As the sirens wail again, Family First writers reflect
The past few weeks have been a waiting game, our fingers on the pulse of the news, every sound an imagined alert, and every possible outcome considered. Will Iran attack is the loudest question in the park circle, today or tomorrow is the analyst’s biggest debate, and the what ifs are blaring through all our minds.
Every ambulance that drives past my apartment makes me jump, every noise is questioned as a siren, and every buzz of a text message sends panic through my body. Is that an alert from the Homefront Command? A friend told me that she wished Iran would just attack already, so we could at least know what will be. Long-term planning has been put on hold: I can’t book a trip for a week’s time because who knows what will be then. We might be under lockdown. It might all be over. Even shopping is different.
This mindset of waiting was filling me with anxiety; my thoughts ran wild, imagining all the worst possible scenarios. As I began to reprimand myself and remind myself to tap into the reservoirs of emunah and bitachon I hold inside, I stopped myself.
I need this all-consuming mindset. But instead of an unnerving anticipation of an Iranian war, I should be consumed with thoughts of Mashiach’s arrival. Instead of anxiety, I should be filled with anticipation.
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