There are moments when the sky feels particularly wide and clear here in northern Israel. The mountains that surround us look peaceful, the wind blows gently and the children play in the garden as usual.

But then there is this underlying tension that never completely disappears – the constant question that always hovers somewhere in the background: Will the war break out again?

Between peace and constant threat

Especially now, during a ceasefire with Iran, it is difficult to breathe. We live between two worlds: a world of peace, where the children go back to school and life somehow goes on, and a world of war, which could kick the door down again at any time. None of us knows how long this fragile peace will last.

We live between two worlds: a world of peace, where the children go back to school and life somehow goes on, and a world of war, which could kick the door down again at any time.

I wake up every morning and my first glance is at the news. The invisible threat hovers over us, and I ask myself every time: What if today is the day when everything changes? What if the ceasefire is just a brief respite?

The children go to school, they have their friends, they laugh, they learn. But I can’t completely take away the worries that go through my head at night. “What will happen if the war comes back?” Their eyes ask more than their words can say. And I’m not lying – I tell them that we will do everything we can to protect them, that we have a good life, here and now, and that we believe this moment of uncertainty won’t last forever. But inside me, I don’t know what the future really holds.
The doubt remains – how could it not?

I often ask myself how we can make plans for the future in such uncertainty. How do you imagine a long-term perspective when the only constant is uncertainty? It’s almost as if we are constantly living between two scenarios: the plan for a normal life and the constant question of what the next day will look like.

And yet, somehow, I also find comfort in it. Because what we have today is real. These moments with my children, the conversations with my husband, the laughter we share when we eat dinner together – that is my peace. Here and now. Despite everything.

Faith as support

Faith helps us to do this. Every morning when I send my children on their way, I say a silent prayer. And yes, there are doubts, even for me – how could you not have doubts in a situation like this? But my faith gives me strength, especially in this uncertainty.

I thank God for the security of the moment and ask him to guide us in the time ahead.

I remember the biblical promise: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope.”(Jeremiah 29:11) These words are my support. They remind me that even if the world around us is chaotic, God has a plan for us – a plan that is not determined by war and fear.

We never know what tomorrow will bring. But this faith, this hope that carries us through our everyday lives, helps us to keep going. We move on to the next event, to the next day – not with fear, but with the conviction that God will guide us through this time too. It is faith that keeps us going, that makes us strong in this time of transition between war and peace.