I’m sitting down to write this, and honestly, I can’t believe the time has come.
It feels like only yesterday we arrived in Colorado. At the same time, when I look back at everything we’ve experienced together, it feels like a lifetime. Nothing less.
Somewhere between miles on I-70, countless cups of coffee, difficult conversations, joyful celebrations, and unforgettable partnerships, Colorado taught me more than I ever imagined.
So, before I go, I wanted to share the lessons this community has left me with.
Belonging Happens When We Show Up
Shortly after the High Holidays and October 7, one of the earliest programs I launched was a traveling Israeli graffiti art workshop.
I drove across Colorado, meeting communities, sometimes for the first time.
At the time, I thought the goal was engagement.
Looking back, I realize the goal was belonging.
Over my time here, we created countless opportunities for people to find their place in Jewish life and in their relationship with Israel. Through Celebrate Israel, Mimouna, Shavuot celebrations, educational initiatives, and gatherings large and small, we brought people together around shared experiences.
But belonging is rarely created in the program itself. It is created in the moments that follow. In the relationships that form, the acts of care people choose to take, and the sense of responsibility they feel toward one another.
I saw it in projects that connected Colorado families with families in our partnership region and across Israel. I saw it in neighborhood gatherings that brought together Jewish and non-Jewish neighbors, in collaborative initiatives that united organizations around a shared purpose, and in the conversations that continued long after an event ended.
Just recently, I was at a Shabbat dinner with dear friends and was asked about one of my most memorable moments here in Colorado.
My answer came immediately: October 9.
Standing at Temple Emanuel alongside thousands of you, feeling the shock, grief, fear, and love that filled the room as we prayed together for Israel. In that moment, I understood why I was here. I saw the strength of this community and knew in my heart that I would never forget that feeling.
Over the years that followed, that feeling never really left.
We experienced some of the most difficult moments in our people’s recent history together. We gathered in grief, in solidarity, and in prayer. Through commemorations, hostage rallies, Yom HaZikaron ceremonies, and community gatherings following tragedies such as the June 1st Boulder attack and the murder of six hostages.
At the same time, we refused to allow crisis to be the only thing that defined our connection. The people we welcomed into our community, and the stories they shared, reminded us that alongside heartbreak there is resilience, alongside loss there is rebuilding, and alongside uncertainty there is still hope.
We welcomed Nova survivors, hostage family members, released captives, IDF soldiers, Jewish Agency leaders, and partners from Ramat HaNegev. We brought back Colorado’s former Shlichim for Celebrate Israel, connecting generations of community builders and strengthening a story that continues to evolve.
We launched Voices From Within, inviting voices from across Israeli society to share personal experiences rather than positions, stories rather than headlines.
Those conversations helped us understand not only what was happening in Israel, but how people were living through it, wrestling with it, and finding meaning within it.
From Aspen and Steamboat Springs to Telluride, Granby, Colorado Springs, and beyond, I had the privilege of witnessing a community that continued to invest in relationships.
What struck me most was that this community is not built on agreement.
Nor is it built on everyone processing events the same way.
It is built on showing up in one heart — a responsibility toward one another and a willingness to remain part of each other’s story.
Trust Creates Courage
Nothing could have prepared any of us for October 7.
There was no learning curve. No gradual introduction to the role.
One day, I was settling into a new position. The next day, Israel was at war.
Just weeks later, JEWISHcolorado leadership and staff trusted me — a brand-new Shlicha — to help build and lead solidarity and volunteer missions to Israel.
Looking back, that trust still amazes me.
There was no handbook. No precedent. No perfect plan.
Only a belief that showing up mattered.
Together, we built missions from scratch. Community members and leaders, young adults, volunteers, and JEWISHcolorado staff traveled to Israel during one of the most painful moments in our history.
For the first time since October 7, I returned to communities near my own home not as a tour guide, but as someone living the story alongside all of you.
We walked through devastated kibbutzim, met survivors, volunteered, listened, mourned, and witnessed resilience.
If I’m honest, at times it felt like being dropped at the base of a Colorado fourteener and being told, “Great, see you at the top.”
But I learned something important.
Courage rarely comes first.
Trust comes first.
Courage follows.
Dreams Need Spreadsheets Too
As an Israeli, I arrived with a healthy appreciation for flexibility.
JEWISHcolorado introduced me to something else entirely. Structure.
I mean — color-coded spreadsheets, strategic frameworks, planning documents, committees, workplans, and a level of organizational discipline that was entirely new to me.
At first, I was overwhelmed.
Then I learned how powerful structure can be when it serves a meaningful vision.
