#3 - Mimsie in Israel

March 2, 2026

What in the World Is a Mamad?

Until Jen moved to Israel, I didn’t know what a mamad was.

Now it’s part of my everyday vocabulary. It also answers the question I’m being asked most right now: “Where do you go when the siren sounds?”

When the sirens sound, you go to the closest protected space.

For Jen and Elly, that’s their mamad — a reinforced safe room built right into their apartment.

It looks like a normal bedroom. But the walls are thick concrete. A heavy steel door. A window with a really heavy metal shutter. It’s Benley and Yahley’s room … until the siren sounds — and in an instant, their sweet little bedroom becomes the safest place for all of us.  

Here's Jen shutting the metal "shutter" — definitely not from the Pottery Barn catalog :-)
I’m deeply grateful that I’m only steps from the mamad. No stairs. No scrambling outside. Just a few strides down the hall and we’re inside.

Some buildings have a mamak — one reinforced shelter per floor that neighbors share. 

Others rely on a miklat, a larger shelter usually on the ground floor or underground for the whole building. 

Elly’s parents live nearby, and their miklat requires walking down five flights of stairs. That’s right … five. Count ’em: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 — all while the siren is sounding.
 
In the daytime that’s one thing. But in the middle of the night? When it’s cold? You have to be dressed enough to leave your apartment. Shoes ready. Coats nearby. Because once the siren goes off, you move.

Here’s a short clip Elly’s sister, Yael, took after they walked down all five flights of stairs and entered their miklat. You can see it’s on the ground floor. (Thanks, Yael, for sharing — I know you didn’t film it thinking we’d be posting it here.)

The Alerts

Before the loud neighborhood siren ever sounds, there’s an alert on my phone. It comes through the Tzofar app — the one I downloaded after October 7th.

I’m not an expert in any of this. I’m just learning as I go. But here’s how I am experiencing it.

First, an early notification is triggered when a missile is launched from Iran and is headed toward your area. Our area is Jerusalem South.

The alert tone is distinct. It gets your attention. It tells you to get close to a protected space. From launch to Jerusalem, that missile can take about 7–8 minutes.

So you don’t need to run.

You wait.
You listen.
You move closer to the safe room … and stay ready.


This is Yahley’s cue for headphones :-)
Then, if your specific neighborhood is targeted, the really loud Red Alert siren sounds. That’s the one that makes your heart race.
From that moment, you have about 90 seconds to get to a safe room. Ninety seconds is plenty of time — if you’re following the rules to stay close to your shelter (and I'm a rule-follower).

When the sirens sound, we don’t have to call for the kids. Benley and Yahley already know the routine — just like thousands of children across this country. They move quickly, small feet headed to safety. It’s amazing what becomes normal for little ones.

We’ve also learned to pause just long enough to ask, “Anyone need to go to the bathroom?” — because once the heavy door closes, we stay there until the Home Front Command tells us it’s safe to come out. Sometimes that’s 15 minutes … sometimes it’s over an hour. Which is exactly why we handle “all necessary business” before the door shuts.

Sometimes, from inside the mamad, you can hear the interception booms overhead — usually distant, because they’re happening high up in the sky.


But last night was different.

The booms were louder than usual. One missile made it through and struck a few miles from us. A driver was killed instantly.

We were sitting in a safe room.

Someone's life ended on a road outside.

That’s hard to hold.

Concrete and Fortress

Strangely, I have grown fond of our mamad.


The concrete walls.
The sealed window.
The heavy door that closes tight.
A room prepared ahead of time.


It’s the place we run when the siren sounds.


And it has quietly reminded me of something deeper — that I also have a place I run when fear rises.


When I sit there, I think about the hymn, A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.


The mamad is strong — but it’s only concrete and steel.


Psalm 91:2 says,
“He is my refuge and my fortress.”


Psalm 61 calls Him
“my refuge, a strong tower against the foe.”


The mamad is where I run when alarms sound.

The Lord is where I run when my heart feels unsteady.


One shelters my body.
The other shelters my soul.


And knowing both are there … brings me peace.

– Mimsie in Israel

2 Comments


Cindy Martz - March 4th, 2026 at 5:58am

Hi Alice, I met you in 2023 when my husband and I went with Disciple Daily on their Experiencing Israel tour. We visited Jen’s church and had dinner with you and Keith the last day of our trip.

n

nArlie did a Walk through The Bible and then zoom with my husband and me as well as 13 other disciples of Jesus. Our team here in PA is praying for you and Jen. I am praying for the peace of Jerusalem. God is in control. ♥️?

Gregg - March 4th, 2026 at 12:33pm

Praise God for your testimony and your faith

Recent

Archive

Categories

Tags