The October 7 massacre hit us with a horrifying shock, perhaps marking the single most traumatic day in the Land of Israel. The night before October 7, several women around me dreamt disturbing nightmares, while I felt sick like I’ve never felt before with terrible contractions coming down my spine and back. This was not a war like we’ve ever experienced before.
That Shabbat, we woke up to celebrate ‘Simchat Torah’, the joy of the Torah, as we had just entered a new Jewish year. Too many sirens signaled that something was terribly wrong. We still went to the congregation, not having the faintest clue what was going on, but also as the Shabbat service is how our family prioritizes faith in our busy week. This Simchat Torah was extra special: we still had no clue and danced and sang louder with each siren. Our intentions were so strong, and we felt a strong sense of light and courage in this tangible, heavy darkness. We still had no clue, until my husband got called up to the army to serve immediately, along with some 360000 reservists. I won’t forget how we watched him and his colleague drive off that day after a hug.
The October 7 massacre set off a huge wave of emotions and events that just wouldn’t stop and this war is still ongoing, nearly a year later. I write down these horrors to try to give it a place, but also to cry out to the world who seems to have forgotten this massacre and these deep scars done to the People of Israel so painfully soon. I can’t help but wonder: Do they know? Did they hear?
Some 1200 people were brutally murdered. People were raped (some gang raped), mutilated and burned alive. Men were also mutilated and sexually assaulted. Young girls raped in their beds, children’s hands were tied behind their backs before they were shot, tortured and burned alive in front of their parents (and vice versa), a baby burnt in an oven, pets shot, a pregnant mother ripped open after which her baby (still connected to the umbilical cord) was stabbed, a friend of a friend lured from the community shelter by throwing in grenades to smoke-out those hiding (after which he was taken captive while his wife was pregnant)… Corpses were raped and also kidnapped to Gaza. We know someone who survived the Nova Music festival, but over 30 of his friends were murdered… The testimonies are too evil for words, and I would read them after the kids would fall asleep, to honor these victims, and to know what had happened to my people and to understand what our soldiers had witnessed when they fought for days to free our towns and carried out truck loads full of innocent bodies. The destruction was so immense, that people were thought to be missing, until their DNA was analyzed at the scene of their burnt home or local shelter (including a disabled teenager in her wheelchair); while after all of that, 251 survivors (Israelis and foreigners) had been taken captive to the dark, humid Hamas-tunnels: fathers, mothers, daughters, sons. Even elderly and holocaust survivors (the oldest victim was 94-years old), chronically ill, teens, children, a toddler named Ariel and his baby brother Kfir. The brother of a child at school is still held captive after he kept rescuing bodies so terrorists wouldn’t feast on them. We utter their names in our hopes and prayers. Friends in the Gaza Envelope had locked themselves in their homes for 48 hours, because terrorists passed their hometown and infiltrated the next village until the IDF freed them. “It could have been me or my loved one”, is a thought that echoed in perhaps all of us. This vicious enemy doesn’t discern or show any mercy to anyone at all, and even filmed everything proudly as their sick trophy for the world to see (while later on denying and distorting these facts…). Come Yeshua!
October 7 shook us on a very deep level, and left wounds of trust. I’m definitely not the only woman horrified by the barbaric terroristic acts performed on women. But, also horrified by the deliberate silence by the United Nations who advocates its fight for women’s rights (except those of Jewish women). A friend and I addressed UN on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women. We spoke up, they knew – yet kept silent. They chose not to raise their voices against Hamas’ raping, genital mutilations and murders against Jewish women and young girls. The UN chief called the October 7-massacre a ‘reaction’. When would defenders of women’s rights justify violence against women as ‘a reaction’? That was yet another slap in the face we dealt with here: not only trying to absorb the massacre and the captivity – which I had to absorb all by myself – but also struggling with the deafening silence of the majority of the world – and with it – their siding with the enemy.
If that wasn’t more than enough, the reservist-families now suddenly carried the weight of their family for ‘who-knows-how-long’, without their partner. Many reservists are parents, and so for mothers with children, we now had to be a mother and a father, and just be it all: be strong and gentle, have quality time and set boundaries, explain why the kids couldn’t go to school (at the beginning for security reasons). To offer a listening ear, all the while still being shocked ourselves.
