On a trip to Israel, walking along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea in Halfa, I was invited by a man in a pink fishing boat to take a tour of the shore of that area. As you can see from the photo it was not a very seaworthy craft. It looked like it had been repaired with fiber glass kits you buy in a hardware store and painted with pink house paint. My sense of preservation, knowing danger can be in the most innocent of settings, kicked in and my answer was obviously no. There was a very strong clue right in front of me (can you find it?) and I didn’t even see it, but knew instinctively, I couldn’t go.
Danger for most of us here in America represents driving on freeways, walking down dark streets, locking your doors at night, and staying away from neighborhoods that are filled with drugs, crime and gangs.
In Israel, danger lurks everywhere, yet the people I met took time to go to the market, eat good food, fellowship, go fishing, worship and take care of their homes and family. I only got a glimpse of what it means to live in a war zone, there were no incidents while I was there, from the telling of stories of the people I met.
How even the smell of a boiled egg can turn a stomach because during the war her mother would keep boiled eggs to take into the shelters during bombings. The seeking of peace in the Whirling Dervish Turn to forget about the visible scars of being the only survivor in a bus bombing. Eating chocolate, drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette while looking out a window at a balmy day…
These survivors of war, living in the confines of war, live their lives as though nothing is out of the ordinary. Here in America we continue to do the same, live our lives as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening with the losses of our freedoms, forming a hard shell to cover ourselves with to avoid the pain of watching our world in such chaos and danger.
I didn’t see the word DANGER on this man’s shirt until I was looking at the photos while editing. Sometimes DANGER is plainly spelled out–we just miss it.