Kfir was 9 months old when he was kidnapped.
(Loowan was 11 months old at the time.)
Ariel was 4 years old when he was kidnapped.
(Siikwan was also 4 at the time.)
My girls are just a few months older than the Bibas boys. When they were taken in their mother Shiri's arms over 500 days ago, I could feel the weight of her children in my arms. I've held my girls in my arms. I've picked them both up and felt the weight of their little bodies. Their little hands pulling at my shirt and shoulders. Their tiny breath breathing on my neck.
The look in Shiri's eyes is one that will be burned into my soul forever. Someone filmed that horrific moment. The moment Shiri had to grab both of her boys in her arms.
The terror.
This is terrorism. A mother ripped from her home with her children in her arms. Frozen in time.
What hurts more than the murder of innocent women and children is the fact that the world continues to blame the victims.
Israel shouldn't exsist.
Their home shouldn't have been there.
They are white colonizers anyway.
Resistance cannot be judged by the morals the rest of the world is held to.
Israel did it. It was an Israeli airstrike.
Why isn't there outrage that they were abducted in the first place?
Outrage that a baby was ever taken and held for ransom in the first place.
I don't know as though there I will ever be able to see a little red headed child and not think about the Bibas family. My soul will be searching for them forever, their faces carved into my psyche.
Today is rainy. It comes in waves like buckets of tears washing down on us in sporadic and erratic bursts. Then as the clouds move with the wind, a rainbow appears for a moment, a symbol of Gd's covenant with Noah and humanity. A message of reassurance and a symbol of Gd's everlasting love, acceptance and hope in us.
So I sit, listen to the rain and wait to pick up my kids from school. I want to wrap my arms around them and hold them forever.
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