Moral of the Story: Don't Mess With Your Jewish Wife

Don't even think of contradicting the wishes of a Jewish wife.

From Barbara Sofer on the Avitans (here too), which I blogged about:-

ON JANUARY 19, at 8:45 in the evening, they got in their car to leave their home in the village of Shvut Rahel in Samaria, 45 kilometers north of Jerusalem. They were conscious of the time, because they were concerned they'd be late for a workshop they'd registered for at Kochav Hashahar, another village 20 minutes away. Moshe, a building contractor, was at the wheel, driving on the Allon Road. Phone reception in the area is irregular, but on her cellphone Sarah, an English teacher, tried calling her mother Ruth Pepperman in Jerusalem. Her mother didn't answer.

About 10 minutes into the drive, a car started passing them. As it pulled alongside, they heard four loud shots. The window on Moshe's side shattered. "I'm hit," Moshe shouted. "I can't see a thing." He stepped hard on the brakes and they swerved to the side. Their car stopped.

Moshe was bleeding from his mouth and nose. The phone rang. It was Sarah's mother calling her back. "Moshe's been shot. I can't talk," Sarah said and hung up. Sarah looked around quickly. What if the terrorists came back to finish them off?

In seconds she was out of the car. Her fingers dialed the emergency service. They answered on her first try. "Help! I need help! My husband has been shot!" The medic on the line asked her to describe the wound and suggested she have Moshe lie down. There was no way Sarah could get him into the back seat. Besides, she needed to get out of there before the terrorists returned.

Sarah managed to push Moshe into the passenger's seat. Blood poured from his head, but his eye didn't seem damaged. There was a bullet hole in his cheek. The medic told her to press a cloth against it, but there was nothing in the car. She was wearing two shirts. Without hesitation, Sarah lifted one over her head, and ordered Moshe to hold it against the wound. She gripped the wheel and stepped on the gas, heading for Kochav Hashahar.

AS SHE DROVE, Moshe thought he'd reached the end of his life. He thought back to meeting Sarah, whose family immigrated from Manchester, England, when they were youngsters. They'd married 14 years earlier when he was 19 and she was 18.

He bade good-bye to the woman he loved and then recited the Shema.

"I wasn't having any of that," said Sarah. "I didn't just talk to him, I shouted at him, 'I hope you haven't forgotten that we have five daughters to bring up and that you can't leave me alone to do this. You simply have to, have to stay awake and survive this.'"