I come to Sundays knowing that it’s the day I blog, the day I post something that I hope will resonate with someone else, perhaps even provide something of value, fleeting or not. The words come from my heart, my history and, of course, my reality.

Today I sit with only an ache in my heart and worry filling my thoughts. Perhaps you feel the same. Perhaps you, like me, find tears in your eyes over and over—tears of grief and pain and such sorrow. What is happening in Israel is horrific and I, as I am sure many others, am finding this all consuming.

My social media feed is filled with shared posts of missing loved ones, who have been kidnapped in the most shocking of circumstances. Young people, frail elderly, children—all stolen from their lives to be used as bargaining chips or human shields or worse.

In just over two weeks I would have been taking a 10-day trip to Israel, with elders and staff. Several of these elders are over 90 years of age, one is a Holocaust survivor. For me, this would have been the 6th time I have orchestrated such a Mission, feeling it a privilege to help elders live their dream of being in the Jewish homeland.

I have watched as fragile elders stood at the Kotel (the Western Wall), tears on their faces as they felt the power in this sacred space. I have seen their faces as we stood on the top of Masada and heard the stories of battle and sacrifice. I have reveled in the sound of their laughter as they floated in the Dead Sea.

I can do no more today that pray and hope. I can do no more than believe in the strength of Israel as a nation and the Israelis as a people. I stand for Israel, I stand in solidarity, I hold this thought and this commitment in my full heart.