This week, the world witnessed something extraordinary: the moment when hope came home. The return of the living hostages brought tears, relief, and gratitude to Jewish communities around the world. It was not just a moment for the Jewish people, but also for humanity's belief in justice and compassion. For months, we have seen their faces on posters, whispered their names in prayer, and promised not to forget them. Now, as we watch families finally reunite with their loved ones, we are reminded that though the pain began on Simchat Torah, the resilience of the Jewish spirit has carried us from despair to hope.

That day, Simchat Torah was meant to be filled with joy, dancing, and celebration. Instead, it became a day of sorrow that shook our people around the world. Yet, from that darkness, something unbreakable emerged. We saw communities unite, strangers comfort one another, and Jewish teens everywhere stand tall in pride and solidarity. Even when the dancing stopped, our hope did not fade.

Ever since my city’s Run for Their Lives group started, I knew I needed to show up and do my part. I walked alongside people from my community to raise awareness and keep the hostages’ stories alive. At first, it felt like a small act, just a few of us gathering to hold posters and show that we cared. But over time, walking with the same group every week, the hostages almost became like family. We spoke about them, learned their names, and held their stories in our hearts.

As we waited for them to come home, it felt like they were coming home to us, too. Each step we took, each name we carried, connected us to thousands of others around the world doing the same. Even from miles away, we were part of something much greater. There were days when the walks felt heavy, the news was painful, and hope felt distant, but seeing familiar faces beside me reminded me that resilience isn’t just about enduring; it’s about showing up, again and again, for something bigger than ourselves.

Now, as I watch the hostages finally returning home, I think about all those Sunday mornings, all those prayers, and how they’ve led to this moment. It’s a feeling of pride, connection, and renewed faith in something greater than ourselves. But it’s also a reminder that our work isn’t done, as families still await the return of their murdered loved ones so their mourning can begin. We can’t stop caring, showing up, or believing.

In the end, hope isn’t just an emotion, it’s an action. From that Simchat Torah onward, we have learned that even in the darkest moments, our resilience carries us forward. As long as we walk, pray, and stand together, hope will always find its way home, and one day, we will dance again.