Together, we developed the IEC Committee to address the needs coming from our partners in Israel and created space for long-term thinking around Israel engagement and education. We created educator convenings across organizations, reimagined the Israel & Overseas Center, and established systems to support future Shlichim and ensure continuity and success for the Shlichut program.
One of the most important lessons I learned is that meaningful impact is not measured only by what we create. It is measured by what continues after we leave.
JEWISHcolorado taught me that vision without structure stays a dream.
Structure without vision becomes bureaucracy.
And the real magic happens when both work together.
I Came to Colorado Israeli. I Am Leaving Colorado Jewish.
While you have probably heard this from many Shlichim before, for me, this may be the most unexpected lesson of all.
Like many Israelis, I grew up with Judaism woven into everyday life. It shaped the calendar, the language, the culture, and the rhythm of the country. It was always present.
Colorado gave me the opportunity to encounter Judaism differently.
Through Shabbat tables that looked nothing alike yet felt familiar.
Through communities that practiced differently, prayed differently, and still felt connected by a shared story.
Through conversations about identity, tradition, peoplehood, and belonging.
Over time, I found myself embracing something I had always known but never fully claimed:
Judaism belongs to all of us.
Not to a denomination, institution, rabbi, movement, or country.
To us.
With that comes ownership.
Ownership of the questions of the traditions we preserve, of the new traditions we create.
Ownership of the story we choose to pass forward.
One of my favorite reminders of that comes every week when I listen to my daughter share her D’var Torah. Watching her engage with ideas that are thousands of years old and make them her own reminds me that Judaism has never survived through preservation alone. It survives because every generation participates in it.
Colorado didn’t change my Judaism.
It deepened my relationship with it.
For that, I will always be grateful.
What We Are Taking Home
One of the first Colorado quotes I learned came from a Nuggets game: “It’s not the altitude. It’s the attitude.”
At the time, I thought it was about basketball.
Turns out, it’s about life.
People often ask me what these past three years have been like.
My answer is usually: a constant search for “war-life balance.”
I don’t know if I ever fully figured it out.
But Colorado taught me a few things that helped along the way.
Put family first. Experience life fully. Be kind.
I had always known the phrase “family first.” Living here showed me what it looks like in practice. I came to admire how intentionally people make space for family. How family time is truly family time. How often friends become part of the family circle. And how, despite busy schedules, ambitious careers, and endless activities, nothing seems more important than your family. Over time, I found myself bringing some of those practices into my own family life.
And I gained so much because of it.
Without my family, and especially without Rotem, none of these lessons would have been possible.
And once family is at the center, life becomes something to experience together.
One of my favorite Colorado discoveries was realizing that people start planning their next adventure before the current one is over.
You return from the mountains and someone immediately asks, “Have you been to Telluride yet?”
You visit Telluride and someone asks, “But have you been in the fall?”
There is always another trail, another lake, another mountain, another place worth exploring.
Somehow, that mindset extends far beyond the outdoors.
Colorado is full of people who remain curious, open, and genuinely excited about what comes next.
And maybe that is what makes room for another Colorado quality I came to appreciate: kindness.
In Israel, we often talk about re’ut (רֵעוּת) — friendship, camaraderie, and mutual responsibility.
Colorado introduced me to another expression of that same value.
The everyday kind.
A meal dropped off without being asked, a check-in text message, the willingness to make space for someone else, the assumption that people deserve grace — and the reminder that I deserve some grace too.
That kind of kindness changes a community. And if I’m being completely honest, it changed me too.
—
If there is one thing I hope I leave with this community, it is this:
Stay in relationship with Israel.
Keep coming. Keep asking. Keep celebrating. Keep caring.
Fall in love, again and again, with its people, its diversity, its endless opinions, its incredible food, its breathtaking landscapes, its warm social life, and yes—even with its beautiful imperfections.
We are still writing the story of modern Israel every single day.
Please, keep writing it with us.
Very soon, you will welcome Yoav Maoz and his family as your next Shlichim. Open your hearts to them as you did to us. Trust them, challenge them, laugh with them, and let them become part of your story.
Because that is how this partnership continues—one relationship at a time.
As we prepare to leave Colorado, we do so with full hearts. We are taking home friendships, lessons, memories, and experiences that have shaped us for life.
I wish I could thank every single colleague, rabbi, director, partner, and friend by name, but the list would be dozens of pages long — and that’s the greatest gift of all.
Thank you for your trust.
Thank you for your friendship.
Thank you for allowing us to become part of your story and for making us feel that we truly belonged.
And please remember that you now have another family in Israel.
Our door will always be open for you.
(Literally — it’s a kibbutz. There are no keys.)
With appreciation, gratitude, and love,
Lehitraot (לְהִתְרָאוֹת),
Nelly