SMS messages began appearing on cellphones. "Dad, we're back!"; "Mom, we're praying in the Katif synagogue!" Soldiers formerly from Gush Katif had entered the Gaza Strip and had returned to Gush Katif. Weeping, hugging each other, they stood at the entrance of their former communities looking for signs of their previous lives amidst the rubble. Standing empty but charred were the remains of synagogues, always the most beautiful structures in the settlements.



And then they began the search for Hamas terrorists, the new owners of this once-paradise called Gush Katif.



Friday night, we visited friends gathered to celebrate a new grandson. We munched on the traditional chickpeas, wished the parents and grandparents well, and heard words of Torah. Jet fighter planes flew overhead minutes apart on their bombing run to Gaza.



We welcomed the Sabbath day by greeting old friends living in other parts of Israel who had come to Nitzan for a Shabbat reunion. We held a communal seudah shlishit, the third Shabbat meal, on the lawn near the N'vei Dekalim sign transferred from the small knoll at the entrance to our former community. The youth sat in a circle singing the dirges signifying the passing Sabbath day. Our Chief Rabbi, Yigal Kaminetzky, spoke and former Council Head Avner Shimoni greeted old friends. His wife, Rachel, who had been the architect of our lovely home in N'vei Dekalim, spoke with me.



"Avner immediately joined the Judea, Samaria and Gaza Council and plunged into the fight against the next planned expulsions. He just resigned from the Council. He needs time to reflect, to rest, to recall and to mourn." Jet fighters broke the Sabbath peace as they swooshed towards their Gaza targets.



Sunday morning, we babysat our chubby granddaughter Alma. Eda, her twin, is in hospital dehydrated from a stomach virus. While tense and worried about our tiny twin granddaughter, we sat and played with Alma under a shade tree near our daughter's home. The baby's gurgles were drowned out by the jet fighters streaking across the sky towards Gaza, or to the north.



No meal, no celebration, no moments of peace are granted to us without the reminder that Israel is at war.



Monday night, a mass meeting of N'vei Dekalim residents scattered throughout the country took place in Nitzan. Our youngsters sang, held orange balloons, and performed in short skits describing the last month of the army's siege of Gush Katif and our eventual resettlement in Nitzan and Ein Tzurim.



The most painful moments were watching the film "A Jew Does Not Expel a Jew". Dr. Sodi Namir is seen lighting a torch at the annual Independence Day celebration at Mount Herzl in Jerusalem. He represented the heroic medical staff that had cared for the sick and wounded in Gush Katif. Fast forward to his Gaza home, where he sits with his wife Becky and their many children. They are praying and weeping as soldiers break in to forcibly evict them.



Dr. Namir cries, "Shma Yisrael - Hear O Israel, the Lord is One!" And then, he shouts, "The bombs will fall in Sderot and Ashkelon, and you, the soldiers, will be guilty of great harm to this country because of your actions today!"



A jet blasted overhead towards Gaza as we watched him speak these prophetic words in the film.



Our year of mourning is nearing its end. A year of mourning will begin for the soldiers slain in battles in Gaza and Lebanon. The enemy's appetite was whetted when given the prize of Gush Katif.



As the jets fly overhead, we turn back the clock; and in our past, we see the future.