice, or anything to answer to me, guide me, or nurture me. Yet I came back day after day after day. I was waiting for something. At least to hear from my son . . . If there was no one who would talk to me . . . was there anyone who listened?

At Home

One day after coming back from our now-regular visit to the Kotel, I took a nap around four or five o’clock. I was bone tired. It was hot that day and another day of silence. After taking a shower, I just crashed. 

During my nap, I suddenly felt like I could not breathe. My chest tightened up. Thinking it would pass, I did not wake up my husband. He too was drained by the heat of the day and our long walks.

Then the symptoms got worse. I felt like I was about to pass out. Hardly breathing, I woke my husband and told him to call the ambulance.

Because of the construction, the ambulance had a hard time reaching the hotel. By the time they reached me, I was almost unconscious. The next thing I remember is being placed inside the ambulance with a mask over my face.

I felt someone was holding my hand. I could not open my eyes, but I knew it was my son.

“Mom,” he said, “you will be fine.”

The presence of my son was so strong, physical, and real that if I had not known he had shifted, I would have been sure it was him sitting next to me. But it still was him!

He touched my hair; he placed one hand on my hand and another on my chest. And he said, “Remember I am your healer? Don’t worry, I am here.”

When I used to have headaches, I always asked him to place his hands on my head. Usually within a few minutes the pain was gone. That is where I started to call him “my healer.”

I felt the sensation of his energy on my chest, and with that, I started to feel like I could breathe again. When they brought me to the hospital and began to run some tests, I was already fine.

I don’t know what had happened. I thought it was an asthma attack triggered by the construction outside and in the hotel or something else. Whatever it was, it was gone.

Still I was kept under observation for a good several hours. When I finally was let go and we finished with the paperwork, I asked them, “How could I get back to the hotel?”

“Walk,” they said. “Walk.”

Then they explained to us that because of the construction, no taxi or no other car can get us. At least it was not very far.

It was late evening, and my husband and I began to walk back; I was still in my pajamas and slippers. There were no cars, and we were walking right in the middle of the street that was taking us down the hills. It was an easy walk.

Then a thought hit me, so I turned to my husband and said, “Look, we are walking in our pajamas in the middle of the Jerusalem . . . in the middle of the city . . . look where we are . . .”

We looked at each other and were both amazed at how completely comfortable and safe we felt as if we were in our own backyard. There was no feeling of “lost” or “foreign” or not “belong.” Or being alone and far away from home. It was a natural blend of energies. So natural that it was difficult to notice and become aware of it.

You know, it was similar to the feeling of a healthy body. When we are healthy, we do not feel our body. We are not aware of our liver or heart or lungs. They are just doing their job without us noticing them.

We only become fully present and aware when we are in pain. When they are not well. Be that a finger or an ear. Does not matter. A healthy body is not asking for our attention. Same was here. No feelings of awareness. Just comfort.

Then we saw a few people here and there. Then a group that was singing. Still feeling of comfort did not leave me.

Maybe that’s how it feels to be at home: to walk in the middle of the city in slippers and flip-flops and with messy hair and still feel just fine and totally in peace and comfortable with everything.

Whatever home is, I will never forget that walk with my husband in Jerusalem. When we returned to the hotel, I knew it was time to go to the next place. It was time to move on.