During our unexpected extended stay in Israel, one missile alert in the shelter revealed the quiet depth of a little girl’s faith.

One of the more meaningful undertakings while sitting in a mamad — a safe room — waiting for the all-clear during a missile alert, is to recite Tehillim (Psalms). Our hosts kept several well-worn copies in a basket in their shelter.

On one occasion, in order to steady the children, they suggested that each take a turn reading aloud. There is something uniquely stirring about hearing a child’s innocent neshama (soul) cry out to Hashem (God) for protection. The children may not grasp the full weight of the moment. The adults certainly do.

It was particularly moving to hear my eleven-year-old grandson and twelve-year-old granddaughter recite familiar passages from Pesukei d’Zimrah (Verses of Praise) — words that are part of their daily tefillah (prayer), now spoken with a different urgency.

Then our Israeli hosts’ six-year-old daughter — missing most of her front baby teeth — insisted that she, too, should participate. With complete seriousness she proceeded to “read” Tehillim 121 and 130. She was proud to be included alongside the older children.

At one point she accidentally dropped her sefer (prayer book). And in that small, unguarded moment, it became clear: she had not been reading at all. She was reciting from memory.

Those words were not embedded in the page. They were embedded in her heart.

I crown her my six-year-old toothless beauty.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)