Still mourning

It all keeps running through my head. The bravery of Sandra Samuel and the miracle of Moshe Tzvi's survival. The personal tragedies and indredible dedication of the Holtzbergs, HY'D. All the others who perished. Rivka Holtzberg, zt'l, being 6 months pregnant. Little Moshe witnessing his parents' death. The funeral which I watched in the morning. The words of Lubavicher Rebbe -if a few terrorists can accomplish so much bad how much more good a lot of us can accomplish.

I think the first time I came in contact with chadabnicks was in Italy. After all other representatives of various orthodox organizations left by the end of the summer, chabadniks were the only ones who stayed on (I later realized they were shluchim). They tought us, fed us, help us celebrate Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. They gave us a glimpse into the Jewish life that we weren't allowed to know of in our previous lives.

In my glorious single traveling days, my friends and I used to go to Chabad houses for shabbat, frequently just arriving at their door steps without any warning and still being welcomed in. Chabadniks in SF were there to feed us delicious baked chicken in the Golden Gate Park on chol hamoed Pesach ( a funny site- us and some users happily munching).

Chabadniks are the ones who visit Jews in some remote and sometimes forgotten places like nursing homes and hospitals in not-so-Jewish neighborhoods. The minor nuisance of being offered chanuka candles to one who lights is nothing in comparison to many many people who'd light because they were offered these candles. They may be controversial, a group one loves to hate yet Chabadniks like you because you are Jewish. Period.

I'm mourning. We all are. But maybe the best way to find comfort is to remember that we, Jews, are one and act that way.