Finding Strength in the Storm

The following is an article that I wrote, which appeared in the June 26, 2025, editions of the Washington Jewish Week and the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent, and the June 27, 2025, edition of the Baltimore Jewish Times:

As a parent of four children, I count my blessings daily. Each of them brings me an immense amount of pride and joy in their own unique way and hearing about their aspirations and accomplishments is something that I relish greatly.

I am particularly proud of the fact that my older three children live in Israel. They have successfully built their lives in the Jewish state and their love of the land and culture is boundless.

Yet there are admittedly some challenges when your children live in Israel. When Israel’s enemies threaten its inhabitants and launch attacks, I worry about my children. When Israel becomes entangled in a military conflict as it seeks to address the existential threats that it faces, I am concerned about my children. I think about them and pray for their safety and well-being always.

Needless to say, the Israel-Iran conflict has brought with it a sense of unease. With Iran launching a barrage of ballistic missiles at Israeli cities and population centers, my children, along with millions of other Israelis, have been in and out of safe rooms and bomb shelters on a regular basis since Operation Rising Lion began. They have had their lives turned upside down as sirens wail in the middle of the night and during the day, and their daily routines have been upended as restrictions were put in place by Israel’s Home Front Command in an effort to keep people safe in the face of Iranian missiles.

As a writer and a journalist, I beamed with pride as I read a blog post that my daughter Yaffa, who is kid No. 3 and daughter No. 2, wrote for The Times of Israel, in which she beautifully expressed her feelings amid the current situation and did a masterful job articulating her thoughts, which I imagine are sentiments that are shared by numerous Israelis, particularly during these challenging times.

I’ve decided to reprint her post here, with the hope that you will find it as inspiring as I did and that it will provide a glimpse into the heart and mind of my daughter who lives in Jerusalem, has spent the past two years doing national service by working with children with special needs, and who made the bold and commendable choice to make Israel her home.

Finding Strength in the Storm

I came to Israel full of hope and idealism, ready to give back to my country through national service. Over the past two years, I’ve had the privilege of working with children with special needs — a role that impacted me more than I ever expected. But nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.

I was here on Oct. 7, when everything in the country shifted. I remember the fear, the uncertainty, and the suffering as the country came to a standstill. And now — living in Jerusalem — as the threat of Iran grows and the uncertainty deepens once again.

Going into Shabbat, I was preparing myself for what was to come. During dinner, the sirens began to wail and there wasn’t much time to react. We grabbed some water and went to the safe room, our food still on the table.

We stayed in the safe room for over an hour that night. As we sat on the floor, we listened to the sky. The loud booms overhead weren’t just sounds — they were a reminder. A reminder that even during Shabbat, even in moments of peace, danger is never far.

I often get asked, “How can you live there with everything going on?” And my answer is always the same: How could I not? This is where I’ve found purpose, connection and strength. I am beyond proud to call Israel my home.

Israel has tested me in every way — emotionally, spiritually, even physically. But it has also given me more than I could have imagined: a sense of purpose, a deeper connection to something bigger than myself, and a community that doesn’t just survive hardship — we grow stronger through it.

I’ve seen the worst of what humanity can do. But I’ve also seen the best — people opening their homes, supporting one another through grief, and being there for one another. That’s the rhythm of life here: sorrow and celebration side by side. And somehow that contrast makes everything more meaningful.

I didn’t move to Israel expecting comfort. I came searching for meaning. And even with sirens, rockets and uncertainty — I’ve found it. Not in safety, but in strength. Not in the quiet, but in the courage.

And so I stay — not because it’s easy, but because this is my home.