Where do you collect the strength to carry such a task that you never signed up for as a woman and a mother? As a human being? I think it’s a combination between ‘just do it!’ and a lot of G-d’s grace. In times like these, I didn’t have the time, nor the luxury, to question too much ‘if’ I could manage, because I just didn’t have a choice. I think times like these can really make or break us. Perhaps we realize our strength, because we’re cornered. I think it was very important for me to ‘allow myself’ to cry, and to cry out to G-d: for the massacre and the uncertainties and just for everything. To bring it to the throne of my Heavenly Father, day after day, after the kids fell asleep, as a way to absorb the horrors that were done to our people and a way to not carry all on my own shoulders, but to share it with the King.
Most if not all days of this reservist-duty were covered by (tiredness and) mental blur, of asking again and again what day it was. We wanted to be ready at any given time (laundry, groceries, tidy home) just in case Abba came home for a long-awaited visit of 24-48 hours (minus travels), so we could make the most of it and spend as much time as possible with the one who had taken our hearts with him to the lion’s den. This caused a positive mind-shift to focus on ‘what truly matters’: faith, hope and love, quality time, hikes, morning coffee and backgammon: life to its fullest, while still wondering ‘could this be the last hug?’ Our family was apart for some 109 days and most of the time were without contact, turning this sudden emergency reserve duty into 4,5 months. Half-a-school-year. But as he once couldn’t come home as planned, I would only allow my heart to rejoice each time when he was already on his way back home, to guard my heart from disappointment.
I remember a paralyzing kind of fear at times: the ringtone of my cellphone, or someone ringing the doorbell would make me jump up or freeze*. It could either be a sign of life, or mean something terrible had happened. There were so many fallen soldiers. As the danger level at the frontlines heightened, so did the blurry cloud. It forced me to look to Him for hope and cry out: “Father, I’m not sure how I can serve you if you’d take him away from us. We believe You can use him for Your Kingdom. We trust in You, for your protection.” He did protect him, and I’m forever grateful!
* For a few months, a close friend was so thoughtful to write me a message before calling me.
I felt this uncertain time was some kind of cross roads. In the sight of such a savage enemy, I had the choice to be broken (and in a way we were!), and so, two focus-points entered my heart, which were: strength and revenge.
Strength
Being strong isn’t something I’m born with, perse. For me, it’s a mental choice to choose strength, time after time. To internalize we’re “afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9) And so, strength can perhaps be compared to me not fighting the waves when I’m drowning at sea: “When my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I” (Psalm 61:2); but rather to find a way to get on top of the waves and make the best of it, no matter my circumstances. Don’t get me wrong: some days felt so heavy and my mind got so blurry (as we were out of touch for many weeks) that just making it through well with the kids and having pizza and a movie together, was great. Being strong, at times meant knowing I’m heartbroken, and in need to be carried by my Heavenly Father (Deuteronomy 1:31). And in my cry to Him, I get the strength to persevere and step out each day again. And again. I also stayed strong and positive, because it meant my hubby was strengthened and even safer (because he didn’t have to worry about us). (Remember, any battle isn’t just about the person at battle, but it includes the support system. We don’t live isolated, but we’re part of an eco-system. In sickness and other hardships, too, reaching out to the surrounding loved ones is vital.)
Choosing strength as a mental choice, also meant taking action. Through Netivyah, I had the great privilege of serving the very many IDF-units who knocked on our door, by ordering the high-quality military equipment they needed. This work gave me a sense of purpose that I was actually making a difference in this justified war. The mutual appreciation between a soldier who risks his life for people he’ll never even meet, and civilians (especially as a reservist-wife), is tremendous. Israel is at war with a joint enemy who hits us both physically and psychologically. We’re all in the same boat and need one another: some battle physically and others keep the home front or volunteer to cook homey meals or donate goods. Israel became one in the face of this enemy in a way I’ve only ever experienced in Israel: we’re a tribe of brothers and sisters.
Both last and this reserve duty, I’m mostly blessed by meals from two special ladies from our community, as well as from a group of complete strangers who cook meals for reservist-families. It’s a tremendous gift that frees me not to have to think or care for two to three meals a week. To be able to be more emotionally available at home. These volunteers know the importance of a strong home and a strong mom in the face of an enemy. I have no words to express my gratitude for this love! I also experienced support from the daily prayer group of our community. It’s a true privilege and so powerful to pray and read Psalms together, being reminded that: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1) I also am so grateful for my visits with my special friend who keeps reminding me to bring everything to the Throne – and then let it go.
