We were fortunate to start our trip home. What a thrill to call the insurance company and advise them, “Please cancel my service call.”
Even after all of the medical procedures, both Chaya and Daniel were left with medical problems.
The entire process seemed inexplicably doomed from the start; it was a proverbial comedy of errors if ever there was one.
Even if the cash was lost, it would still save endless hours of paperwork, phone calls, and visits to government offices to have all her documents returned.
It was not easy for any of them. According to Yitzhak, their lifeline was the books and letters that came from Jews in America and Western Europe.
Because Yaacov had been waiting a very long time for a kidney but no suitable one had been found until then, Rabbi Hager told him that yes, he should do the transplant.
My mind was now racing as I decided that, to save time, as soon as we got to the Delta entrance at the airport, I would jump out of the car and run. That’s what I actually did.
I heard this amazing true story from Rabbi Yitzchak Fanger who heard it from Rabbi Yosef Levi.* Rabbi Levi regularly visits Jewish prisoners in...
We couldn’t believe it when she told us where Chana was staying and that it was only two blocks away from her.
The receptionist, who was familiar with my story, said that they had not been able to retrieve my phone that morning.
“I have no words to thank you,” Marcus stammered. “But, would you mind if I ask you a question? Why did you decide to bend over backwards to help me?”
G-d, in his mercy, will send you little gift-wrapped signs.
The pans of blondies had suffered minor volcanic eruptions, and chocolate chip-flecked batter hung like drapes around every side.
Then she dangled the bait in front of me: “If I pay for you to buy a gown, would that help?” Well, I guess a little bribery never hurt.
We’ve met the most wonderful, caring people who have helped us and Eli weather this draining challenge.
I didn’t see a solution to my housing needs forthcoming. Instead of getting down, I strengthened myself with the thought that “other people manage to find a place to live, and so will I.”
The soldiers milling around were silent, staring into the distance as if willing the ambulance to arrive faster.
David was surprised at the downright refusal, but he didn’t lose hope. He set out to another vendor and another vendor and another…
“C’mon, Abba, do me a favor and stop saying, ‘That’s all I need...’ Look at me: I’m healthy and happy. It’s a mitzvah to be happy. Be happy, Abba.”
As it turned out, the apartment had been a bit neglected and needed some work to clean it out and spruce it up. That had been the reason for its vacancy.
If I had had the chutzpah which I now possess, I would have loudly protested and demanded equal rights. Since I was a 15-year-old, well behaved student I obeyed him.
When I worked in a community organization many years ago and the folks that I was attempting to assist were rude, I could hear Mommie saying: “There is no excuse for bad manners!”
To my surprise, she thanked me again for the chizuk that I had given to her. Her comment somewhat assuaged the feeling of disappointment that I felt for having lost touch with her for so long.
Here and there, we saw a few men and boys. I still had my heart set on having a minyan. But how?
We all said our goodbyes and exchanged lots of hugs and best wishes before heading to bed the night before her flight, just in case we would not wake up in time to see her off. Better too many hugs than too few…
When the Nazis began their hunt of on October 1, Rosh Hashana night, most Jews were already hiding in fishing villages along the coast.
It seems, though, that The One Above recently ensured that I was compensated for the time I have spent picking up students over the years and taking them to school.
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?”
Where was little Yair? We searched the area and asked others if they had seen him. No one had seen him go off on his own.