How We Found Purpose Amidst Tragedy

On the early morning of Simchat Torah, October 7, we heard the incessant booms, felt the ground shaking, and the house vibrating. We knew something extreme was happening, but without electricity during the holiday, we could only speculate and hear rumors. Throughout that fateful day, family, friends and neighbors were called up by the army, donning their uniforms, taking up arms, and reporting to their units. When the holiday ended and the horrors of that day became clear, we were nothing short of shocked. A modern-day pogrom in our homeland. Our brains couldn’t process what we were hearing. Our hearts couldn’t bear it. Our souls were depleted.

In the following days, further details of the inhumane acts perpetrated on our people—innocents, the young, the elderly, the infirm, entire families—came to light. You think you’ve reached your limit of what you can mentally handle, and then you’re faced with more atrocities. You can’t fathom how it’s possible, how people can act like monsters. It is then that you have a choice: break down and hide, or find your purpose, use your skills, act, do and help where you can. Trust me, I wanted to crawl under the covers and never come out. My heart and guts felt wrenched from my body, and I continue to feel that way every time we hear of another beautiful soul senselessly killed.

I couldn’t join the army or take up arms to protect my community. As I followed what was happening locally and nationally, a clear need arose. The army, caught off guard, wasn’t prepared for the attack or the rapid drafting of soldiers. They lacked the infrastructure to ramp up quickly and provide adequate food and nutrition. Parallel to this, our community was in mourning and needed a purpose. I realized that, living just an hour from the border, we could supply home-cooked nutritious meals to our soldiers. This would give us a sense of purpose and send a taste of home to our fighters.

That’s when the logistics part of me kicked in. I started by twinning communities with nearby army units, adopting them to supply all their needs—food, warm clothes, and other supplies. But there were no communities near the Gaza border as everyone was evacuated. Quickly, it became clear that our community could make and send home cooked food to the units. I created a Google doc and publicized it in the greater Beit Shemesh area. I found drivers willing to brave dangerous routes to deliver food and supplies. I oversaw what was coming in, ensuring we had balanced meals, including options for celiacs and vegetarians. I coordinated with the Rasap (the logistics person of the army unit) to work out needs, delivery, and timing. I monitored each order to see what was lacking, so my children and I could cook in our kitchen to fill the gaps. I wrapped, packed and sent off our courageous drivers.

Financially, this took a toll on the community. Thankfully, those who couldn’t cook started sending money to buy food. I began purchasing frozen chicken, keeping it in my freezer for volunteers to cook. The community was amazing. They were desperate to feel useful and do their part. Children sent pictures and words of support; mothers sent messages on the food covers they made; fathers toiled over the stove and oven to create tasty meals for our fighters. This work gave us a sense of purpose, a reason to face the day. Some days we made 50 meals, others over 700. The requests poured in.

David Kovler became my partner in finding fruits, vegetables, drinks, and other supplies to distribute to both soldiers and uprooted families in Beit Shemesh. People in the community thanked me for leading and organizing the initiative. I even received recognition from the city. My response has always been that this is and always will be a community effort. Their response: someone needed to take up the gauntlet and lead. That was never my intention, but it happened naturally. To date, we have supplied thousands of meals, and it hasn’t stopped. The pace has slowed as the army finds its footing, but we still do our part when needed. Just this past weekend, we supplied 100 Shabbat meals to soldiers serving on the Gaza border, soldiers who never get enough food. It’s an honor to do what little we can to support our brave men and women, sending them a hug from home.

As a project manager and logistics coordinator, I have always been driven by the need to organize, optimize, and support. The Iron Swords War brought our community to the brink of despair as we faced an unprecedented attack. Amidst the chaos, my role became clear: to utilize my skills to support our soldiers and community in their time of need. This experience reaffirmed my belief in the power of logistics and project management to make a tangible difference, especially in times of crisis.

We cannot rest until all of our hostages are home, our evacuated families are home, and we feel safe. The horrors we have endured and the ongoing struggles we face are constant reminders of our mission. Every meal, every effort anyone makes, is a step toward normalcy, a step towards hope. Bring them home now!