A Punch In The Stomach.
Here's a teaser:
My beloved son, even after eight months, was referring to the Palestinian protesters in a tone that he would use to talk about wild animals. The dehumanization of the Palestinians was so deeply ingrained in his psyche that even after three-quarters of a year into my “mission,” he could not free himself of it. I said nothing. There was nothing to say. Was my “mission” useless? Was this family sacrifice for naught? ...
I found this very powerful. Reading this - for me - was a "punch in the stomach." It explains, in part, why I left Israel 25 years ago, after living there for 15 years, and having 3 children born there.