Our daughter from the West Coast surprised her sisters and delighted us by flying in for the weekend to join the festivities and meet her new nephew and niece.
When I sat down, this is what I was about to type. However, there in front of me, on the screen, was a post on our local community email forum stating: “Leaving for Har Nof at 5 p.m. Does anyone need a ride?”
It was getting late, the plane was set to take off soon, and the boy had no idea what to do.
Given that the fever had already passed – and getting the medication down my fussy baby’s throat would be a challenge of its own – I finally decided to wait it out.
“Literally a few moments ago, while we were driving, a young boy pushed the emergency exit door of the bus by mistake and he fell out,” the driver continued.
Imagine my joy when, last year, I received an email from Linda saying that she would be coming to Israel for the first time in the fall of 2018.
I reminded him that the government had recently changed the rules and an appointment was now required.
Eli believes in reincarnation and rectifying the soul and he believes with a hundred percent certainty that this whole episode was part of his tikkun.
Naftali nodded solemnly. He put the envelope in a safe place and Moshe left, hoping sincerely that he had left his treasure with the right person.
He was so embarrassed! Here he didn’t even belong in the business class section, and he had inadvertently made an elderly passenger with legitimate rights to the cabin uncomfortable.
This was the Sixties, and they shared the ideals of their adolescent children. Pro-civil liberties, anti-war – the epitome of unaffiliated, liberal Jews.
Our most recent attempt at sending two greeting cards to our children in the USA proved to be a comedy of errors if ever there was one.
They get on the bus and start explaining the situation, how long they've been waiting, how tired and stressed they are, how hard it is for everyone, especially the kids and the mothers with babies in their arms.
An outsider might expect that we would have moved out long ago, but we had put down roots there. We were educating our children there and it was where we intended to remain.
Hopefully this story will also strengthen our motivation to try to be mikarev a fellow Jew – even if it seems on the outside like it's a lost cause and there's no use in even trying.
It was the night of Motzei Shabbos before Rosh Hashana, and my husband and I were invited to a pidyon haben in Lawrence at...
Our daughter and son-in-law looked at each other for a second and then burst out laughing. They knew!
In Eretz Yisrael, it is customary not to remain in a house without a mezuzah for even one day. This placed the rav in a quandary. What were they to do?
Truth be told, my kavanah was often better in the privacy of my home.
The Hatzalah volunteers administered oxygen and got the family to the hospital. B’ezrat Hashem they will all be O.K.”
I endured a personal trial as I struggled to become a mother. In a community where just about every event is geared toward families, I felt the pain of not fitting in.
I never questioned why he insisted that we had to meet Naomi, and immediately acceded to his request. Yet when he had suggested that I write to the Lubavitcher Rebbe to ask for a bracha for children, I feared a negative response and refused.
Off my friend and I went to search for the skirt. After trying the regular racks, we decided to search the clearance rack, which was completely disorganized.
My son-in-law's parents live close by, so that was their first stop. But over a half-hour spent knocking with all their might yielded nothing but aching knuckles.
Rav Lieberman called the simcha hall to cancel their booking, but it wasn’t so simple to find another date at a suitable venue.