It never gets old. The excitement on the plane was palpable as we caught site of the coastline. Little did we know that we were on one of the last commercial flights to land at Ben Gurion Airport before the start of a regional war. Walking the long corridor of the entrance hall, I spotted a small sign, “Foreign Passports” to the right. I have a foreign passport, but it feels like home. I was there to visit my daughter who made aliyah last year and I was looking forward to Shabbat that evening in her new home.

The next morning, while making coffee, the sirens blared, signaling the start of the war, and I scrambled to download the Home Front Command app. My first thought, how is it to live in a country that has a Home Front Command app? That question was answered over the next 8 days of ballistic rocket gunfire, not only in Israel, but all over the Middle East, in what surely felt like the start of World War III.

To be honest, I didn’t know what to feel in those first few days of the war. Everyone was glued to the news but for the most part, unfazed, even as it became clear that we were facing a regional war. Such is the reality of living in Israel, though I was surprised how quickly my daughter and her partner, like most Israelis, carried on as usual. Personally, I vacillated between thoughts of ‘I’m in a war zone’ (negative) and ‘I’m in Israel’ (positive). It’s a dichotomy that cannot be explained but if you know, you know. During those 8 days in Israel, I slept like a baby every night, walked an average of 14,000 steps every day, visited friends and family, and ate the healthy, home-cooked meals of my ancestors. Purim was celebrated in backyards and parks. The food stores and pharmacies were full of people and of course, the ubiquitous coffee and pastry shops would not be shuttered by a few flying missiles.

I quickly learned the difference between a “mamad” and a “miklat.” If you’re fortunate, you have a mamad in your home and don’t have to run too far when the sirens blare in the middle of the night. Savta’s mamad is well equipped with a TV, water, cookies, canned hummus, and Bamba. Throughout the neighborhood handmade signs on lamp posts indicate the direction to the nearest public miklat. And inside the miklat? Nervous smiles, crying babies, and a multitude of languages chattering away. One afternoon I was stuck in a very small, very old miklat with pirates, princesses and Minnie Mouse — a Purim party disrupted, but only temporarily, as the revelers ran back to their loud music and barbeque as soon as the sirens stopped.

After a few days shops opened and the streets began to come alive again. I exchanged gratitude with the South African woman who owned a little English used book shop on the main street and ate falafel at the corner place where I’ve made the pilgrimage for felafel for 30 years. The malls and grocery stores are much bigger than I remember. Curly-haired children are running everywhere, growing up in the ever-present shadow of war. God bless them.

While I was Israel, only 1 or 2 rockets had made impact. As the war continues, there is more damage, more fatalities, more sadness and concern. I am back in the U.S. It was with mixed feelings that I left Israel after only 8 days. I had come to Israel with grand plans of visiting museums in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, shopping in shouks, attending a talk at the National Library of Israel, having coffee on Ben Yehuda. And the Wall. I had traveled 10,000 miles to Israel and would not be able to go to the Wall, the place where my soul meets my heart and I am at peace. ‘Disappointing’ doesn’t begin to describe it. And yet, I know I will return, as I always have. I left my daughter and her partner and friends and family, all of whom have made Israel their home and would never think of leaving.They embody the resilience and the hope of Jewish people everywhere.

There was a nervous tension in the air as I waited in line with other Americans at Ben Gurion airport for a 5 a.m. flight back to the U.S. The U.S. Embassy staff there were polite and well organized. It was the first time that El Al security didn’t grill me about where I learned Hebrew or which Jewish holidays I celebrate. The airport was completely empty as I walked to the gate. It was eerie. The joy that I had felt upon arriving was replaced with a combination of worry and resolve. Israel will prevail, I will return, and my daughter has made the right decision; she is home. As never before, after 8 days in Israel during wartime, I understood the strength, resilience, commitment and joy of the Jewish people. Am Yisrael chai.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)