It’s just after 8:00pm in Israel and I am on an El Al flight to London. Delta cancelled all scheduled flights to/from Israel through October 31. So, I took the best option I could to get. From London, I should be home in Atlanta tomorrow evening.

I must confess though, my last three hours in Israel were even more stressful than the preceding three days. There were flight cancellations. Flights were oversold. Lines at the airport were so long that I was convinced I’d miss my flight altogether.

I finally got to the gate, boarded my plane, found my seat, and buckled up. Then I started to cry. Hard. I was feeling tremendous sadness and worry for Israel, deep guilt for leaving family and friends behind, terrified for my nephew in the north with his tank corps, but also selfish relief. The myriad of emotions are difficult to process.

My plane started to leave the gate, then stopped. A delay was announced. We started up again, then stopped again. Then there were loud booms overhead and I knew people around the country were in shelters again. I feared we’d return to the terminal. My heart pounded. I started to sweat. I held my breath as we sat on the runway. I felt like a sitting duck, awaiting slaughter.

Eventually, the engines started. We began to move. And then, we slowly took off and started to climb.

I looked out the window and saw Israel. Again, I started to cry. I am so afraid for everyone. I pray for everyone and the country to stay safe. I hope I’ll return in January, as planned, to kick off a new and better year.