One week later, we were in the middle of another teenage drama. Just another day in the exciting life of a regular fifteen-year-old girl in Israel.īut life is not always exactly normal for teenagers around here… “Must be all of that running for the bus,” I hypothesized. And not only had she completed the run, but she had been one of the top five fastest girls in the class. The next day she came home from her gym test… victorious! Somehow, she hadn’t died with embarrassment when introducing herself to the gym teacher for the first time that year.

And over the course of an afternoon and much conversation (including a decisive talk with her older sister), Noa decided that she was just going to have to suck it up and complete the run. We laughed and listened, coaxed, and cajoled. The second reason: The test was a mile run, which despite her hiking skills and previous participation in a running group, she felt was beyond her capabilities. The teacher didn’t even know who she was. Why? Two reasons: The first (completely incomprehensible to her parents) reason was that she had been skipping gym class all year long (you know, the war and stuff) and it would be downright embarrassing to show up at this point in the year. (A gym test?!) And she absolutely could not go. The very next week, Noa came to me with a problem: She had a test the following day in gym class. There’s always a lot to discuss with that one. I complimented her on her speed and dexterity, and we moved on to the next topic of conversation. She got there just as the last person was getting onto the bus, “ Besiyata Dshmaya! How is that even possible?” she finished off, “The bus was supposed to have been long gone.” Noa grabbed her Naot sandals into her hands and took off sprinting in her socks all the way to Gesher HaMaytarim, bag flopping behind her. And told her that she’d better “ Run, run, run!!” Eventually, one person showed her that it was still sitting right there just across the street. We listened as Noa described the scene – she ran across the Central Bus Station, looking for the right bus. “You should have seen me,” Noa relayed enthusiastically, “I got off the bus after my interview and there was no chance I was going to make it to the next one. If she missed that bus, she would have to take a bus to the stop on the highway below our yishuv and walk up – scary!!! And she had three minutes left to her ride. She boarded the bus to the Central Station, but when she checked the transport app during the last few minutes of the ride, she saw that the last bus going into our Yishuv was leaving in just one minute. This is even more true during wartime.Īfter an extremely harrowing trip to the hospital, Noa finally made it there, had her interview, and set out to return home. Busses seem to come and go at random, and one is never sure whether they will arrive on schedule. Transportation to and from our small town in Gush Etzion to the big city can be unpredictable at the best of times. That morning, my daughter, Noa, had gone off on a mission to become a volunteer at Sha’arei Tzedek Hospital.

“It was a day of nisim veniflaot.” Miracles and wonders. “You wouldn’t believe my day,” my fifteen-year-old daughter announced as she flopped herself into a chair at the kitchen table.

Set timer for 1 minute bomb