Situated in the south of Jerusalem, the project benefits from one of the city’s most prestigious and desirable locales, nestled in a particularly attractive area between the Talpiot neighborhood and the green groves of Kibbutz Ramat Rachel.
The ringing of the phone awakens me on Sunday morning. “Hi Bracha, I’m sorry to inform you that Miriam is not doing well. She was just rushed to the hospital and is in critical condition. Please daven for her, thank you,” says her choked up mother on the other end.
I can hear the thumping of my heart, the beating slowly quickening its pace. I can feel the drop of sweat trickling down my face as the news slowly sinks in. I grab my Tehillim and cry with all my might to the Ribbono Shel Olam. Please Hashem, please have rachmanus on her. She’s just a young girl with a pure neshama.
My mother drives me to the hospital. I step in through those electric doors, still clutching my tehillim. I walk up to the main desk and shakily ask for Miriam’s room number. I feel like I’m in a nightmare that just won’t end. I can’t just wake up from it and forget about it. I can’t just hide under my covers until it seems like it is safe to come out. I must deal with this now. After all Miriam has done for me, I must do whatever I can to help her. I must daven to Hashem because during these times, times of crisis, sadness, and pain Hashem is with us and He wants to hear from us. I think back to when we were little girls, playing together with our dolls. I remember when we lost our first tooth together. The Shabbosos we spent together chatting about our week and telling jokes. Please Hashem, please don’t take that away from us. She brings smiles and joy to everyone around her. Please don’t take away such a good natured person from any of us. She does not deserve this sickness or having to lose everything at such a young age. Please Hashem, please save her and despite what the doctors say, cure her. Hashem, You could do anything, things that are incomprehensible. Please Hashem, have rachmanus on this sweet neshama.
Her mother steps out of the room with a wet face and red eyes, but a big smile spread across her face. She opens her arms and puts them around me.
“Everything is ok. Miriam is going to be fine. Thank you so much for helping her through this. I appreciate all that you have done for my daughter,” whispers her mother in my ear.
I enter the room and a red faced girl with tears and a smile greets me. I sit down on the bed next to her. We look into each other’s eyes and smile. I quickly grab her in my arms and give her a tight squeeze. Suddenly the tears begin to flow down my cheeks but they are not tears of sadness or worry. They are tears of happiness, relief, and thanks. Thanks to the Ribbono Shel Olam, Master of the Universe for hearing my cries. He has saved her and saved our friendship. He has saved a person who is not only a friend to me but a friend to everyone. We just sit there and hug, and allow those tears to roll down our cheeks.
About the Author: Malka B. Kirsh is in 10th grade at Bais Yaakov of Ramapo
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‘Double Gold’ awarded to 2012 Yarden Heights wine & 2011 Yarden Merlot Kela Single Vineyard.
One should not give the money before Purim morning or after sunset.
The mishloach manos of times gone by were sometimes simple and sometimes elaborate, but the main focus was on the preparation of the delicious food they contained.
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It captures the love of the Jewish soul as only Shlomo Hamelech could portray it – and as only Rabbi Miller could explain it.
Erudite and academic, drawing from ancient and modern sources, the book can be discussed at the Shabbos table as well as in kollel.
I’m here to sit next to you and help you through this Purim with three almost-too-easy mishloach manot ideas, all made with cost-conscious paper bags.
Kids want to be like their friends, and they want to give and get “normal” mishloach manos stocked with store-bought treats.
Whenever he did anything loving for me, I made a big deal about it.
“OMG, it’s so cute, you’re so cute, everything is so cute.”
I look into the flickering flames of the Shabbos candles and I am thankful for the warmth and light that emanates from them and illuminates our home.
The tear is rolling down my cheek. It lands atop my lips. I lick my lips to remove the dryness and the saltiness soaks into my tongue. I take a long deep breath and begin to think. Why? How could she do that to me? We’re best friends. We’ve known each other practically since we were born. How could she go and do such a horrible thing?
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/teens-twenties/tears-of-sadness-tears-of-joy/2013/05/31/
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