An Irish Sweater Dress

Tears interrupted. Hugs did too. The girls had moved onto the next table and were busy playing a ring toss game. We talked for more minutes.

The afternoon sun filtered through a wispy layer of clouds who blocked the F-16s on their sorties in the south.. I had temporary manned the prize table when a mom in her late thirties stopped by. Her two girls, ages nine and seven, were running their small hands through the pile of chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil. The light illuminated her sweater dress. It was a soft synthetic meant to mimic wool. My eyes always searched for beauty so they focused in on her outfit. Gunmetal in color, a neckline pattern swept from one shoulder seam to the other. I had seen it before in Ireland.

“I love your dress,” I said touching her outer shoulder ever so slightly. “It’s the perfect fabric for this weather.”

She absorbed the compliment as though she hadn’t heard one in a while. A manager at a financial firm, she had come straight from work. Her parents brought the girls to the fun-day. She joined her war-displaced family of four there.

“Thank you for this day. The children really need it,” she paused. “I need it too. I love to see them laugh and smile again.”

Her answers to my questions flowed easily. “I’m a single mom. We lived up north, across the street from the government evacuation line. It was too dangerous to stay. I couldn’t go to my parents because they have no bomb shelter.” She pointed to her right. “So I heard about this place and texted them. It’s been such a good answer for me. Somewhere I can stay. I even brought my parents in with me. We need to be together during this horrible time.”

She told me of her attempt to shield the girls from the nightmare. “I do everything to keep them normal and calm,” patting one on the head. “But still they don’t sleep well. Small sounds wake them. They wake up and ask for their home.”

I touched her arm again only this time allowing myself to lightly rub her back. She received the safe touch.

“I just don’t understand why you could come now?” She shook her head a little, left to right. “It’s dangerous. Why did you all do that?”

Looking her straight in the eyes I responded, “Because it is now that you need our love.”

Tears interrupted. Hugs did too. The girls had moved onto the next table and were busy playing a ring toss game. We talked for more minutes.

“As you leave today, know that we pray for Israel, for all families affected, and we ask for peace.” I told her.

“Thank you again,” she smiled gently. “God bless you for doing this.”