In Everything Give Thanks.

April and May were two busy but blessed months, and Israel felt so close. HaYovel were holding meetings and making connections with various politicians and influential people, finding favour, and the outlook was good. There was one final meeting that everyone hoped would secure our entry, so we left Tremore—where we had been staying in the old school building—and went to stay at Pete’s parents’ home for the weekend before flying out.

Sadly, although the meeting went well, it did not result in permission to enter. There was going to be a lot more waiting.

We didn’t want to stay at Pete’s parents’ house for too long. They were staying at Pete’s brother’s holiday home and had generously let us use their house, but with the holiday season approaching, it was needed again. Then our farming friends got in touch—the same ones who had let us use a field for our caravans last year while we were waiting to go to Israel. This time, they offered us a house, which also came with the responsibility of supporting his mother, who has dementia.

We went up to meet the lady we would be caring for—we had met her briefly in the field the previous year—and it was agreed that we would take over from the family who had been supporting her at that time. We then returned to Tremore for a few days, waiting for them to move out before we moved in.

I had no prior experience with dementia, and I think I had imagined her more as a forgetful granny—sharing stories of the past as we sat in her beautiful farmhouse kitchen, with the occasional lapse in memory or the same story told more than once. The reality, however, proved to be somewhat different.

We were trying to share the house with her, but she would become confused, forget who we were, and sometimes grow cross with us and the children. On several occasions, we were woken in the middle of the night by her switching on lights and peering into the bedrooms. Eventually, we had to close off some doors so that we could function better as a family.

We talked and prayed about whether we should stay on, and how difficult we were finding it to be there. The children weren’t comfortable going outside and would stay indoors unless the farmer’s children were around.

One morning, as I was reading the book of James, this verse leapt out at me:

James 1:2. “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing”.

Well, if staying here was going to lead to that, then we decided we would stick it out. Something else that helped me keep going was the realisation that the house needed clearing. This is something I’ve always enjoyed, so with the farmer’s approval, I got started.

It was very satisfying to see the rooms gradually cleared, and we’ve ended up with four bedrooms, a lounge, and another room that I’ve earmarked for sewing or packing. I also began clearing the room next to the lady’s bedroom, thinking it would be nice to turn it into a sitting room for her, as she was spending most of her time sitting in the kitchen at that point.

And still, no word from Israel. Sometime in July, I decided that we probably weren’t going to get there, so we might as well settle in where we were. The children only had a tiny courtyard to play in, but we asked the farmer if they could use the orchard opposite our gate. We made plans to plant some vegetables and perhaps keep a few chickens—or even a turkey—for the winter. We could stay until next year and go to Israel in the new year, when all this nonsense would hopefully have died down.

Then word came from HaYovel that they were receiving good support from many different people who were backing their work in Israel, and that there seemed to be some changes to entry restrictions and possible exemptions. Suddenly, it looked as though there might still be a chance for us to go—and to my surprise, I felt disappointed. “But I’ve made so many plans now…”

After much prayer and seeking, Pete became convicted that staying here was not in line with Abba’s plan for us. The longer we stayed, the harder it would be to remain focused on supporting Israel. We wondered whether God was testing our hearts—whether we truly wanted to go to Israel, or whether we could be swayed by comfort and the pleasant rhythms of farming life. Even though the situation here was challenging, there were also many good things. Anya was having piano lessons with the farmer’s eldest daughter. Pete was learning a bit by being on the farm and was able to lend a hand when needed.

Once much of the clearing had been done in the house, it was decided that converting his mother’s living space into more of a granny flat would be a good idea. This involved installing an AGA (a wonderful British cooker), moving her sofa and special furniture, and building a kitchen in the conservatory. The project took two to three weeks and was a roaring success. We were quite apprehensive about the changeover day and expected a couple of very stressful weeks. But thank God—she was delighted. We’ve only had a few minor episodes of her wanting her old kitchen back.

We, on the other hand, were thrilled to have a proper kitchen again after cooking in the cold room for several weeks, with only a tabletop oven and a single induction hob. It’s amazing how much you can live without when you have to.

It is now mid-September. We have entered the feast season—a time of repentance and self-examination. What needs working on? What needs to be submitted afresh to Abba?

Looking back over the past three months, I think we have done well as a family. We were thrown in at the deep end and learned to swim. I am so proud of the children for how they handled difficult situations, even when it meant being indoors most of the time. They remained cheerful and found other ways to occupy themselves.

I am proud of my husband—the leader of our family—who has led us so faithfully. He has stepped out of his comfort zone many times. Even though he didn’t end up doing large amounts of farm work, he stepped in where needed, helping with milking or fixing whatever broke. Without him, we couldn’t have created such a lovely granny flat. He has also helped bring more structure into our days, so they don’t start too late.

I am thankful, too, for what I’ve been able to accomplish—clearing the house, being a carer of sorts, and coming to the realisation that I would rather invest my time in growing my own children and being present with them. I’m getting to know myself better. Yes, I can take on most things—but some things I can only carry for a while before they become too heavy.

I reflect on the times when perhaps I could have handled conflict with the children better. We are definitely growing in that area. I also think about the moments that will stay with us as a family—moments that have drawn us closer together. Lana’s bat mitzvah was one of those.

After planning a celebration with friends, we postponed it twice and eventually decided to celebrate at home on one Shabbat. It turned out to be beautiful, intimate, and truly special. Afterwards, we all inhaled helium from the balloons, laughed uncontrollably, and simply enjoyed being together as a family. I think that’s one of the loveliest things about this season—that we can just be us and have so much fun together.

I want to end with these verses from Deuteronomy 32:3–4:

“For I will proclaim the name of YHVH. Come, declare the greatness of our God! The Rock, His work is perfect, for all his ways are just. A trustworthy God who does no wrong, he is righteous and straight.

Our God is a God who does no wrong. His commandments, His statutes, His laws, His instructions, His Word, His decisions, His actions, and His will for our lives are perfect.

We have a choice: either we submit to Him and see the good, learn from Him, and rejoice in all things—or we struggle and give ear to our flesh. Whatever situation we find ourselves in is permitted by God, and within it we are given the choice: blessing or cursing.

Choose life, that you and your seed may live.