In the past five weeks, my wife and I have received hundreds of messages checking in on us and sending love and prayers for our safety.

On Passover night, as I reflected on the past weeks and years, and on the future of our People and our Nation, I found myself thinking about many of these messages.

While many shared similar sentiments, each carried its own weight.

Messages from our community supporters and leaders, expressing pride in being part of this activist network. One supporter thanked our team for making it so tangible to impact and save lives in Israel.

Messages from classmates I haven’t seen in years, many not Jewish, reminding me that time has not changed their belief in our right to defend our families and our home.

Messages from our staff and board, filled with empathy and understanding, as we continue life-saving work while rushing into bomb shelters five to ten times a day with our two young sons.

Messages from other young parents asking which toys keep a two-year-old occupied in a shelter without waking a seven-week-old.

Message after message, filled with heart emojis and Israeli flags, lifting our spirits.

And then there were a few that made me stop, and often cry.

A voice note from a soldier driving home from Gaza, having received last-minute approval to spend the holiday with his wife and baby. His message carried pride in his service, exhaustion from over 500 days of reserves, and excitement to surprise his wife, who thought she would be alone for yet another holiday.

A phone call from a soldier operating in central Israel to thwart Iranian proxies. He thanked us, explaining that the Israel Friends night-vision reconnaissance drone has been keeping thousands safe each night. Then he asked, almost casually, when I was coming to visit and reminded me that if a missile barrage starts, I should cover my head.

A text from a soldier deep inside Lebanon, checking if I was safe for the holiday. Here is a man within 800 meters of a Hezbollah stronghold, yet concerned about my family’s safety. Careful not to ask for too much support for his unit because he wants others to receive help as well. A man whose first instinct is the safety of civilians far from the frontlines.

As I reflect during this holiday of freedom, I am struck by the immense love people have shown – for one another and for our country – in these challenging days. These are not easy days in terms of sleep or safety, but they are remarkably clear days in terms of pride: pride as a Jew, as an Israeli, and as someone who believes in a free world.

Yesterday, I watched with my son as an F-35 fighter jet crossed the sky. I thought of the thousands of men and women of the Israeli Air Force working around the clock, carrying out a mission of enormous consequence.

Today I wished an IDF Reservist Paratrooper a successful deployment to Lebanon.  His eyes were wide open when he said, “Kyle, we are starting to operate in areas that no Israeli has been in for 30+ years. They [Hezbollah and Iran] planned a tremendous attack against our country and civilians, and we are destroying this evil plan one kilometer at a time.  We can create a safety net in the north – we are already doing it.”

As we said goodbye, I recited a silent prayer for his safe return.

These days have shown me that even through exhaustion and uncertainty, we are a people defined by love, resilience, and responsibility, for one another and for the future we are building for our children.

I wish my friends and family; every soldier, security personnel, first responder, doctor, and nurse; every Jew, Israeli, and supporter of a free world, a beautiful and safe Passover.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)