Debbie Evans

The moment we landed at Ben Gurion, history was unfolding. Three women hostages were being released to the IDF.  Walking through the airport, a few things struck me. The overwhelming sadness of passing by the photos of the hostages. It has been more than a year, and the majority are still there. The conflicting emotions—joy for the release of three women and the harsh reality that 98 hostages remain in Gaza. I knew returning to Israel would be meaningful, but I didn’t fully grasp how much this second trip would impact me. 

My first visit last January was driven by a need to bear witness to the atrocities of October 7th. Now, I am here to understand how the people of Israel are coping with the trauma and grief more than a year later—and to try to comprehend the struggles they face moving forward. 

Returning to Nir Oz 

I wasn’t sure I needed to see Nir Oz again. The devastating images are seared into my mind. I was wrong. 

Last year, as we walked through the kibbutz with Chen—a leader and resident of Nir Oz—we were overwhelmed by the sheer destruction, devastation, and loss.  Yet, there were still echoes of life before October 7th—the sukkahs still stood, the trees were in bloom, personal belongings lay scattered frozen in time. 

This year, the colors had faded. The air felt heavier with ash and soot. Nir Oz was no longer a home- it has become more like a memorial. I understood completely why so many young families feel they cannot return. 

This time, we walked with the beautiful sisters, Corinne and Amit. They shared their experiences from that dreadful day and showed us where their brother Johnny had lived with his wife and young children. They were all murdered. We stood in the place where their laughter once echoed, where life had once been full. Now, only silence remained. The weight of their loss was unbearable, yet Corinne and Amit carried it with grace, determined to keep their family’s memory alive. 

Last year, we were just getting to know Nir Oz and its story. This year, it felt like family. The bond between our community and theirs is deep and heartfelt. 

Leaving Nir Oz, with its echoes of both life and loss, we traveled to Kiryat Gat, where the survivors are trying to heal and move forward.  I was especially excited to see Yossi, who had shared his story with us last year, and to have dinner with him, his wife, and children, along with another family. 

Before dinner, we heard from Neeli and Shani, two women who had been freed in the first hostage exchange. Their words were powerful and moving. They are full of life, yet filled with guilt. Corinne and Amit helped us understand that while people have learned to function, they still feel shattered inside. 

They continue to struggle with many haunting questions. They had always reassured their children that they were safe, that the army would come. But now, how can they look into their children’s eyes and say those words again? 

The Complexity of It All 

There is so much unity among us—and there are deeply painful conflicts tearing Israeli society apart. There is so much to be grateful for—and so much to be angry about. There is so much hope—and so much grief. 

The depth of emotions was hard to process. Repeating to myself that two things can be true at once was the only way to reconcile all the conflicts I felt. 

It’s hard to leave. 

I can’t wait to go back. 

Bearing witness matters.  If you have the chance to go, don’t hesitate. Go. See. Listen. Remember.