Revenge
I felt this enemy and this war on our existence called for my own sweet revenge on the enemy. The enemy wanted death? I’ll choose life and do all I can to make my kids flourish extra. To see their individual needs and make it happen. The one that needed a developmental spurt, got extra puzzles and play time and extra swimming lessons; while good communication with the school meant we worked together to make this all happen; while the siblings helped out with fun exercise, and by practicing letters and numbers. The child who felt unmotivated, got an extra hug and some quality time and actually found motivation along the way. The third needed a lot of friends, and so we had sleepovers and playdates, no matter the circumstances. I aimed to invest in our community (behind the scenes), too. Finding weaknesses and finding ways to improve those with my own talents, one step at a time. Besides, keeping busy was good for my mind.
This is a clearly a war of darkness against light: “for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12) And so, we also focused by finishing our family dinners with a Bible story and prayer before cleaning up, and a Bible chapter with the bigger kid. My ‘sweet revenge’ and positive focus gave me strength, like a small flame that becomes a fire, because light can grow where we allow it to.
The media is very biased and antisemitism took a very steep rise since October 7, leaving us feeling left alone by the world, once again. It made me see, that there is no more place for us, besides Israel. (that realization helped us focus on beautifying our home with some paint and a lot of plants)
The spiritual battle of darkness against light is not only confined to the Land of Israel, but also “against the Lord and against his Anointed” (Psalm 2:1-2), and forces people to make a choice. We see a deep and stronger growing love from friends around the world towards Israel as they come especially to harvest our farms, knowing He “will bless those who bless you” (Genesis 12:3). Please know your presence and love deeply encourages us beyond words, especially now! It’s life-giving. We’re called to “run with endurance the race that is set before us” (Hebrews 12:1), and the practical love, of helping out on our land, is like a friend holding out a water bottle during a marathon, so we can continue this race and not give up.
This was a year of shifting balance and the balance game remained at least a month after the reserve duty ended: to get used to not being the only parent anymore (& work together again), and getting used to that “he’s really staying home this time.” Besides personal balance, this war also emphasizes places for us to grow. It shows there are times when the earth shakes beneath my feet, where I might be at gunpoint, making it up to me how I’ll deal with it. And, whether I function from my own strength or if I “lift up my eyes” (Psalm 121:1-2). I wouldn’t know how I’d be without His hope: in the promised new heaven and a new earth, in His justice in this broken world, and… to know that, even in the worst case, I am confident that my loved one will awake to “everlasting life” (Daniel 12:2)
While I write at the beginning of October 2024, my husband serves for an additional month, but this time in the stormy North where rockets, mortars, missiles and UAV’s are fired at us from multiple countries (Yemenite Houthi’s, Lebanon, Iraq, Gaza, Syria and Iran), in a way no country would ever allow (and yet, the nations call on us to show restraint…). Hezbollah also planned to attack us with an ‘October 7th’ in the North. They didn’t manage to coordinate their attack with Hamas, and so Hezbollah uses air attacks since October 8th – only to show us that this one and the same spirit and enemy.
On October 7, my hubby highly encouraged me to continue our schedule and rhythm, for our health and stability. Structure and rhythm have truly benefitted our bodies, minds and souls, in this sea of change, uncertainty and danger. Just now we had a wonderful few days together as a family: to breathe together and heal infected muscles. And yet, here I am again, picking up where we left off a few days ago with life – taking a deep breath, working my day job and bringing order at home. Focusing to calm our inner storm after hugging Abba goodbye this morning.
May we love and appreciate our loved ones, and grow, build and stand strongly, no matter what.
And in all this I utter the words ‘Come Yeshua!’
Lydia Bachana
P.s.
Please continue to join us in prayer for the State of Israel and our leaders, the IDF, the 101 hostages in unhuman conditions, the situation in the North that’s unlivable due to tremendous air attacks. Lift up the soldiers & reservists and their families who continue to carry this weight for the battle for our existence at so many fronts at once.