Yesterday, my Bella and I curled up to watch the beginning of the Macy’s parade. The guys were away playing football at our church’s annual Thanksgiving Day Turkey Bowl, so we turned up the sound and snuggled under blankets. We love the musical performances at 34th Street and she sat enamored with the music and dancing and the magic of each song. With each performance, I’d tell her the background story of the musical it was from and we’d dream about watching it together on Broadway one day.

After the first hour, we hit record so we could watch the parade with the guys later, and we headed into the kitchen to put together some yumminess for the guys when they got home. Having loved L’Chaim (To Life) from Fiddler on the Roof, we played the whole soundtrack and danced together in the kitchen while we stirred and poured and piled and baked. She hasn’t seen the movie yet, so I told her all about it as each song went on (and we’re counting down the days to Christmas break when we’ll curl up with movies and this is on our list).

Then it began. Anatevka. I stopped what I was doing, stood in the middle of kitchen and cried. It’s the point in the story when the Russians are expelling the Jews from their little village of Anatevka. They sing of their home, all they’ve ever known, and leaving it.

Oh, y’all, I listened to that song and all I could think about was today… of hundreds of thousands of refugees. Evil has forced them from their homes. They have nothing but what they carry with them. Some of them lose family along the way. They are looking for new homes, new lives…

Every night my family and I lay down on mattresses with piles of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and each other. We fill our bellies with delicious foods and play with our puppy and drive cars and look at closets filled with clothes and shoes and hats and coats. We have been given so much… so much that I take for granted.

And the refugees?

Soon I’ll be a stranger in a strange new place,
Searching for an old familiar face

My heart is broken for them.

One response to “Anatevka”

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