We originally moved to this particular settlement to be with family. My husband's three sisters and their families, who moved to Israel 18, 12 and 10 years ago -- all live within four blocks of our small rented apartment. Our children are basking in the attention of their aunts and uncles and their 12 cousins. Our plan was simply to move to Israel, but we decided that our integration would be easier and the learning curve shorter if we could rely on close family nearby.

Many of the people who live here do not appear to have come for ideological reasons, but rather for a better quality of life. They've moved here for the reasons people usually move to the suburbs: The air is fresh, the greenery abundant, the children can play unsupervised in the community's myriad parks or walk themselves to a friend's house in safety. The school system that my children attend was recently ranked third in spending per pupil. Tax breaks for living here, which Sharon championed for years before becoming prime minister, also make buying and renting in the settlements much more affordable and attractive.

But our pastoral way of life has been shattered by almost daily reports of suicide bombers and attempted attacks that filter through the media and by word of mouth. When someone attempted to blow himself up inside a crowded supermarket in the settlement of Efrat near Jerusalem, just hours before the Sabbath, news of the thwarted attack (thanks to the quick thinking of one of the store's shoppers) hit the Internet at the same time it did the TV news. I read about it on our community's electronic bulletin board, since I try not to watch local TV news when my children are in the room. Many people in this community have friends in Efrat, and Saturday morning our synagogue buzzed with secondhand reports of what had taken place in one of the last Israeli towns to allow Arab workers inside its gates.

Through the attacks, I have felt a deepening connection to my neighbors, including those that have mourned death at the hands of Palestinian terrorists -- local deaths have included a mother of five children, three 14-year-olds, an elderly gentleman from the former Soviet Union -- just as I am connected to all Israelis who have suffered attack upon attack and who are fearful for themselves and their children every time they leave their homes.

It has also helped to put the little things into perspective. So what if my newly imported American stove does not work properly? So what if I can not find an Israeli brand of peanut butter that tastes halfway decent? So what if my daughter has brought home head lice from school again? People are dying out there -- mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. We had barely connected with our new, but in many ways only, homeland before we felt we were truly at war to defend it.

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