It's time to head home ...
Fifty-four years Israel has been in my heart and my life. these last 2 weeks I have experienced an Israel that I never imagined.
Every day is a new story, a new person sharing their pain, a new request for help, a new stranger that instantly becomes a friend. Each evening our small group sat together or texted on our WhatsApp group, "What are we doing tomorrow?" "Who have we not helped?" "What is the weather like to know if it's inside or outside?" I imagine it's similar to an ER - triage of where to turn first. However, there is no end in sight ... as of now!
While most of our small group has returned home, a few of us are wrapping up our 2 weeks (while one more is staying on a few additional days). As we look back at miles and miles walked, 4:30 am wake-up calls to work the farms in the south, and visits to pharmacies to get cures for all of our colds and sicknesses we realize what a special, difficult, emotional journey it's been for us all. The fact that we had each other to share it with made it so very special.
A few last pictures and a special finale of cooking for soldiers.
I will simply say THANK YOU on behalf of Israel ... every word of support means the world to them.
Enjoying a Saturday walk along the beach. People are trying to feel a sense of "normal" during the most trying of times!
Everywhere you walk ... memorials
Stopping to enjoy the stunning sunset from our rooftop at the hostel!
Time to start the shopping for the bbq for the soldiers - first stop MEAT!
Into the factory ...
Let the cooking begin!
We have become professional salad choppers!
Nice to get to meet these guys, hear their stories and be able to say thank you!
A very special thank you from the guys to me and the other ladies for the support! We were all given sweatshirts to remember them and as a thank you!
We came together as strangers and left as friends!
Now a few pics of some of the amazing women who joined me on a leap of faith.
Forever grateful!
As always ... praying for peace!
The most striking thing about this post is how it resists the temptation to turn volunteering into a story about the volunteers. There is no heroics here — just the WhatsApp group at night figuring out the next day, the 4:30 a.m. alarm for the farms, the shared colds, the pharmacies, the miles walked. The author lets the work itself carry the weight, and that restraint is what makes the post genuinely moving. The line comparing the days to an ER triage — no end in sight, just a constant stream of needs — is the honest heart of the piece: this is what sustained effort under pressure actually looks like, and it is not glamorous. The captioned photos buil…
What this post does better than most first-person accounts of volunteering is show the mechanics of the work — the unglamorous daily decisions that make a two-week trip actually useful. The WhatsApp group functioning as a live triage board, the 4:30 a.m. wake-up calls for the farms in the south, the pharmacy visits for the colds the group caught along the way, the constant negotiation of who needs help next. None of it reads like a highlight reel. It reads like the real thing: exhausting, improvised, and sustained only by the people doing it together. The author's comparison to an ER is not dramatic licence; it is the most accurate description of volunteer logistics under wartime pressure I have read…
The detail that got me is the WhatsApp group at the end of each day: "What are we doing tomorrow?" "Who have we not helped?" "What is the weather like to know if it's inside or outside?" That last question is so specific it could only come from real experience — volunteers organizing around the weather, the farms, the pharmacies, the soldiers. The author compares it to an ER triage, and it is exactly right: no end in sight, just an endless stream of needs and the constant question of where to turn first. Reading it, you understand why the group stayed together — when the work is this overwhelming, the only thing that holds is each other. The photo…
This is the kind of post that stays with you long after you close the page, because it never tries to be heroic — it just describes the days as they happened. The 4:30 a.m. wake-up calls to work the farms in the south, the pharmacy runs for colds and sicknesses, the evening WhatsApp triage of "who have we not helped" and "what is the weather like to know if it's inside or outside" — that last detail especially, because it is exactly how a small group of volunteers would actually plan a day in a war zone. The comparison to an ER triage is the most honest line in the piece: no end in sight, just a constant stream…
Thank you for bringing light to our brothers and sisters in the best way.