From the frontline to home: one mission ends, a bigger one begins

Cheryl writes home from the last day of AIC's 11-day relief mission to Israel — the people and places that stayed with the team, and how to join what comes next.

In this issue: Cheryl writes home from the last day of AIC's 11-day relief mission to Israel — the people and places that stayed with the team, and how to join what comes next.

As our plane takes off from Ben Gurion, I'm reflecting on the past 11 days — days that have tested us, lifted us, and changed us.

We packed in silence this morning. Not out of sadness, though we felt that too, but out of a kind of reverence. The fridge emptied, the car repacked, the keys returned. Yes, this is the end of the mission. It is not the end of the work.

Our shoes are coated in dust. Our arms are sore from lifting, hugging, schlepping, and serving. Our minds are full of names, images, and sounds we will not forget — nor do we want to. We didn't come to witness. We came to show up, to share your love, to stand in solidarity.

The work doesn't stop; it just changes form. There are soldiers still healing. There are families still displaced. There are still hostages in Gaza. There are students back in the U.S. being harassed, isolated, and threatened. There are events to plan, volunteers to train, letters to write, laws to change, narratives to reclaim. There is too much left to do to call this the end.

— Cheryl Dorchinsky, Executive Director

Eleven days on the ground — from a children's ward at Hadassah to a staging ground outside Rafah

We brought with us what you gave us: protein bars, tactical first-aid kits, hospital-grade bandages, baby wipes, toys, sunscreen, deodorant, snacks, electrolytes, extra socks, toothbrushes, handwritten cards, and an army of Kosher Ducks. We carried all of it into pediatric wards, field kitchens, trauma farms, rehab centers, border towns, and bomb shelters. We carried it because they need it.

We remember handing toys to children at Hadassah — bright-eyed, tired, grateful. Parents blinking back tears at the sight of something so simple: a duck with a kippah, a coloring book, a stranger who cares.

We remember the soldier in Judea, holding a hamburger and saying softly, “You have no idea how much this means.” We remember Matanya Farm — the smell of the soil, the firmness of Sendi's handshake, his gratitude spilling over in more languages than we speak. We remember the stillness at the Nova site, the silence behind the silence. We remember the wounded at Sheba: the empty pant legs, the voices filled with both pain and defiance, the quiet dignity in the way they greeted us. No pity, only purpose.

We remember the dusty staging ground outside Rafah. We hadn't planned to be there; we just brought the food where it was needed. Shlomi's food truck had been the destination — schnitzel stuffed into pitas, chopped veggies flying, wax paper packed in tight. But when Israel shifts, you shift with it. A caravan turned south toward the Egyptian border, and there a unit of IDF chayalim stepped out of Gaza: boots coated in powder-fine dirt, rifles still slung over shoulders, eyes sharp yet sunken. They hadn't eaten since the day before. We handed them warm schnitzel pitas and water, some of it still cold from our Airbnb freezer.

They didn't ask how or why. They just said thank you, again and again. One chayal told us, “I'll remember this pita for the rest of my life.” We know we will.

Here's what we're asking: join us in what comes next. Whether you're in Atlanta, New Jersey, or somewhere else, you're needed — and you're part of this.

Apply to volunteer. Tell us your time, skills, and passions, and we'll help you find a role that fits — helping plan the next relief mission, packing care kits, drafting a letter to your representative, writing curriculum, editing a web page, making phone calls, or simply showing up when it counts.

MITZVAHS THAT FLOAT

Fun at the airport, in Poland

A kosher duck made an airport a little more fun in Poland — a small surprise between gates. From airports to city parks, the ducks keep drifting into view, one duck at a time.