I’m OK – and I feel safe most of the time! There are occasional sirens – 2 or 3 times a day – which means running to our safe room (a concrete reinforced room in our apartment with steel doors and shutters) and waiting inside for 10 minutes. There are often very loud explosions when the Iron Dome system shoots down the Hamas rockets.

I’m OK – and I feel safe most of the time! There are occasional sirens – 2 or 3 times a day – which means running to our safe room (a concrete reinforced room in our apartment with steel doors and shutters) and waiting inside for 10 minutes. There are often very loud explosions when the Iron Dome system shoots down the Hamas rockets.

However, I’m not OK. None of us are. Tel Aviv is eerily quiet – most stores other than supermarkets are closed – coffee shops opening a few hours a day (clearly a barista prepared coffee is an essential of life). Buses are empty and there is very little traffic. People simply don’t want to go out, everyone prefers to stay close to home, close to a safe room.

I’m not OK. None of us are. This is not a time for politics, however political sentiment is simmering just below the surface. I attended a candle-light vigil Saturday night. Amidst our tears and quiet sobbing, we recited the prayer for hostages along with the prayer for the State of Israel. The traditional prayer includes wording that asks God’s guidance for our leaders, for our government. A number of people couldn’t take it and screamed out “its too late for that”. After this war ends, there will be an investigation into what went wrong, how our government and our army weren’t there to protect us. There will be a reckoning. But not now. Not when we desperately need the unity of our people to bring us added psychological and physical strength.

I’m not OK. None of us are. The pictures and the stories, the barrage of news, are all constantreminders. It feels like they were coming for each of us. The barbarity, the inhumanity was so extreme as to be unfathomable.

We are not OK. When I speak with friends, there is a new feeling of vulnerability. They came for us – for each of us. It was simply a matter of luck that we weren’t at the music rave; that we weren’t in our bedrooms in Sderot, that we weren’t in our kitchens in a kibbutz on the border.

I’m not OK. None of us are. We are a country truly on the verge of tears. The radio plays slow, sad, mournful music. Melancholy is in the air. It’s palpable. I saw a young child smiling today and realized how much joy is missing from our lives. We are on the edge of tears.Everyone knows someone, has a friend, a colleague, a co-worker. We’ve all been touched, we’re all affected.

200 funerals in a day in one cemetery. We are all on the edge of tears.

Your messages of support have an impact. They remind us that we’re not alone. When you send thoughts and prayers, we are uplifted. Prayers have an impact beyond their words. Prayers remind us of a better world…prayers provide a vision of how the world should and could be.

The days and weeks ahead will not be easy. Not for our soldiers, for our families, for Israelis, for any of us. There will be many more tears shed. We need your support. We need your help. We need your prayers. They sustain us, they give us hope."