When I think of one of my favorite memories from my trip to Israel, I am swept back in time to the final leg of our lengthy flight from America to Israel . As we soared over the Mediterranean Sea, the flight attendants moved mechanically down the two aisles of the airplane, lifting all the window blinds — a sure sign that we would soon be landing. Situated in the back of the sparsely filled Israeli airplane, I anticipated our approaching arrival to Israel. After three layovers and what seemed like days of flying, a strange mixture of excitement and exhaustion swirled inside me. I was awestruck by the massive cumulus clouds, fluffy and as white as snow, that hid the sea beneath us as we bobbed through them. In my mind I could almost hear my little sister, Sharon, exclaiming over the magnificent clouds. Oh! How I missed my family already! Anxiously, I peered through the hazy window for the first sight of land. All of a sudden, the encumbering clouds parted, revealing my first glimpse of Israel. My eyes locked on the small strip of land, barely visible through the clouds, as it reached up and squeezed my heart. Tears of joy welled in my eyes as I, at long last, beheld the Promise Land.