To be sure, I was not alone. I asked my dear revered father, HaRav HaGoan HaTzaddik Avraham HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, to take me to all the great Torah luminaries of the generation for their berachah – their blessing.
Fortified with these blessings and with the strength and encouragement of my beloved husband, HaRav Meshulem HaLevi Jungreis, zt”l, I went forth. The doors opened. I spoke on every continent wherever Jews lived and Hashem granted me the awesome zechus – privilege – of rousing dormant Jewish hearts and souls.
And now, suddenly, I saw that flash of lightening. I wasn’t well. I wanted to run – to do what I’d always done – but I could not. My legs would not take me. My strength was just not there.
And then I heard strange, foreign sounds – doctors and nurses whispering to one another. I was in a hospital and needed emergency care and Hashem’s miraculous intervention. What to do? What to do?
I reached out for my book of Psalms but at that moment could not find it at my side. No matter, I consoled myself. I will recall the prayers – the Psalms I’d learned and recited day and night, the Psalms that were always on my lips.
So I did have my book – my heart became my Tehillim, my Psalms. I sailed the seas of my illness and my Tehillim saw me through.
* * * * *
I was once interviewed along with several others by one of our fine Torah magazines. We were asked, “What is the most important item you take when you travel throughout the world?”
Those of us being interviewed were travelers. Our journeys took us wherever Jews lived. Each of us went with his or her own mission and we all had had a different answer, a different gift we would never dare leave behind. For me it was my Tehillim – my Book of Psalms.
The Psalms are amazing. They speak to each of us in the language of our hearts. They can pierce the deepest crevices of the neshamah, the soul, and penetrate the depths of the mind.
If you make the Psalms a part of your daily life, you are never alone. The book may not physically be at your side but it doesn’t matter. The Psalms are forever engraved on your soul, on your heart, and on your mind.
At any rate, I found myself in a predicament I never thought I would experience – although, as noted above, I learned a long time ago that there are no guarantees. None of us can dare be too confident. But here I was, and my constant companion – the book I always took with me on every journey – was nowhere to be found.
The physical, printed book may not have been there but the book in its essence was there. And it spoke to me. I began to recite the Psalms as I remembered them. They were my best friends. No matter where life’s journey had taken me, those Psalms never left me.
I kept reciting those holy words and repeating the passages one after another. How grateful I was that those Psalms had become such an integral part of my being that no one could ever take from me.
Time passed and I started to take a few steps toward recovery. I had to make decisions. Should I go public with my ordeal or should I keep it private? I discovered that this is a dilemma confronted by many people who go through an illness.
If I go public, I thought to myself, people will assail me with question after question: Rebbetzin, what happened? When? How? Where? I was not prepared for that.
