I greet you again brothers and sisters. Blessings to you and may the Lord be blessed and receive all the glory.
I don’t want to let this day pass without telling you what I have been reflecting upon as I walked through today − another Holocaust Memorial Day or yom h’shoar.
With World War 2 fading into the past, so are its people, both victims and heroes. This is the way of time, isn’t it? More aging Holocaust survivors end their life’s walk on this earth daily, although we have still a surprising number well into their 90s. The focus of attention turned this year more and more to those who were children at the time, the VERY innocent.
I have had the privilege of hearing from those who were ripped from their Mother’s arms and still survived. I heard many say, “I had never been away from my family before and never out of sight of my Mother, and they took me and I was alone and so scared.”
Okay. Yes. I’m a mother and a Grandmother so perhaps that makes me more sentimental toward children. We all have that God-borne instinct to protect the little ones that can’t protect themselves. The stories are as varied as the names and faces, and so are the results.
This morning I listened to the testimony of a now elderly child-survivor who was hidden away. Even as I write this, my heart EMBRACES our dear, dear Dutch friends whose families hid Jews during the war. We KNOW about Corrie tenBoom and others, but there are so many dear believers who were YESHUA in the midst of such hatred. Only Yeshua knows about their love and heroism.
Most of the displaced children came to (then) Palestine on a youth aliyah. Now youth aliyah is an amazing story in itself and totally unique. Instead of orphanages, Kibbutzim rose up composed of mostly children with perhaps a nurse, a doctor, and a teacher. The older children cared for the younger. It would make a fascinating study on-line if you are interested.
Well, the man I listened to this morning, a young child then and now an old man, described himself as resilient and a success story. I hadn’t thought of the word resilient in connection with the survivors. For me, that word contains so much life and I think of the broken skeleton survivors. Resilient? Hmm!
He was raised in a children’s kibbutz and later pioneered pediatric neurology both here in Israel and worldwide. He is blessed with both successful children and grandchildren. As he reflected about his past, he spoke of those who were not so resilient. There were those who committed suicide or ended up mentally unstable. He said that he speaks to strengthen others.
The siren wailed for two minutes at 10 am. All came to attention, stepping out of their cars and buses. But the wind was speaking and so were the birds as I stood outside the doctor’s office where I work, praying for the children of Israel today. Open their eyes TODAY Lord. Isn’t the time now?
I also have childhood memories’ concerning the shoar. I was born right after the war ended, but being in NYC the ships began arriving. Our family would go to the shipyards and wait and watch. I don’t know why, but two memories stand out above all others.
I was very small and my Father went over to check the list that was posted on a wall. The names of those arriving on the immigrant ships. I saw huddled masses, so sad and bedraggled, sitting with bundles. I was scared and pulled near to my Mother.
Another time, my mother pulled me close to her as a stranger came up to me and ran her fingers through my dark curly hair and said, “I once had a little girl like you. Yes, I once had a little girl like you…” A shiver ran down my spine. I felt such a deep and frightening emotions. I was so small, but I still remember holding on to my Mother’s knee.
It’s days like this when we remember that Life and death walk so close to each other. But I am startled back to reality as I remember that I reflect on the issues of life and death from a perspective of LIFE for YESHUA LIVES IN ME. My brothers and sisters after the flesh simply open up the grave and peer in and sigh and wonder.
On the way home I prayed for the harvest and that The Lord of the harvest would raise up His workers. And I thought, Huh…THIS harvest is different. And so the harvesters need different tools and different methods, as every farmer knows, no two crops are harvested alike. What will it take? I constantly ask Him to show me. I don’t know yet, but I’ll keep asking.
And now I run off to some errands and again send my love.
Your sister in Jerusalem,
J
Larry Who 