Hashem is my real safe room

MY

new favorite place is the dank miklat, lit by a single flickering bulb.

Sirens wail, and booms are close, then far, then close again. But inside the miklat, there is the warmth of neighbors. Those whose children are grown sit on old folding chairs murmuring Tehillim. Those whose children are young sit snuggled with toddlers, reading books, distributing snacks.

“Hashem will bang down the rockets!” the children cheer.

To them, this is a game, and we’ve done our best to create a fun environment in our little miklat.

“I want another siren,” my two-year-old shouts each time we leave the miklat. To her, it’s all one big party. What could be better than visiting with neighbors in your pajamas, or eating ice cream at 7 a.m.?

But nighttime is different. As per our rav, we don’t go to the miklat at night. Our responsibility as parents is to guard our children’s physical safety, of course — but their emotional safety, too. Waking young toddlers multiple times a night would not be productive.

So each time the siren pierces the silent night, my husband and I are out of bed, huddling in the safest corner of our little apartment.

The walls are just walls, I remind myself, Hashem is my real safe room, and whatever He wills will be.

Until last night.