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The moment I stepped into the annual Tzam’ah Event for Women at Binyanei HaUmah, I was enveloped by a wave of anticipation and joy. Walking past stalls selling chasidic books and even one testing for the bone marrow registry, I was drawn by the aroma of warm soups, kugels, and cholent wafting from the reception area. The hum of hundreds of conversations created an atmosphere alive with spirit and community.

The end of a short life filled with so much accomplishment came as a surprise to the students, and even to the family, of the beloved Rav of Lublin, Rav Meir Shapiro zt”l. He was only 46 years young when he developed a throat ailment that caused him to become weak, and he debilitated amazingly quickly. However, the doctors who checked him assured him that it would pass, and thus, no one was prepared on that fateful Thursday night. They barely had time to say T’hilim.

I walked up to the wall. But not just any wall! It’s a memorial wall, unlike any I’ve ever seen. A group from Ramat Beit Shemesh goes south every Chanukah to celebrate the holiday with IDF soldiers on an army base. This year, our tour guide referred to our outing as the Tour of Horrors and Heroes. The Tkuma Memorial was the first stop on our journey through tragedy and resilience.

The piercing wail of the siren shatters the quiet night, sending us stumbling through the dark toward the Protected Room, the reinforced space in our home designed for emergencies. This Chanukah, like so many holidays before, we find ourselves celebrating against the backdrop of conflict, with sirens cutting through the stillness. As of this writing, we are being awakened by sirens on many nights.

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.