It was the day after Christmas. As I sat in a comfortable leather chair in my hotel room my first morning in Israel, reading The New York Times on my iPad and sipping my Turkish coffee, I learned about the snow storm that covered my US hometown. I took it as a strong sign that I was meant to be in Israel. The ocean waves outside my window were moving quite quickly that morning, as the intermittent Tel Aviv sun brightened their white foam. All thoughts of global conflict receded as I enjoyed the familiar view outside the Carlton Tel Aviv Hotel on the Beach, always our home away from home for at least part of our stay in Israel.

The Tel Aviv Tayelet (promenade) was bursting with life. People of all ages were jogging, cycling, walking and dancing (I love that there is a section of the promenade where people can morph into ballroom dancers to the accompaniment of live music). At the same time, dogs were frolicking through the sand below the promenade. I looked forward to taking a walk with my husband later that day – just slipping into the crowd of people appreciating life.

We had come to Israel this particular week for the B’nei Mitzvah of our niece’s twin boys, Abe and Ben. There were 67 of us, I was told, who had come for the celebration. Though we weren’t all together the whole time, we did meet up at the Ein Gedi Hotel for the weekend, where we attended the B’nei Mitzvah service and listened to the boys exuberantly recite their Torah and Haftarah portions, traditionally recited by Bar-Mitzvah boys. At the lunch that followed, several people spoke, including David, the boys’ dad, who emphasized how meaningful it was for him and his wife, Malka, that this seminal event was held in Israel.

I remember vividly the moment when our Israeli cousin Dani, a few years our senior, asked to say something during Shabbat dinner. “You are our heroes,” he said, for coming to Israel at this point in time. It was, on the one hand, uncomfortable to be thanked for just........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)