Motherhood in a Land of Heart and Hardship

Mother’s Day has always been a tender moment for me — a day to pause, to breathe, and to thank God for the privilege of being a mother. But living and raising children in Israel has shaped my understanding of motherhood in ways I never expected. It has tested my heart, deepened my faith, and shown me firsthand that love is stronger than fear.

When I think about being a mother in Israel, I often think about the contrasts between the Holy Land and the United States, where I grew up. In America, childhood felt wide and open. There was space to run, to dream, to grow without the constant sense of danger. Here in Israel, childhood is beautiful too — full of community, purpose, and a deep sense of belonging — but too often it’s shadowed by realities that no parent would wish upon their child.

In Israel, our children grow up hearing sirens. They grow up always knowing where the nearest shelter is. They grow up understanding words like “terror,” “war,” and “threat” far earlier than any child should.

And yet, they also grow up with something extraordinary: a profound sense of identity, courage, and hope. Israeli children know they are part of a story bigger than themselves. They know they are rooted in a land that has seen miracles. And they know that even in uncertainty, God is nearby.

This year, Mother’s Day feels especially emotional for me because my daughter, Meyora, is serving in the IDF. I am so proud of her — proud of her strength, her conviction, and her willingness to protect our people. But I would be lying if I said it was easy.

Every mother of a soldier carries a quiet ache. You learn to live with the worry. You learn to pray with more urgency. You learn to trust God in ways you never imagined.

When Iran launched its attacks on Israel, my first instinct was not political or strategic — it was maternal. Where is my daughter? Is she safe? Is she afraid? These are the questions that weigh on a mother’s heart, even as she stands tall and speaks words of faith.

But here is what I have learned: love does not weaken us. It strengthens us. It gives us the courage to face what we cannot control. It reminds us that fear does not get the final word.

Motherhood in Israel is not something we do alone. It is shared — between neighbors, between communities, between generations. When one mother worries, we all worry. When one mother celebrates, we all celebrate. And when one mother sends a child into the army, we all feel the sacrifice.

This unity is one of the greatest blessings of raising children in Israel. It is something I cherish deeply, and something I believe Americans understand as well — especially as the United States prepares to mark its 250th anniversary.

Both Israel and America are built on the belief that family matters. That freedom is worth protecting. That faith can guide a nation through its hardest moments.

These shared values bind us together. They remind us that motherhood — whether in Chicago or Jerusalem — is an act of courage, of hope, and of deep, abiding love.

This Mother’s Day, my heart is full. Full of gratitude for my children. Full of pride for my daughter in uniform. Full of awe for the mothers across Israel and America who wake up each day, choose faith over fear, and continue to build homes filled with warmth and light.

And I am full of gratitude for the Christian friends around the world who pray for our families, who stand with Israel, and who remind us that we are not alone.

Motherhood is never simple. But it is always holy. It is a partnership with God Himself — an invitation to nurture life, to shape the future, and to believe in redemption even when the world feels heavy.

This year, I pray that every mother — wherever she lives — feels God’s presence holding her, strengthening her, and reminding her that love is stronger than every hardship, every fear, and every dark night.

Happy Mother’s Day, from my heart to yours.