Draft Notices

Last week my two sixteen year-old daughters received their first draft notices in the mail. The fruit of my womb has been requisitioned by the Israel Defense Forces, and on May 25 my girls will start the process of enlisting in the army for two years after they graduate from high school.

This is a significant milestone for all of us, including me. I arrived in Israel after the draft age and never served in the army; at the end of eleventh grade I was filling out college applications and traveling around the northeast to visit campuses. (Needless to say, the thought of enlisting in the American armed forces never crossed my mind.) I missed out on the army as the ultimate experience of the Israeli melting pot; perhaps this is why I have always felt, to some extent, an outsider here. My daughters' army service might be my chance to serve in the army vicariously.

My husband's parents never wanted him to serve. Timid, fearful immigrants with Holocaust baggage, they sent him into exile in Canada at age fourteen, hoping he would choose not to return to Israel. Their plan backfired and he returned, determined to contribute, but the IDF was always a foreign body to them.

So our daughters will enlist with the full support and enthusiasm of both their parents because we believe deeply in the importance of the army as the tool of a strong, independent Jewish state. However, those letters from the IDF forced me to consider that our time together as a family in this configuration is running short. When our girls went off to first grade it seemed my ability to protect them was suddenly limited - all at once I found them with one foot outside the nest. Still, they were always close to home, in our orbit, under our watchful eyes, somehow steerable.

When they go off to the army we won't be able to see them from the nest anymore, a thought which prompts reflection on my role as a parent. Did I do the best job I possibly could while I still had the power to shape them? Have I prepared them to handle whatever will challenge them? Did I take advantage of every moment I had with them? Will they leave feeling loved and protected, or gasping for freedom?

It will be a struggle to step back and watch them take charge, although I believe that teaching our children to be independent is a parent's greatest obligation. If my daughters' army service will be an opportunity for them to learn and grow, then somehow the idea of an empty next isn't quite as daunting. I'll keep fluffing the feathers and warming the oven; hopefully, they'll always be happy to return home.