#8 - Mimsie in Israel

March 16, 2026

Today I learned something surprising about living with missile alerts.

Apparently Jerusalem still has a few lessons left to teach me.

I have absolutely no idea how long five minutes is.

Here’s how the warning system works here: first an alert pops up on my phone saying a missile has been launched toward our area. When the alert comes through, my phone lights up and buzzes with that warning — and suddenly the next five minutes matter.

That alert from Home Command gives us about five to seven minutes to get close to a protected space — time intentionally built in so people can respond before the siren sounds. Then the siren goes off and we have ninety seconds to get inside.

I’ve learned that this early alert was added after the October 7th invasion, when it became clear that ninety seconds wasn’t enough time for everyone — especially older people — to safely reach shelter.

You can see the care in it… years of planning, even down to building codes that include protected spaces in public places.

The problem is… five minutes can feel like ten seconds when your brain starts racing.

So I’ve started doing something simple.

The moment the alert comes in, I look down at my watch… and start the stopwatch.

Today that little timer turned out to be incredibly helpful.

We had two sirens today.

The first one happened when Benley and I went out to grab pizza. Jen and Elly had taken Yahley to renew his Israeli passport… so it was just the two of us.

With his birthday coming up on Wednesday, we took advantage of mom and dad being gone… pizza and a little treat felt like the right thing to do. (I captured the moment below.)

Before leaving the apartment, I made sure I knew where the protected spaces were along the way to the pizza place. It’s just a short ten-minute walk… and my watch was ready in case an alert came through.

Which it did.

But thankfully we had already picked up the pizza — the moment you just saw — and were only a few minutes from Jen’s apartment… so no running this time. We had enough time to get back to the building and even ride the elevator up to the second floor (you can’t use the elevator once the siren sounds).

When the siren went off, we simply stepped into the mamad.

The hot pizza stayed on the kitchen table… and our tummies weren’t too happy we didn’t think to bring it with us.

The second siren came later when Jen and I were driving Benley to soccer practice.

Yes… they are still having soccer practice.

It’s just been moved indoors to a school gym because the building has protected space.

We had already had a siren earlier in the day, so we kind of assumed we might be okay for a while. In fact, we even talked about walking — it’s only about a fifteen-minute walk.

But we were enjoying our afternoon coffee — mine iced, of course — and suddenly realized we had run out of time to walk.

So we loaded up in the car and headed toward the school.

About halfway there the alert came through.

I immediately looked down at my watch… and started the stopwatch.

We had one stoplight to sit through… a few turns to make… and then came the real challenge in Jerusalem–

finding parking.

But suddenly… there it was. A perfect parking spot right near the entrance to the school.

I had a brief George Costanza moment — if you’ve seen Seinfeld, you remember the episode… perfect parking spot… and he’s just so proud of himself.

Three minutes left.

We parallel parked (which isn’t exactly the fastest maneuver), got the kids out of the car, and walked into the gym.

Two minutes to spare.

We were inside… with time left.

And then, right on cue, it all started.

The siren sounded — and almost instantly phones all around the room began going off too.

A mix of sounds filled the space… the rising siren outside and the loud phone alert repeating in Hebrew, “Tzeva Adom… Tzeva Adom…” — the final warning to take shelter.

It’s a lot of noise… especially for little ones.

At the apartment, we’ve learned to grab Yahley’s headphones to muffle it so it doesn’t scare him.

But this time… there were no headphones for little Yahley.

For a few minutes we stood there with a crowd of people — mothers and fathers, kids of all ages — probably somewhere between seventy-five and a hundred of us — all strangers waiting together for the all-clear.

And as often happens here, people start talking.

But what caught my attention were the kids.

They started looking around… spotting familiar faces… and before long a few of them recognized teammates and began talking like it was any other day. Meanwhile, the parents were all doing what parents do — checking phones, looking for updates, waiting for the all-clear.

If you’re wondering what you could pray for…

Pray for the kids growing up with these sirens.

Poor little Yahley had enough tonight. The sound of the siren really frightened him.
And pray especially for the moms.

Earlier I watched mothers pushing strollers, trying to navigate babies and little ones down staircases toward shelters. It’s not easy managing children and fear at the same time.

But something beautiful happens in those moments. People hold doors. Someone helps carry a stroller. Kids get gently guided along by strangers.

Even with the help … it’s not easy on mothers.

When the all-clear came, we headed back upstairs… 

... and soccer practice started.

Just like that.

I continue to be amazed at the resilience of the people around me.

Watching all of this today made me think about something else.

My nephew Brennan is the starting quarterback for Bryant University. I’ve watched him — and his brothers — play football since they were little boys.

One thing that has always impressed me is how quarterbacks seem to know exactly how much time they have left.

In college football they have 40 seconds between plays before they’re penalized for delay of game.

But Brennan rarely looks rushed.

Even when the play clock is ticking down, he studies the defense, calls the play, and somehow still snaps the ball with a second or two to spare.

That little stopwatch on my watch did something similar for me today.

When the alert comes through and I start the timer, suddenly those five minutes aren’t just a vague feeling anymore. I can actually see the time passing.

And strangely… knowing the time brings calm.

Instead of reacting in panic, I can think more clearly and make better decisions.

The Bible reminds us that God has already numbered our days.

“Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” — Psalm 139:16

And Scripture also reminds us that God is still completing the work He has planned for our lives.

“... He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” — Philippians 1:6

When I see time through God’s lens, it changes how I live the minutes in front of me.

Instead of rushing around like I’m running out of time…

I can pay closer attention to what God has placed right in front of me.

The conversation.
The child who needs comfort.
The person standing next to me in a shelter.

Today I learned something new.

Five minutes can feel very short… or surprisingly long.

But when I see time through God’s lens — when I remember that He has numbered my days and is completing His work in me — I can slow down… pay attention… and use the time He has given me well.

Because sometimes…
a lot really can happen in five minutes.

And maybe that little stopwatch is reminding me… to spend those minutes better than I did yesterday.

– Mimsie in Israel