Editor's note: Tensions flare in the Lebanese border as the fight rages in Gaza. The Iran-backed Hezbollah, solid in its support to the militant Palestinian group Hamas, has stepped up skirmishes with Israel since the 7 October sneak attack, posing threats of regional escalation and fears of a second Lebanon war. Here, a Filipino recounts working in Israel when Hezbollah attacked in 2006, a government bent to protect its citizens and the kindness of a peace-loving and God-fearing people undeserving of over 2000 years of violent antisemitism.

The weight of the news wasn't proportional to an otherwise casual Sunday.

The posh Israeli city of Sderot on the Internet, reduced to a forbidding kind of existence, scores dead at the wake of Hamas terrorists' indiscriminate rampage.

People were running like headless chickens; some inert and cold in cadaver bags.

I was still reeling from the tragedy in Kibbutz weeks ago, which I could only watch through the gap between my fingers.

Sderot lies on the border with Gaza and is accustomed to the sight of flying rockets.

Nothing could have prepared the city for this one.

I was in Israel for 16 years, working as a caregiver. I was there when the war broke out with Hezbollah.

I was first acquainted with the routine sound of a siren in 2006. Hezbollah fired rockets toward the northern part of Israel. I was overwhelmed by fear, wondering how my employer could keep it together and still manage to eat her cheese at a time like this.

"Couldn't that wait?"

Casually, she accompanied me to a nearby miklat (bunker).

My employer was then residing in Holiday Inn in Carmel Haifa, where the border of Israel and Lebanon beckons from the window.

I was constantly terrified the hotel could be hit by rockets.

But for the Israeli, it had become a procedure easily shrugged off. The siren rang but, among the people, it was as if there was nary a sign of imminent danger: No rushing to take cover in bomb shelters usually situated on every floor of the building.

Hezbollah would send rockets, the siren would go off, and Israel would intercept the threat with the iron dome.

I understand that the Israelis have strong faith in their government's sworn duty to protect them by all means.

Asked by some people in the Philippines why we still stuck it out in a land perceived fraught with danger, we simply reassured them of our safety in Israel. Israel has the IDF, the best soldiers in the world.

The dynamics of the skirmishes in our northern part of Israel is the same as that of the South then, in Gaza.

But the recent attack was so horribly bereft of reason and unprecedented in scale.

I cannot imagine how Hamas could possibly perpetrate atrocities against the gentle and meek people of Kibbutz, killing everyone who crossed their line of sight.

I can't imagine the suffering of innocent children and the elderly, the savtas and savas (grandparents), the sick and fragile, either pulled dead out of the rubble or agonizing over the disproportionate gravity of such death and destruction.

They are one of our own: The savas and savtas, the layladim chamudim (lovely children), who were helplessly killed to prove a point.

Those people who used to say "Shalom boker tov [Hello, good morning]" first thing in the morning every single day; the people who used to say "Mashlomech, eyk at margisha todaraba [How are you? How do you feel?]"—gone in a massive snap of a bomb.

And I'm certain the Romanians, Bulgarians, Americans, Polish, Russians, Moroccans, African Jewish and Arab Christians who lived among us in Israel would agree that we have the same sense of affinity with otherwise distant Israeli victims of Hamas.

I love listening to their stories, they are loving, kind and warm people, with incomparable regard for family and friends.

They love to celebrate life and their traditions. Israelis are loud, but they are generous and their kindness is unwavering.

They listened to my feelings and opinions without bases and prejudices.

After the pandemic, I returned home for good, grateful for wonderful experiences and indebted with their kindness.

My thoughts and prayers go out to our families in Israel.

As of press time, four Filipinos have been reported among the mounting death toll in Israel's war with Hamas, the latest being a caregiver likely killed on the fateful 7 October attack. One-hundred thirty-five Filipinos are stuck in Hamas-controlled Gaza. There are about 30,000 Filipinos in Israel, most work in caregiving, among other industries.