Nothing can truly prep you for that phone call.
I’d heard the news about the bomb threats targeting Jewish Community Centers across the nation. I was aware of the rising number of incidents, and deep down, I suspected we might face something similar sooner or later. But nothing could ready me for that moment.
I work at a synagogue and collaborate closely with the Anti-Defamation League. We receive updates whenever threats arise against local Jewish institutions, so I know the protocols we have in place. Yet, nothing could brace me for that call.
I had just attended a security briefing at our local community center, where my little one goes to preschool. I learned about the safety measures they were implementing and how the staff had been trained. Homeland Security had been involved, and I left feeling reassured. Confident that this place was prepared for any situation.
But nothing could have prepared me for that call.
“Do you have both kids with you?”
I had taken a day off to spend time with my eldest, while my youngest was at school. Looking back, I can’t quite express the whirlwind of emotions I felt, knowing I had made the decision to send him off that day. If something had gone wrong, and I had sent him to school when I could have kept him safe, I would have never forgiven myself. The guilt was overwhelming.
“No, I just have Mira. Come join us! Ethan’s at preschool.”
“There was a bomb threat called into the community center this morning. Everything is fine for now, but I wanted to let you know.”
My heart dropped. I felt completely numb.
I hung up and glanced around the indoor playground where I had met some friends. I told Mira I’d be back, turned to my friend, and said, “I have to go get Ethan. There was a bomb threat.”
It was pouring rain, and I was a solid 30 minutes from his school. I drove like a woman possessed—no, like a mother who had just learned that her child’s life was in danger due to the faith he was born into. I made the drive in 11 minutes.
Let that sink in.
I was racing to save my child, whose school was threatened simply because it was a Jewish institution. Hatred. Ignorance. When did this become normal?
The email we received was frustratingly vague, mentioning a threat and that the building had been evacuated, and that the children were safe. Don’t come pick up your child.
Don’t come get my child? I get it; I understand the safety protocols. I know that my presence could put me in danger. But in that moment, none of that mattered. I needed to get to my baby, and if that meant putting myself at risk, so be it. The thoughts racing through my mind as I tried to talk (between sobs) to my husband were ones no parent should ever have to face. That conversation should never have occurred.
As I turned onto the street, I convinced myself I was ready to drive straight through the gate if it was closed.
Fortunately, it wasn’t. I dashed into the school, and a staff member directed me to where the kids had been evacuated. I sprinted to my car, pulled up to the building, and waved my security badge like a madwoman, desperate to hold my child.
I’ll never forget the look on his teacher’s face. “Is this real? Please tell me you know what’s going on.” She searched my expression for reassurance that I simply couldn’t provide. All I could say was that I had no idea, but I needed to see my kid.
As I exited, I glanced back at a building full of children—laughing, singing, playing, and blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding. I later learned they were told it was a field trip, leaving it up to the parents to decide how much to reveal to their little ones.
When I finally had Ethan safe in my arms and was out of the building, it felt like I had been given a second chance at life. As I drove away, I was strangely grateful that he was too young to understand what had just happened. He wouldn’t remember this, but I would never forget.
This was just another wave of threats targeting JCCs across the country, but nothing could have prepared me for that call.
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