JUDEAN HILLS, Israel

I wonder how I got to this hilltop.

I love the sky, trees and jackals. I love the silence, sunsets and pine nuts that color my kids’ hands black. I love the stars, wildflowers and birds. I love that my children are accustomed to the voice of the wind.

I don’t love that people have been murdered in cold blood in the forest where I meditate with my daughters. I don’t love that across the valley live people who want to kill me for being Jewish, Israeli or for calling this place home.

I don’t love that some of my neighbors harbour that same enmity in the other direction. I don’t love that I have been branded — marked as evil and inhumane — by the very liberal sisters and brothers with whom I once shared my early dreams as we stargazed and boogied, kicking up tornadoes of dirt and good vibes at Grateful Dead shows.

I did not intend to live on contested land. I still don’t. But as a nomad aching to find soil that connects me to my roots, I arrived on this hill. I found powerful country, land where my ancestors wandered, prayed and created history. I’m a piece of that history unfolding, connecting to my past, to my people, continuing our story.

On this land my children wander barefoot, climb trees and forage for wild grapes, figs and pomegranates. They know the sounds of the natural world. They use their imaginations. When we began our first gardens, making the earth fertile, we learned to listen. I learned that if I waited a day to pick strawberries, the foxes would beat me to it. My children learned to plant, water, nurture and wait patiently until we could feed ourselves from the seeds we sowed.

We learned we had inner voices. We learned the only energy we have control over is our own. We learned the most important changes in this world happen outside politics and far from newspaper print. Teaching my children kindness not just in word but in deed became more important than all the many “world-saving” projects I envisioned. I learned to breathe deeply when I get frustrated with my kids. I now watch them breathe deeply when they become frustrated in life.

I am a mother, daughter, sister, wife, friend, teacher, yogi wannabe, guitar player, ukulele strummer, bread baker, fermenter, gardener, stargazer, forest walker, crocheter, herb infuser, tincture maker. I am a woman who is kind.

You might call me “settler” and believe that, regardless of my soul voice, I should move from my home. But please, for the sake of true peace, remember I am human.

Debby Titlebaum Neuman, a Pittsburgh native, lives in Israel with her husband, five daughters and their dog.

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