Dear God…

ife is crazy. It is scary. It is unpredictable. It is heartbreaking.

Life is also beautiful. And joyful. And miraculous.

Right now, in real time, it is all those things. Truthfully, it is always all those things, but right now, even more so.

By the time this column comes out, will there be peace? Will planes be flying to and from Israel? We can pray and hope, but only time will tell. What I find amazing about the current situation is that any scenario you can possibly imagine — good, bad, funny, horrific — is happening to someone, somewhere. The people who cannot fly to a wedding. The people who might not be able to fly home to have a baby. The people who left their children with relatives to go on a short “vacation.”

And then there are the gut-wrenching stories. Sickness and funerals. Parents being called back into the army. Missiles flying…. This is a humor column. How does anyone make any of this funny? And if I were to try to make this funny, what would the repercussions be? Hate mail?

Well, I am willing to take that chance, and with the permission of my beautiful children, I will share the following with you.

Last Thursday, the news was everywhere that Israel had preemptively attacked Iran. I figured that my kids in Israel were, hopefully, sleeping, so I waited until 11:30 p.m. to call Son #2, as that is the time that he usually wakes up to start his day. (That’s 6:30 a.m. Israel time. I still count on my fingers to figure out the time difference. I shouldn’t be sharing that fact, but whatever.)

I called him and realized that I had woken him up. I forgot that he sleeps an extra 30 minutes on Friday mornings. He called me back a few minutes later, and I asked him how he was doing. Here is where it gets tricky — he had no idea what I was talking about. Please don’t judge.

A few hours later, he called to tell me that he was walking home from synagogue with someone who asked, “Hey, why don’t our kids have school today?”

Son #2 looked at him, and with as much authority as he could muster, he replied, “My parents just told me that Israel and Iran are at war.”

God, watch over all of us. Is it a good thing or a bad thing that my kids are clueless? I am going to vote that it is a good thing. Danish, who is the older of the two Israeli pastries, thinks that the sound of the siren means that an ambulance is coming. Unfortunately, there are children who are suffering from total PTSD from the constant running back and forth to the bomb shelters. And not just children. My thoughts and prayers are with all of them. And, honestly, I really don’t think any of this is funny.

My children are fortunate that their safe room is the room that the girls sleep in.

To be honest with you, my editor, who is also my friend, asked me to write a piece about what it is like to have children and grandchildren living in Israel during this unprecedented and frightening time. I was very honest with her.

My experience is not typical. Of course I am worried and scared, but it is more on a global scale, not child- or grandchild-specific. I have to follow their lead. My children (and millions of others) truly believe that God runs the world. That if we believe in Him and pray to Him, all will be well.

That and a topnotch army.

I think about last summer, when the threat of Iran was looming large around Tisha b’Av time, and our flights were canceled. Just when you think a situation cannot get worse, it does. An Israeli news group that I follow posted that the only way people will be able to get into Israel is if they go to Iran and hop on a missile.

Gallows humor gets you through anything.

Dear God: Please keep all of us healthy and safe. Please bring peace to Israel and the world. Please protect all of us.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is really looking forward to Camp Babka, when all she will have to think about is keeping Strudel happy.