Twas Brillig

When we last left our heroine (that would be me—well, Mini-me, anyway) she was on her way to Jerusalem from London.

We flew into Tel Aviv in late December and drove from there down the King’s Highway to Jerusalem, and up to our fortress (the BYU Jerusalem Center) on the hill.  I remember the ride well—my eyes wide, trying to soak up this incredible new world of ancient-ness all around me.  I couldn’t wait to bust out of that car and go exploring.
War loomed on the horizon.  We were still in denial about it, though.   We couldn’t believe that anyone would be crazy enough to go to war with the US.  We had a class to prepare us, teaching us what each siren meant, teaching us how to put on a gas mask, teaching us basic tips and strategies to staying safe in chemical missile warfare.  I learned it all, and I tucked it away into a little corner in my brain, hoping to never actually need to know all those things.

On New Years Eve, the youth (all of us between the ages of 12 and 18) in our branch of the church there (which met in our fortress) got together for a dance/activity/party to ring in the New Year.  J and I joined in, eager to make friends in this strange new world.  And make friends we did.  These were children of some of the most amazing people I’d ever heard of.  Mostly they were faculty brats like us—children of brilliant historians and linguists and theologists.  But some were not affiliated with BYU at all—just members of our church who happened to be living in Israel at the time.  Every one had a fascinating story.  Every one had already beheld more horror than they could share with me at that time.  I was yet to see it myself.  But I would soon make up for lost time.

I loved these kids.  I bonded with them.  I even “fell in love” with one young man.  (Don’t worry—he and I ran into each other six years later, when I was 18,  and created a Soap Opera of Epic Proportions.  Remind me to tell that story sometime…)

Within a month, they were all gone.  They’d all run back to their homes in America or fled to nearby peaceful countries.  I’ll never forget the day that Delta Airlines announced that this would be their last flight out of Israel, and those who chose not to be on it would be stranded indefinitely in this war zone.

We weren’t on that plane.  And J and I were left all alone.  Bombs were flying, threats were issued, wars were waging, and we were stuck in the middle of it all.**  But we stayed.  Everyone else left.

I had to find something to fill the time, the wait, the anxiety, and the emptiness.

I found so, so much.

———————-

**I’m purposefully leaving out the details of the war and what our lives were like during this time, because I’ve said it all before.  But for those of you who are new around here and would like to hear it, you’ll find those posts here and here.