My Mother cries for Syria’s refugees

Its Friday night, we are having Shabbat dinner in Tel Aviv, and my mother is crying for the Syrian refugees living in squalid conditions in refugee camps.

She recently fell down and broke her shoulder. Her arm is in a sling.

With tears in her eyes she tells us:

“I cry every night for the Syrian refugees who are stuck in the cold. For the pregnant mother who is freezing. I suffer for my shoulder and think how much more they must be suffering in these cold and miserable conditions, away from their homes”.

I dedicate this blog to my mother, Sarah (Soraya). Her sense of humanity has taught me much.