Chabad Israel Center just hosted ten severely wounded soldiers and victims of terror for a ten-day luxury trip to New York City. At our Friday night dinner with over 500 people, Tzippy Bloomberg, one of the guests, bravely shared her story.
“I was just a young teenager – only 14 years old - living with my family in Karnei Shomrom. On the day that would forever alter the course of my life, May 8th, 2001, I was in the car together with my family and another passenger. We were heading home, happy and calm, when traffic began to slow. My family and I were in one of several cars stuck behind a very slow-moving vehicle.
“The car slowing us all down had Palestinian identification plates. The car directly in front of us tried to overtake the car ahead. Suddenly, a spray of gunfire erupted from the Palestinian car. Bullets flew in every direction. The family in the first car managed to escape unscathed, but our car was hit badly.
“Everyone in the car was injured. My mother, in her fourth month of pregnancy, was killed instantly. My father was critically injured and remains paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair today. I was severely injured with gunshots to my spine and stomach.
“I was hospitalized for nine months and underwent three long and difficult operations. More than ten years later, I still attend daily physiotherapy. Nevertheless, I remain paralyzed; a constant reminder of the traumatic day which ripped my family and my childhood apart.”
Tzippy brought every single person in the room to tears when she said that the hardest part of her ordeal was not the physical pain. It wasn’t the countless surgeries, the blood tests or finding out she would never walk again. Tzippy continues to suffer severe pain to her entire body and there is nothing she can do to relieve the pain on a long-term basis. She has a device which she can switch on to provide some relief, but it is unreliable. At the moment it works, which is why she has been able to smile throughout the trip.
But even that was not the hardest part. No. Tzippy confided in the guests that the most difficult part for her, lying in the hospital bed, was having no one to hug her. Nobody to kiss her. Nobody to hold her hand and reassure her. Her mother was killed in the attack, and her father was in his own hospital bed, dealing with his own pain and paralysis. Her very aloneness in the hospital brought her to tears, day after day.
But now, said Tzippy, she no longer feels so alone. She is happy despite her pain. Happy to be alive, and happy to be in New York. In fact, I kept on noticing Tzippy’s brilliant smile over the course of our trip. How can someone in so much pain keep smiling?
And I realized, this is what Belev Echad does. It brings a smile to these brave young women’s faces; it makes them laugh, it gives them the warmth and love that Tzippy craved at her hospital bed. Belev Echad is like a giant hug, enveloping all 10 heroines with genuine love and affection.
When Tzippy finished talking, I was left with one thought: I need to learn from Tzippy. If she can find a way to be happy despite her tremendous ordeal, surely we can too. Let’s give it a try!
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