The Blogs: Do They Know How Much We Love Them?

To every miluim couple in Israel,

I have a question I’ve been carrying in my heart for a long time.

Do you know how much we love you?

Do you know how much we admire you?

Do you know how many of us look at you and see the very best of this country?

Last night, I attended another miluim couples workshop with Galya from Jerusalem Taste Buds, and once again, I found myself fighting back tears.

Not because anyone shared a tragic story.

Not because anyone complained.

Quite the opposite.

At the end of the evening, Galya invited the participants to share a few words about their experience. One by one, they expressed gratitude for the opportunity to spend time together, connect with other couples, and enjoy an evening away from the pressures of everyday life.

As I listened, all I could think was:

Why are they thanking us?

This is the least we can do.

The least.

How do we ever repay people who repeatedly leave their homes, their spouses, their families, and their lives because our country needs them?

One participant shared that after returning home, it can take nearly two months to come out of “battle mode” and feel fully present again. Just as life begins to settle into a rhythm, another call-up may arrive, requiring them to make that transition all over again.

Listening to him, I found myself wondering how many times a person can be asked to reset their heart.

As I listened, I felt an overwhelming sense of hakarat hatov—the Jewish value of recognizing and appreciating the good that others do for us.

How could I not?

These are people who repeatedly put their lives on hold for the sake of the rest of us. They leave their homes, their spouses, their families, and their routines whenever they are called upon.

And yet they were the ones expressing gratitude.

I sat there thinking that we could spend a lifetime thanking them and still never fully repay what they give to this country.

And yet, what strikes me every time I meet these couples is not their sacrifice alone.

It is their joy.

Their simchat hachayim—a deep joy and appreciation for life.

I’ve attended several of these workshops now, and it never gets old. Every time I walk into the room, I leave feeling the same sense of awe and gratitude. No matter how many couples I meet, I am continually struck by their warmth, their humility, and their extraordinary love of life.

One couple prepared five different dishes for the evening. Five. Every single one delicious.

Another participant realized he was missing an ingredient and ran downstairs to buy it.

One gentleman stepped outside to gather fresh herbs from the garden for his pasta.

Nobody was doing the minimum.

Everyone brought their whole heart.

What amazes me every time is how much they genuinely enjoy being together. The room is filled with laughter, conversation, and connection. People who have never met before are suddenly sharing recipes, stories, and experiences. There is a warmth that is difficult to describe unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

Perhaps the most beautiful moment of the evening came when a participant asked if he could dedicate a song to his wife.

As the music began to play, he stood up and made the dedication.

It was simple.

It was sincere.

It was beautiful.

Watching her reaction, I could see how touched she was.

There was so much love between them.

For a moment, I wasn’t thinking about reserve duty, military service, or the challenges they face.

I was simply watching a husband honor the woman he loves.

And I thought to myself:

This is Israel too.

As I sat there listening to these couples thank everyone around them, I felt tears welling in my eyes.

All I wanted to do was stand up, hug every one of them, and tell them how much they mean to us.

How much we appreciate them.

How much we admire them.

How much we love them.

Not because they seek recognition.

Not because they expect gratitude.

But because they continue to carry burdens most of us will never fully understand and somehow still show up with humility, kindness, generosity, and joy.

As an olah chadasha, these evenings have become one of the greatest gifts Hashem has given me since arriving in Israel.

Had I not made aliyah, I never would have met these couples.

I never would have witnessed their resilience, their gratitude, their warmth, or their remarkable love of life.

For that, I owe a tremendous thank you to Galya.

Thank you for allowing me to volunteer alongside you.

Thank you for trusting me to be part of something so meaningful.

Thank you for creating opportunities for these couples to reconnect, laugh, and enjoy precious time together.

Thank you for opening a window into a world I otherwise never would have seen.

Recently, I heard Yemima Mizrachi ask what women should do when they have so much love to give.

Her answer was simple: spread it to your nation.

As I sat among these miluim couples, I understood exactly what she meant.

Somewhere between the laughter, the conversations, the cooking, and the gratitude, I found myself overwhelmed by how much appreciation I felt for the people in that room.

Not because I know them personally.

Not because they had asked for anything.

But because they represent something beautiful about this country.

And suddenly, all that love had somewhere to go.

People often talk about Israel’s military strength, its innovation, or its resilience.

While all of those things matter, I have come to believe that Israel’s greatest treasure is its people.

The world sees headlines.

I wish they could see these couples.

I wish they could spend one evening in that room.

They would see kindness.

They would see gratitude.

They would see strength without arrogance and sacrifice without complaint.