"Thank you for loving her enough to heal her."

40 days. 
In the first conversation I had with my older brother after the terrible rift that opened on Shiva for that Shabbat, we exchanged words of pain and shock. We talked quietly. still shocked. And I asked, doubt him doubt myself, 'What is possible? and how?' And he answered me, that the thing that is most needed now is... Love. 

My brother and I are different in our way of life, he is religious and I am secular. However, in our essence we are bound by the thickness of a supportive home in which we grew up and there is respect and appreciation between us and a lot of the spice of love of a mother and father's home. Of all the things I thought he would say to me, from 'faith', through 'prayer' to 'consolation', perhaps his true choice of the word 'love', a choice that came from the heart, precisely in the days when everyone cried out for revenge, enveloped me and silenced me. 

Love is something I can do. And I've been focusing on her ever since. And you know what happens to something that you give attention to? It grows and strengthens. Yes, I see pain, experience despair and cling to hope and tears have their own decision when to break out these days. But - I see love wherever I turn.

Following the same spirit of volunteering that I wrote about in the previous column, I see in people's eyes the search for it and they are less afraid to express it. Love splits the soil of despair, plows furrows in it and sows. In the future, when the thunder of the war will be silenced and our loved ones will return to us from captivity - we will reap its fruits. Amen.

In this week's episode, in the book 'Daughter Number Four', John makes a difficult choice, in the name of love.
pleasant reading,
Lily 

Chapter 40

"I'm sorry to see you go. I was hoping we'd have more time together. I've gotten used to your presence, despite the stormy nights you ran from here to the Stella Maris Monastery." Uncle Martin escorted him to a taxi that was waiting for him outside. 

After Hila fell asleep he packed his backpack and guitar, leaving his heart behind. It was hard for him to imagine what his life would look like from now on. He loved her. He loved her so much that he had to go, leave, release her into a life he hoped would be full of goodness.

"You know better than anyone that I have to leave. It's the right thing to do, Uncle Martin."
"I know, son. I appreciate you for that. Not everyone is decent enough to do what you do." John looked back at the seaside church, tears threatening to well up and overwhelm him. "She'll be fine, son, she's not alone. You did everything you could do for her. You saved her, you did God's work. You were a messenger, her God's angel."

"I'm not innocent, Uncle Martin." He didn't want compliments. He did not feel good about himself, he also felt that he had abandoned her, although he made sure that she would not be left alone. 

When she fell asleep he called her sister, who was frightened, but immediately calmed her down and asked her to come to church. He didn't expect the conversation to go the way it did. John smiled as he remembered their conversation. How good that Hila has this sister in her life.

"I want to understand. You love her so you're leaving her? If this isn't nonsense as ridiculous as hers, and stupid, if I may add, then I don't know what is."

"You know we can't be together, beautiful. Please, don't make it any harder on me. I can't do the right thing anymore when I'm around her, so I'll do the right thing now. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Yafit shifted uncomfortably, understanding what he meant.
"Life is a fairy," she finally blurted out and he gave a small smile, which turned into a cry of surprise as she pounced on him with another one of her uncompromising hugs. "Thank you, John, thank you for bringing my sister back to me. Thank you for loving her enough to heal her. You want something here in Israel, just say it and it's yours."

"I just want to know she's okay." He lightly squeezed her arm, took his backpack and the guitar and left.
John knew he was a good few hours ahead, but after wandering down Independence Street, eating the last falafel in Israel and laughing with the vendors and sailors, who hung around the port even in the wee hours of the night, he had nothing left to do. He entered through the Palmer Gate and hitched a ride to the boat dock.
The Circassian Windy looked desolate. He assumed that even if someone stayed to sleep at anchor, they were indeed sleeping and did not expect to see anyone before sunrise. And it suited him very well.

He, the boat and the sea - everything he wanted at this moment. Well, not what he wanted, but what he needed. It happened by chance, or not by chance, that Circassian invited him to sail to Cyprus. At first he refused, not wanting to leave Hila alone for a few nights. Now leave her alone all nights. It had to happen. He had to fight himself so that no more of that sweet kiss would happen that he would take with him to the grave. "Goodbye, little darling," he murmured.