My husband and I have the travel bug. The moment we return home from a trip, we are already planning our next one. Our fridge is filled with souvenir magnets, bringing back happy memories every time I open the door. But except for a quick family visit to the US, we haven’t traveled abroad in four years. October 7 stripped me of the desire to go anywhere for a very long time. When the itch slowly returned, the time was never right. But recently, the stars seemed to align. The miluimnikim (reserve soldiers) were at home. Family members who were pregnant had safely given birth. The threat of war with Iran loomed, but in Israel, that is often the case. Most of the time, it remains just that: a threat. It was time to go.
My husband quickly booked flights and accommodations. “Strike while the iron is hot” was his motto. We shopped, packed, and were ready to roll.
Predictably, the situation dramatically escalated the day before our scheduled departure. Israeli strikes in Beirut were quickly followed by Iranian missiles launched toward Israel. The security situation continued to change over the course of the evening. The Home Front Command tightened restrictions nationwide, closing schools and limiting public activities. Even my office suggested everyone work from home. Israelis began preparing for another round.
I was relieved that our reservations could be canceled, and I was ready to do just that. But my husband did not feel the same way.
Our enemies were kind enough to let us sleep through the night. But at around 6 a.m., a siren sounded. Millions of Israelis were instructed to remain near protected spaces, and much of the country shifted into a wartime routine.
I wasn’t happy about this, but at least the situation provided me with clarity. It was obvious that, at that point, we would cancel. Better luck next time.
But not everyone thinks as I do. What was obvious to me was not obvious to others, including my husband. How could we enjoy a vacation knowing our family, friends, and country were taking shelter from missiles? This was exactly the scenario we had been trying to avoid for the past few years! My husband pointed out that nothing was certain. The entire affair could end by evening.
Our ride to the airport was uneventful, baruch Hashem. The airport was much less busy than usual, but many appeared unfazed by the situation and shared my husband’s mindset. Passengers ordered and ate their meals, sipping their coffee in the food court. Some casually shopped in duty-free.
As we were checking in, another siren rang out. Where do we go? An airport worker instructed all passengers to leave their suitcases and head to the stairwell. This was our introduction to an impromptu tour of parts of Ben Gurion Airport we had never seen. Some people stood in the stairwell, but airport personnel explained that this was not a sheltered space. They instructed us to go down the stairs: further down, keep going, don’t stop here. When we finally reached the bottom, we were told that this, too, was unsafe. We were ushered along the corridor: keep going, don’t stop here, go all the way to the end. By the time we finally reached a secure room, the event was basically over, and it was already time to come out.
There was serious concern about air travel. As we waited to board, the Security Cabinet met to discuss how to deal with the rapidly changing situation. They considered limiting both the number of outgoing flights and the number of passengers allowed in the terminal at once, and even discussed the possibility of closing the airport entirely. Until we actually took off, we did not know what would be. My phone buzzed with messages from concerned friends and family asking for updates.
In the end, we took off and were on our way. Shortly after we reached our destination, the crisis de-escalated. Israel and Iran agreed to halt strikes, at least temporarily, and the Home Front Command lifted most restrictions as of the next day. The school routine went back to normal.
When we left Israel, sirens were sounding, restrictions were tightening, and officials were debating aviation policy. Yet by the time we reached our destination, the standoff that had seemed capable of expanding into a major regional conflict was already winding down. My husband was right. Hashem can do anything. He can turn things around and save us from our enemies k’heref ayin — in the blink of an eye.
May Hashem swiftly save us from our enemies, and may we finally experience long-lasting peace.
Please continue to daven for peace in Eretz Yisrael, the recovery of the wounded, and the success and safe return of all soldiers and security personnel.
Suzie Steinberg, (nee Schapiro), CSW, is a native of Kew Gardens Hills and resident of Ramat Beit Shemesh who publishes articles regularly in various newspapers and magazines about life in general, and about life in Israel in particular. Her recently published children’s book titled Hashem is Always With Me can be purchased in local Judaica stores as well as online. Suzie can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. and would love to hear from you.
