Writer D’vora M.B. shares a powerful reflection on faith and resilience amid two years of war in Israel, revealing how, even through fear and loss, her family and nation continue to hold on to hope in God.
On 13 October 2025, the whole nation of Israel stopped. We were told the 20 remaining living hostages would be released around 5am, so everyone woke up early, glued to the news, realising it would only be a few hours later that they would finally come home. Everywhere, people waited with one heart and spirit for our people to return.
With all the emotions of joy and tears, it is hard to grasp the last two years of war — to remember that every outing required calculation: how long will it take us to reach a shelter if a siren goes off? In some parts of Israel, it’s only 5-7 seconds; in others, less than ninety seconds. When I drive with my children, I constantly think: where will we go if a siren starts now?
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Personally, my role began to shift during the war. I am a wife and mother, I work full-time, and I am also a certified search and rescue volunteer. During the war, I was called to serve many times. It was difficult, as a mother, knowing that sirens were sounding constantly and that my hometown might be bombed while I was away from my children. That thought frightened me deeply.
At the beginning of the war, my daughter was only four. Each time I left, she would whisper to me, “Remember, Mummy, whenever we are afraid, we will trust in God.” When I came home from a shift, she would run to me saying, “Mummy, even during the sirens and bombings, I trusted in God.”
For two years, the sirens and bombings did not stopped. Sometimes they come daily; sometimes only every few weeks. But through it all, my family and I have continued to trust in God. If we were to die, we knew we would be in his hands, no matter what.
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The threats have not come from Gaza alone — we’ve faced rockets, ballistic missiles, and drones from Hamas, Hezbollah in the north, the Houthis in Yemen, and even Iran. There have also been terrorist infiltrations into Israel. One attack was deeply personal because it happened in my own hometown.
On 15 January 2024, two terrorists carried out an attack using cars and knives. They killed one elderly woman and wounded 18 others, including children. Within minutes, I received a message from my Municipality about the attack. Then another message from my children’s kindergarten — the terrorists were nearby, and the children were locked in the bomb shelter. Parents were told not to come; it was too dangerous.
As a mother of young children, I cannot describe the agony I felt.
As a mother of young children, I cannot describe the agony I felt. My children were in danger, and there was nothing I could do. I fell to my knees in the living room, crying out to God and praying, knowing my children were in His hands.
When it was finally safe, I rushed to the kindergarten. The teacher stopped me at the door and asked, “Do you know what your little girl did while we were hiding from the terrorists?” I shook my head, not knowing what to expect.
God has a heart for the people of Israel and Palestine… so we should too
She smiled and told me my daughter had begun singing a song, and soon was teaching it to the other girls. I asked, “What song?” The teacher began to sing: ‘The Keeper of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.’ (Psalm 121). In the midst of terror, my daughter was worshipping God and bringing comfort to others. If God could use my five-year-old daughter, how much more can he use me — or you?
This has been unlike any other war I have experienced. Being born and raised in Israel, I have lived through conflicts since I was two and a half years old. But the level of fear, pain, grief, and brokenness now is something I have never known. Every family in Israel has been affected. Our nation is heartbroken and traumatised.
There is one story from last year that still shakes me, but I am willing to share it. On 1 October 2024, during the second Iranian attack on Israel, I was called for search and rescue duty. On my way to drop off my children at my parents’ house, missiles began to fall — over 180 ballistic surface-to-surface missiles entered Israeli airspace. We were on the highway, with no shelter nearby.
I got out of the car, pulled my children out, and lay over them, using my body as a human shield. I have done this many times before, but this time it was very dangerous. I cried out to God for protection, quoting Scripture: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” I looked up and could see the glowing lights of missiles above us — at least twenty. One hit nearby, and from the impact of the explosion my daughter was slightly injured.
I called my sister, who was seven months pregnant, telling her I was trying to reach her house. Miraculously, my message went through despite phone outages. She left her children in the shelter and ran outside to help us, counting the seconds — only ninety before the next impact.
We reached each other, each grabbed a child, and ran inside, closing the shelter door. A second later — BOOM! — parts of the missile struck just one street away.
We reached each other, each grabbed a child, and ran inside, closing the shelter door. A second later — BOOM! — parts of the missile struck just one street away. Shrapnel rained down; the blast was strong. If we had still been outside, I might not be writing this article today. I give God all the glory. I am deeply grateful to be alive — and for my children’s lives too.
Recently, my daughter, now six, asked me a hard question. During yet another midnight siren, she whispered in the shelter, “Mummy, are the bombs from Hamas, Hezbollah, or Iran?” I said, “No, this time they’re from the Houthis in Yemen.”
She paused, then asked, “Why do so many people hate us and want us dead?”
I didn’t know how to answer, especially since it was so early in the morning and I hadn’t had my coffee yet. But then she said, “It’s okay, Mummy — God loves us.”
Even through tragedy, I have learned that all of God’s promises for my people, the people of Israel, are forever. His covenant does not change because of circumstances. God is God — the Creator of the universe and the God of Israel. What he promises, he fulfils. His love does not change, even in times of war and brokenness. You can still feel his love, even in the darkest times. And while a ceasefire may offer a moment of reprieve, we recognise that it could change in the future. Yet even in that uncertainty, his presence remains constant, and his promises endure.
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