Photo Credit: Tzviel Rodich
“Ima, no one will do this if we don’t!”
A mother of hill youth shares about the scent of open spaces and redemption when her son returns home exhausted. About the self-sacrifice that leads him to fight fires, the prices paid, and perhaps the reward that will yet come.
I walk into the house in the afternoon and suddenly the air is filled with the smell of the fields, the open spaces, and Redemption. I recognize it at once… My son has returned! Back from his hill. What joy! I missed him so much.
He hasn’t been home in more than two weeks. I asked him to come back, but I understand. He can’t simply leave the place.
“Mom, do you know what will happen if I leave? Who will protect the sheep? They need protection for many hours at night. Who will take them out to pasture tomorrow?” I understand… but I still miss him.
And how exhausted he is. His eyes close in the middle of talking to me. When he sleeps at home, waking him for meals is no easy task. “How do you manage to wake up to guard them?” I often ask in wonder. “On the hill, we just wake up. We do what’s needed.”
We visit him on the hill often. The first time we came, we could barely find it — just a small blip at the end of a rocky, ice-covered mountain. But now — wow! Sheep are already grazing. The boys have built several houses and are preparing to build a synagogue. They’ve planted trees, and before the rains come they will plow the field. The Land of Israel brightens and shines for them, for our sons.
On the way to the hill you see more and more hills with Jews on them. It is a feeling of strength! Not long ago it was truly frightening to drive on this road. Really.
These young men are engaged in a kind of auxiliary warfare, helping the army hold the land. The Arabs see them and understand that the people of the land have returned — and that it is time for them to go their separate ways. I wish the Israeli authorities would better understand this miracle unfolding through our sons. I would hope they would be inspired. If not, at least they should treat our youth well.
I am a mother, and I worry constantly — about arrests, about harassment, about gunfire from terrorists.
Once, when my son came home, I noticed he was missing a peyah and part of his beard. He told me there had been a huge fire. They were called up on Shabbat and a few of them went immediately to help. They fought the flames for hours with blowers and fire beaters. Many people arrived; it was a long line of fire running down the slope, and the fire trucks couldn’t get through. Fires are nothing new, but this one was especially fierce. While they were extinguishing it, the flames jumped and burned his peyah and beard. I didn’t even know at the time, because he went straight back to the hill, sparing me the worry. That boy.
He knows how proud I am of him — and also how much I worry and fear. And my son? Fear and worry are far from him. He simply moves forward, acting and doing, all the time.
He is already living in the Redemption.
The writer is a resident of Samaria; a mother of nine, including Hilltop Youth and a soldier in the IDF; and a doctor of computer science.
In cooperation with “Mothers of the Hills”
For the Hebrew original:
https://www.hakolhayehudi.co.il/item/Land_Israel/_%D7%90%D7%9E%D7%90__%D7%90%D7%99%D7%9F_%D7%9E%D7%99_%D7%A9%D7%99%D7%A2%D7%A9%D7%94_%D7%96%D7%94_%D7%90%D7%9D_%D7%9C%D7%90_%D7%90%D7%A0%D7%97%D7%A0%D7%95_
Posted July 26, 2026
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