Higher Than Me

People say that the anticipation of a stressful event is the hardest part of all. The calm before the storm, if you like. This is certainly one of the strangest experiences I have ever had.

Last Tuesday and Wednesday, within the space of just a few hours, Israel assassinated two high profile terrorist leaders. Hezbollah commander Fuad Shukr – assassinated in Beruit last Tuesday – was responsible for the rocket that exploded in a playing field in the Israeli Druze town of Majdal Shams on 27th July, killing 12 children and injuring many more. Ismail Haniyeh – the political leader of Hamas – was responsible for numerous acts of terror over several decades. He was assassinated in Tehran as he attended the new Iranian president’s inauguration.

Both Iran and Hezbollah have vowed that Israel will suffer in return. Now, as the world scrambles – unsuccessfully – to restore calm to the region, Israel is bracing for an imminent attack.

Many people around the country are feeling afraid. And that makes perfect sense. We are facing a threat – maybe even an existential one – of a magnitude that none of us can comprehend.

I’m not quite sure why I don’t feel scared. Is it the peace of God? Am I numbing out my feelings? Or maybe it’s just that these waters are so unchartered that I have no reference points.

We all know that something big is coming. From Iran. From Hezbollah. From other enemy states. Whether they will act together or separately we don’t know. Whether it will be by land or by air – or both – we’re not sure. Whether it will be a limited and isolated strike or whether it will be far-reaching, ushering in days, weeks, months of war. Whether we will need to shelter in place or to flee. Whether the best way to prepare is to stockpile food, water, flashlights and toilet roll in order to survive a long period of time at home with no electricity, phone lines or running water… or whether the best way to prepare is to pack a bag of clothes and important documents to be ready to run out the door at a moment’s notice.

My brain is struggling to comprehend all of these unknowns.

I have a drawer full of emergency provisions – bottles of water, tins of sweetcorn, tuna and baked beans, several cartons of long-life milk and packets of crackers and biscuits. But it seems woefully inadequate for whatever it is that lies ahead. Really, I don’t think that any amount of crackers and peanut butter would allow me to breathe a sigh of relief, secure in the knowledge that I am ready to face whatever it is Iran decides to launch at us.

The truth is that we can do the best we can, but really there’s no way to prepare – either physically or emotionally – for such a big unknown.

All we can do is to stay close to each other, to keep living, keep moving and keep doing normal things the best we can as we wait. And to remember that underneath are the everlasting arms.