Ammunition lies on a road following a mass infiltration by Hamas gunmen in the Sderot area of southern Israel October 7, 2023.
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This morning, I took my father-in-law to a hospital in Jerusalem for a routine checkup. While he was being examined, I sat in the waiting room, as always, but this time would be different.
I started a conversation with the lady sitting next to me, whose husband also had an appointment. She was in her 60s and, by her calm demeanor and modest appearance, was very devout. Her name was Ayala (Hebrew for gazelle).
I discovered she was from Sderot, the largest town along the Gaza border. She had been there with her family on October 7, 2023.
When they started hearing rockets at half past six that morning, they rushed into their little safe room, just as they had done dozens of times before. They were 12 people in a space meant for five.
For 10 hours they stayed in that room without daring to leave. Outside they could hear gunfire, Arabic voices and screams for help. There was no lock on the door of their shelter, not even a door handle. Had the invaders entered the home, the occupants would have become terror victims. They called the local security office, the police and the army, but no one answered. (Later they learned they had all been killed.) Ayala said they were praying the entire time.
When they finally heard the Hebrew voices of Israeli soldiers late in the afternoon, they left their shelter and went outside.
The home to Ayala’s left had been attacked. They went in to help. The family living there had been murdered. Lifeless bodies lay on the floor. The place had been ransacked. Ayala left in horror, shaking.
They checked the home to their right. It was the same picture. Men, women and children had been slaughtered. Blood was everywhere on the furniture, the walls, the floor.
Why not me? Why not us? Ayala didn’t understand why they had been spared. It could only be a heavenly miracle.
After 18 months, those images still haven’t disappeared, she said. The people affected are in unending trauma, some barely able to move on with their lives, or even get out of bed in the morning. The children have trouble learning at school. Counsellors provide help, but it is only temporary relief.
Many residents still haven’t returned and are afraid to. Yet, despite all the horrors, Ayala says it is because of her faith that she still believes this is our country, our God-given land, where we belong, where she belongs.
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My wife’s report above is heartbreaking. Sadly, every Israeli knows of people with a similar experience. Families obliterated. Livelihoods destroyed. Homes devastated. These have been the needs we have faced in the past year and a half.
Coincidentally, this conversation took place on Holocaust Remembrance Day. I thought of our relatives who perished violently in Europe during the Holocaust over eighty years ago. I never met them and rely on vignettes about events in their lives.
Each year at Passover we read that “In every generation there are those who have tried to destroy us, but the Holy One, blessed is He, has saved us.” Indeed, this is our story of faith.
We have helped hundreds of needy people–some of them lost everything on October 7–with food, clothing, supplies and shelter, every case verified. We also sponsor four soup kitchens across Israel, where thousands of the hungry are fed every week.
We can help because of generous readers like you. May our Heavenly Father bless you for your kindness.