Slice of Life

Last week, I attended the Heroism and Victory Conference at Binyanei HaUmah (International Convention Center) in Yerushalayim. Organized by families of fallen soldiers and hostages, the conference brought together ministers, MKs (Members of the Knesset), military personnel, media figures, and public leaders. Its message was clear: We must continue the fight until we achieve true victory. Over the past 14 months, the IDF has made monumental strides, but ending the war prematurely could jeopardize these hard-won achievements.

When we made aliyah 27 years ago, Beit Shemesh was a quieter, less developed town – a far cry from the bustling city it is today. Adjusting to its slower pace and limited options was challenging, particularly when looking for everyday essentials. Thankfully, we had Kol Bo Yechezkel, a store in the Migdal HaMayim neighborhood, which was far more than just a place to shop. Owned by the warm and ever-patient Yechezkel Tachvillian, it was a lifeline for new immigrants like us. True to its name (Kol Bo, meaning “everything”), the store stocked almost anything you could need (aside from food and clothes). But the true treasure of Kol Bo Yechezkel wasn’t the inventory – it was Yechezkel himself. Kol Bo Yechezkel didn’t just provide hardware; it offered connection, care, and community – a truly “everything” store for Beit Shemesh.

In and out. In and out. My son’s army unit has endured four rounds in Gaza. The IDF has shown its appreciation for the reservists who serve with such dedication by offering gifts, ceremonies, and various benefits. The soldiers are rightfully lauded for their contributions. However, behind many reservists stands a wife who sacrifices just as much – holding the family together during long nights of worry and uncertainty. These women play the role of both mother and father, anchoring the Homefront so their husbands can defend the nation.

My husband and I just returned from a trip to New York. Initially, I had little interest in traveling due to the current situation in Israel, but my husband twisted my arm encouraged me to take a break from it all and visit family. We made sure to purchase refundable tickets, because, as anyone who has lived during uncertain times knows, one never knows what each hour may bring.

Dvir, a “regular” chayal in the IDF, shared with me his experience of the chagim in Gaza. Dvir’s unit returned to Gaza for the fourth time since the war began, on the morning after the three-day Rosh HaShanah holiday. They were stationed near the Egyptian border where it was quiet – until it wasn’t.

These are crazy times. There’s no way to know what each day will bring. Sometimes the news is good, and sometimes it’s awful. Often, it’s both. The day Nasrallah was killed felt like a great victory. Even though it happened on Shabbos, word spread quickly. My son had been eager to share the news when he arrived for Shabbos lunch with his family. A secular neighbor in his building had placed an announcement in the elevator so his religious neighbors could hear about what had happened. But we already knew—someone had announced it in shul.