by Jessica Lewis, Director of Marketing and Communications at Nature Israel

Western Negev Visit

We began the morning at a quiet overlook facing Gaza. Below us stretched a region still reeling from October 7, 2023, when Hamas terrorists crossed the border, murdering more than a thousand people and kidnapping hundreds. Many of the communities closest to us, kibbutzim and small towns just minutes from Gaza, were among the hardest hit. Families were killed in their homes. Whole communities were evacuated overnight.

We met with Yael, founding director of Gazelle Valley, and Inbal and Debbie from the Western Negev Cluster, a cooperative of municipalities representing nearly 300,000 residents. The cluster began years ago to share basic resources like waste management, but over time grew to include mental-health services, education, and environmental planning. After October 7, this model became a lifeline: it allowed communities to make decisions together, rooted in local voices rather than distant leadership. Every municipality opts in; nothing moves forward without shared commitment,

Rebuilding here isn’t imposed from the outside, but rather from within.

Inbal, an open-land planner, explained how the region sits along an ecological corridor, crossed daily by wildlife that does not know municipal lines or national borders. Two desert rivers flow here, including the Shikma, and yet desertification is steadily moving north. After October 7, organizations flooded in with big, dramatic proposals — tourist attractions, mega-developments, even an amusement park with a giant Ferris wheel. But when locals were asked what they wanted, the answer came back the same every time: open land. Agriculture. Space to breathe in nature. A return to what gave them a sense of home before the violence.

“The love of the people and the place is what gives me hope,” Inbal shared.

Because of climate change, SPNI was already working here before October 7 — but when the attacks happened, SPNI was the first organization to come south. While others required residents to travel to Jerusalem to make their voices heard, SPNI went directly to them. Residents pointed out trees that held family memories, places where children once played, patches of land tied to history and identity. Those conversations shaped SPNI’s first response. Together with community members, SPNI is now creating the Living Trail, a path of remembrance and renewal that winds through kibbutzim, towns, and nature. It tells a story not only of loss, but of resilience and belonging. As Rachel noted, one of the deepest wounds after October 7 was the feeling of abandonment. Healing began the moment SPNI showed up, and stayed, to rebuild side-by-side with the resilient people who refused to give up on their land.

Stop in Sderot

Our next stop was Sderot, a city often defined only by what it has endured. As David shared, “’There’s more to Gettysburg than the battle,’ and I think that’s true also for Sderot.” Before October 7, the city was a vibrant hub, a college with more than 13,000 students next door, and a Jewish Agency absorption center welcoming hundreds of olim from around the world.

After the attacks, hundreds of families, many from Sderot, lived in SPNI field schools. Entire extended families had nowhere else to go: no relatives in other cities, no money for hotels. SPNI welcomed them, including many Ethiopian families, providing not only beds, food, and laundry, but also activities for children so parents could rest. It was more than emergency shelter; it offered dignity, care, and stability at a moment of collapse. Much of this response was made possible through Nature Israel donors, whose support helped ensure families had a safe and compassionate place to land.

Remembering Rose Lubin

Our next stop was Kibbutz Sa’ad, where Rose Lubin, a lone soldier from Atlanta, was living on 10/7. Trip participant and board member Hugh Mainzer read aloud some words written by Rose’s father.

Rose was at Sa’ad on October 7. When the attacks began, she and her boyfriend volunteered to move toward the fighting. She was told she might not survive. Rose replied, “I understand, I’m coming.”

She helped guide paratroopers, assisted a helicopter landing under fire, saved the life of her boyfriend from bullets, and stayed on the front line late into the night. Hundreds of civilians found safety inside Kibbutz Sa’ad, and not a single resident was killed, a testament to her extraordinary courage, faith, and love.

Rose was later killed in Jerusalem on November 6, 2023. Today is November 6, 2025, two years to the day. Rose’s bravery saved lives, and her memory continues to be a source of strength for this community and for all who hear her story.

We are deeply grateful to Hugh and to Rose’s family for allowing us to carry her story with us today.

Nova Site and Burnt Car Cemetary

We continued on to the site of the Nova Music Festival and later to the nearby burnt-car cemetary. I don’t have the words to share with you about this part of the day. Standing where so many young people were murdered, kidnapped, and suffered unimaginable trauma, surrounded by the remnants of beautiful lives interrupted by terror, was overwhelmingly heavy. The same was true at the car cemetery, where the charred, twisted frames of the cars from 10/7 stood as quiet witnesses to that black Sabbath. It was deeply impactful and emotional, and I truly encourage you to come here yourself if you are able. Bearing witness is so important, and being physically present tells the story in a way nothing else can.

Lunch in Ofakim

In Ofakim, we were welcomed into the home of Osi, our host. She is religious but keeps a special emergency alert app, a habit formed years earlier when a rocket from Hamas landed at the entrance of her house and exploded underground. The news reported no injuries, but it didn’t capture the truth of the lingering trauma, the health complications from stress, the PTSD. Osi still keeps the rocket shell. In the weeks before October 7, she said she felt something wasn’t right. At 6:00 a.m. that morning, her alerts went off, even though it was Shabbat. Soon they learned that dozens of terrorists had entered Ofakim and were murdering people in the streets. Here, shelters are outside the house, leaving many vulnerable as they ran for safety, and many were killed.

Osi left Ofakim for a time after the attacks but eventually returned. She isn’t sure if she wants to stay, “I was born here, and this is my home, but I don’t feel safe anymore,” yet she still finds small moments that ground her. Sometimes she sits outside and listens to the birds in her garden.

Even here, in a place carrying so much pain, nature continues to offer what comfort it can.