CALL YOUR MOTHER!

My little brother started basic training in the Israeli army. The first day, Facebook got a flood of pictures, him and his friends in their new spiffy uniforms. He looks good, but it's funny, when I remember the Chayalim from seminary, he just doesn't fit in. Cuz he's my little brother. How can he be a soldier. Of course I commented on the picture, 'The costume store called, they want their uniform back.'

When he went to Israel, my mother didn't hear from him for awhile. He called when he got there, and that's about it. I would ask my mom, 'So how is he, what's he up to?' And she would say, 'I don't know, my kids don't tell me anything.' I saw him tagged in pictures on Facebook, so I knew he was okay. (There is something horribly wrong with that sentence.)

He was in Israel for two months before he began training. Suddenly, when he got to base he started calling home every week. I don't know if it was the realization that he may be in danger G-d forbid at some point, or nostalgia that prompted him to call. My mother jokes that it is probably worked into their daily schedule, 'O two hundred hours, Call Mother.'

I never thought about it really, because I don't have kids. Why does it matter if someone knows where I am at all times. I'm independent. I can do what I want when I want. I make my own rules. When we were little, we were always told, if you are at a friend's house and leave to go to a different friend, you must call home to let someone know. And even when I was older, my mother would say, I don't need to know where you are, but please call me to tell me you are okay. She's my mother and I owe her that much.

I guess I'll never know the worry until I have my own kids. Your mother may not be sitting at home wringing her hands waiting for the phone to ring. But pick up the phone and say 'Hey mom, I'm okay'.

Wishing everyone a good Shabbos, and may this week be a good week for everyone, with lots of blessings, and only revealed good.