Brave Little Girl January 19, 2012

Shalom from Israel! It has been so long since I posted, and life has changed.

little Nava is now 9 months old, a bright, blue-eyed smiling baby.  Our past four months have been full and busy.  Yona moved to part time at her daycare, I resumed being a student by enrolling in a course at U of T, there were trips to the zoo, science center, the children’s storefront, soccer, gymnastics, baby music classes and swimming galore.  there was the chilling of the air, the re-patriation of fall and then winter jackets. there was the re-gathering of beautiful mamas at Sasha’s every week for a collective exhale and embrace.  falling leaves, dwindling numbers of kids at dufferin grove park.  there were essays, course readings, final papers.

and there was planning.  lots and lots of planning as we prepared to move to Israel for a few months so I could complete a practicum for my public health degree at the new Faculty of Medicine of Bar Ilan University in Safed before returning back to work at the end of my maternity leave.   Hundreds of emails, internet searches, ads posted,and friends/acquaintences consultations later, I identified a practicum, we found a place to live in the Upper Galilee, we rented out our house in Toronto, packed everything up, got on a plane, rented a car, and now here we are.

Our first ten days here were spent adjusting and relaxing with family in Rehovot, Tel Aviv, Efrat and Jerusalem.  We slept in family homes, apartments, and even a caravan on a Yeshiva.   We have eaten very, very well.  Yona and Nava visited their Aunty Robin’s zoo, played on the windy beach, sampled offerings from the Israeli shuk, went for walks, grocery shopped, played.  On Sunday night we made the long drive to the north, arriving at our new home half way up a mountain too late to see the breathtaking view of Lake Kinneret and the  beautiful valley of the Galil below, but in time to inhale the crisp, cool air.

A few days later, I am now a working woman, carving out a work space for my self in a beautiful new expansive building which is still largely under construction, permeated by the smell of fresh paint, curlicues of wood shavings and plaster littering the floors which are then washed, it seems, ten times a day.

After ten days of holidaying, with little routine, late bedtimes and sleep ins, and virtually no other contemporaries to play with, we could tell Yona was needing a little structure and definitely some playmates.  The area we are living in is a quiet, new suburban community and we haven’t really met any young families there yet.  We are quite close to a small town called Rosh Pina and when visiting the matnas (community center) there, we discovered a weekly ballet class is held on Tuesday evenings and we were invited to come try it out.

I had my first meeting with my supervisers that day, and got a lift down the mountain to the matnas.  There I found Yona sitting serenely, in a pink shirt and tights, amongst a sea of similarly dressed Israeli girls, hair in a pony tail.  She couldn’t understand anything the teacher was saying, but was enthusiastically participating, taking visual cues from the other kids, running around delightedly with a huge smile on her face.

It was adorable. She loved it.  We signed her up for weekly classes.  For a few minutes, when the ballet class ended and the room was suddenly filled with little girls and their siblings and parents it felt like we were part of a community of young families.

So then we undertook the next challenge is finding a gan yeladim (literally translated into a garden for children, its the Israel version of preschool) for Yona.  In some parts of this country, we’d have a lot of resources to work with (friends, family who know the area, know people, who could ask on our behalf) but up here, we are on our own.  It seems that getting into a city run daycare is challenging when you aren’t a permanent resident or citizen, and there is one private subsidized daycare in our neighbourhood.  The people who rented our place to us spoke the the Ganenit (woman in charge of the gan), and Yona and Mike visited it yesterday.

We talked it over with Yona, who said she wanted to try it out, but when we arrived this morning, she was teary and overwhelmed.  I whispered into her ear, “let’s give it a try.  it will just be for a little while.  let’s see if you like it.  you might have fun!” We went in together, Yona full of trepidation, into the small room filled with children chattering in Hebrew and lovely teachers who speak only a little bit of English.  The scene was a bit chaotic.  Kids moving in closer, gathering around.  Yona turned to me, eyes full of tears, and said, “Mommy, stay.  Stay with me, Mommy!”.  My heart was full for her.

How overwhelming it must be to enter into the unknown, to not understand the language, to let go of your anchor and allow yourself to face your fears.  Actually, I know exactly how that feels.  I feel the same way here, starting work in a new place, sitting in on meetings, grasping only about 20% of what is being said in rapid fire Hebrew, throngs of medical students I don’t yet know laughing and chattering around me while on break from classes.   I’ve haven’t yet taken the bus because I am having a hard time making sense of the bus route I found online and yesterday I ordered a substandard sandwhich because it was the only thing I understood on the menu at the snack kiosk.

So back to Yona.  I took off her jacket and hat, and she fell into my arms, crying.  Language barrier aside, we could feel loving energy from both the teachers and students who gathered around, concerned for Yona, wanting to alleviate her sadness.  I led her to the crafts table.  One student handed her a paper, the other a tree shape to trace, the other some crayons.  Yona got to work.  After a few moments, I asked her how she was doing and she said she was feeling a little better.  I promised her that Daddy would be back soon to check on her.  And then she did what she does at night when she resigns herself to going to bed.  She turned her face to me, lips puckered to give me a goodbye kiss.

Then: “mommy, I want to push you out the door!” A residual ritual from her beloved home daycare.  She gave me a little push.  The teachers and kids clapped for her.  I went towards the door. Looking back at her, I could see her at the table, lip quivering, eyes teary, but forming the resolve to stick it out.  My eyes filled with tears for her- my brave little soul, facing her fears, terrified and probably lonely.  Her teacher, seeing my face, gave me a reassuring hug as I slipped out the door.  I walked to the car, tears streaming down my face, so touched and inspired by Yona’s courage and strength.

Israel work weeks are 6 days (Sunday to Friday) but many people, including my colleagues here, don’t work on Friday because of the Jewish Sabbath.  Tomorrow is Friday and we plan to go on a little tiyul (outing) to explore our beautiful surroundings.  We are in this together, Mike, Nava and I and Yona- our brave and resilient trouper.

Advertisement