The first time I decided to take the yellow ribbons outside was on January 31st—Tal Shoham’s 39th birthday. Tal’s family chose to bring SOS’s animal adoption day to ‘Hostage Square’ in his honor. Tal loves animals and has always been passionate about doing good. When I saw the ad for the event, I felt a strong urge to be there. I wanted to make something special for the sweet dogs waiting to find their forever homes—something that would carry a message of hope and solidarity. With just a week until Tal’s birthday, I started crocheting. By the day of the event, I had made about 40 yellow ribbon collars. It wasn’t my first time at Hostage Square, but it was the first time I felt like being there truly mattered. It mattered to the families who were there, and it mattered to me—to show up, to stand with them, and simply be there. When I arrived, I hoped to stay invisible. I quietly walked around, putting the ribbons on the shelter dogs. The volunteers were touched, though we didn’t exchange many words. After every dog had a ribbon, I ventured further into the square, careful to avoid being caught on camera. I stopped by the tent representing Kibbutz Be’eri, where I met an extraordinary woman. She was serene, compassionate, and eloquent as she patiently explained to visitors—likely for the millionth time—what had happened to her community, what they knew, and what they didn’t. She must have noticed me earlier, walking around with the ribbons. She asked, “What were you handing out?” I explained that I had been making the collars to distract myself from my own anxieties, to feel like I was doing something—anything. I pulled one out to show her. As she took it in her hands, tears welled up in her eyes. She said, “Can I have this? My dog survived that day, and it would mean so much to put this on him.” I was stunned but quickly said, “Of course.” I then asked if there were other dogs she wanted ribbons for and emptied the rest of my bag onto the table—about 15 in total. She stepped out from behind the table and asked if she could give me a hug. We hugged, and we cried together. In that moment, I realized that what I was doing wasn’t just for me anymore. It had become a mission—a mission to amplify the voices of those who couldn’t speak, to stand in solidarity with the families fighting for their loved ones, and to give others a way to join the fight. Since then, I’ve met the most incredible people—the strongest, the bravest, the kindest, and the most inspiring. I’ve met the dogs—those who survived, those who fight alongside us, those who heal us, and those who are still waiting. Waiting. So, I started posting every day on social media, counting the days and sharing stories of our best friends who help us navigate this unimaginable, uncertain time. What began in Tel Aviv grew beyond Israel, reaching people around the world. Today, talented women from other countries have joined us in knitting yellow ribbons and spreading hope. We will not stop making yellow ribbons until all of our loved ones return home—safe, sound, and reunited with their families. But we’re also expanding. We’re launching new projects, and we’re excited about the future. Our mission remains the same: spreading hope. That’s our slogan and our goal. It might sound cheesy—we embrace it. Because without hope, what do we have? And with hope, we can do anything. Together.