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For two days I was stranded in Paphos, but everywhere I went – from the streets to the hotel to the Chabad House that opened its doors within hours – I met Israelis who had one goal: get back home. Not to safety. To Israel.

This afternoon, I finally did. On a tugboat.

Nine of us squeezed onto a vessel captained by Eli, a veteran Israeli sailor who didn’t ask questions – just took the wheel. Among us: a brother and sister who are farmers and grow flowers in the Arava. They’d been in Holland on a sales trip. The brother insisted on returning to report for reserves.

Another was a CEO from Karmiel. His company has 100 employees and global orders he’s now fighting to fulfill despite a country under fire. There was a woman – an energy worker – who left the Ivory Coast to come home, a high-tech investor who wanted to be back with his children and grandkids holed up at his house and two young men, fresh out of the army, who cut short their trip in the Philippines, coming under physical attacks in Greece and elsewhere because they spoke Hebrew.

No one asked if it was safe. But that’s not how Israelis think.

We are a people who run toward home, not away from it. Toward our families, our communities, our nation. Even in war.

That’s the difference. That’s what makes us who we are.

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