“The window is above the flat sukkah roof,” he reported. “I could definitely climb in, but I need a ladder...”
Needless to say, it was done and they formed a great relationship as his friend and mentor. He started attending services and volunteered his time all along putting on tefillin.
He took me to a room filled with computer equipment and said, “You pray here for as long as you want.” I couldn’t believe my ears.
An interview was overheard in which an Arab asked a Hamas commander: "What's the problem? Why aren't you hitting your targets? Don't you know how to aim?" To which he was answered: "We know how to aim very well. We are experts. But their G-d moves the missiles."
“But they told me to come in today,” she said. They gave me this date months ago. It’s not my fault if it’s the wrong day.”
The answers, though, were out there, waiting patiently and shimmering in the distance until the One with all the answers decided to enlighten us.
Edward was completely mystified, yet had no choice but to obey his captain’s orders.
It was found to be a giant deer tick living in her head – with its claws in her scalp.
While daydreaming about finding the perfect job, I never expected to be rewarded in spades for my aforementioned experience.
Our home is in the center of the Holy Land, surrounded by (what else?) green hills and valleys.
The simple act of kindness should be the reward itself. Anything more in the form of a reward is gravy.
Herman was speechless, yet the look in his eyes said it all. Indeed, his gratitude knew no bounds.
A few seats away, I noticed a man with a Mishnah in hand, talking intently into a cell phone. I soon realized the man was participating in a Daf Yomi shiur, utilizing his traveling time well.
It’s written, it says, with all the segulos for shalom bayis and you gave it as a gift to a chassan and kallah.
As I listed the litany of tragedies, as I perceived them, my mother responded by saying: “Who’s had a terrible life? I’ve had a wonderful life. I had your father for 40 years until he was taken from us. I had you and your brother. I lived to see grandchildren.”
Our son-in-law e-mailed tickets for us to print out and bring along to allow us admittance. Simple enough.
“Daddy,” I exclaimed, “Is this how you daven?” Daddy’s response was a hearty laugh. I felt so proud of myself.
There were two pokerfaced police officers standing at our door.
She always had a smile, and put her best foot forward – as hard as that might have been.
In fact, if the Mother of the Year Award featured a category for best worrier, I would be a major contender.
Put a coin in the Meir Baal Haness box every day and ask Reb Meir Baal Haness to find the lost kallah,” Ella told me.
In disbelief the doctors said it was not their doing but rather a true miracle that such a choleh could survive this illness.
I vowed that when I would grow up, I would speak Yiddish to my kinderlach and I would move to “a place called Crown Heights.”
Two husbands were there to instruct us in Texas hold ‘em – and we needed them.
As his bomber lost altitude with the ground rushing up, my father remembered his last thought: “How am I going to get out of this?