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Hi,
Anyone wants to share some Bituchin & emunah Stories…..
I am working on this middah & wanted some chizuk!
I chose to work on this cuz if you have emunah then automaticly you are a happy person, a person with no Kass, etc…. and people like happy people!
For Example if i am inmiddle of mopping the floor and s/o walks in i think to myself! (it’s bashert and this is what hashem wanted) then i wont get in to kass and Avoid fighting…
I must Admit what an easier life! people saw a change in me and asked me why i am so happy lately… Yes!! it’s only because of Emunah & Bituchin.
That i know hashem only wants whats best for US! so what is there to worry about!!!
V’hobteich B’hashem chesed chesed Yisovivenie!
Please share your stories where you saw in z’chus of emunah u got helped…
Thanks!
thats an amazing thing to work on its not easy to have bitachon all the time sometimes things look so bleak its hard to see the good in it but taking little steps really helps hashem will see you trying he will help you and with time it will become part of your nature
nice thing to work on! Props! I don’t have a specific story but so many times things have happened to me that are wayyyy too clear to be ignored, but of course emunah is also when lets say for example you hear someone is giving bad information about you in a shidduch!!
But like my father says, jus one less guy in the way of your bashert!
Gluk!
read “Garden of Emunah”
If you look for it, the yad HaShem is clear. And if you don’t look for it, you’re asking for trouble.
I have always had tremendous bitachon, but my bitachon was strengthened when my father passed away suddenly (follwoed five months later by my mom). I may have posted this already once, I have told this story over so often, I no longer remember who has read it, but here it is: The night my father had a fatal sroke, he and my mom were going to a Bar-Mitzvah seuda in Brooklyn. They had a wonderful time, and left the simcha at around 11 PM. After a couple of minutes ( as per my mom’s recounting of the events), my dad began driving very slowly. He seemed to not be so familiar with the road he was travelling, but continued to drive. The trip to Brooklyn and back to their home was one which he did every single day Sunday through Thursday, for all the years of their marriage, and he knew the road like the back of his hand. He continued to drive and wouldn’t respond to my mom’s question as to why he was driving so slowly. She didn’t question his silence, really, because when he drove at night, he often preferred to solely concentrate on the road and only spoke when he had to. It was almost 1 AM, when he pulled up in front of Beth David Cemetery in Long Island, where his family is buried. My mom, recognizing the location, asked him why he drove all the way to Elmont, that he must have missed the turn to their own neighborhood and continued to drive. She told him to turn the car around and go back int he right direction towards their home. Wordlessly, he did exactly as she said, and drove the car stopping at every red light and stop sign, (still very slowly) to their home, where he pulled into the driveway up to the area where he normally dropped her off before continuing to the back of the house to park. My mom tried to get my dad’s attention, but she realized that this was not his typical late night driving silence. She suddenly knew something was really, really wrong with him. It wasn’t that he simply was NOT speaking, he COULD not speak. He was paralyzed. His feet were not on either the gas pedal or the brake, but the car was not moving. She couldn’t even shut the engine of the car, because she didn’t drive.
She ran out of the car at 1:15 AM, pounded on her neighbor’s door, who came out took one look at my dad and called Hatzalah (this was 15 years ago, no one had cell phones). My mom called me also, and I got there at the same time as Hatzalah. Without going into many more details, the doctors told us later that my dad had such a massive cerebral accident (code for stroke), that they could not even measure his blood pressure – it was off the charts. Once the first blood vessel broke in his brain, they all went instantaneously, like dominoes. The stroke was over in a matter of seconds. They wanted to know how my mom got him home, because he could not possibly have been driving the car. They said that the stroke had started a couple of hours before, and once it started there was no stopping it. My mom explained that he DID drive the car, because she cannot drive, and they didn’t believe her. Kept saying it was physiologically impossible, based on the damage they had assessed that he could have been driving for at least the last hour of that two hour drive, that she must have subconsciously taken the wheel. Not having seen the car, the docs could not have known that this, too, would have been impossible, even had she wanted to do so and had known how to drive. Let them think what they wanted to think, my dad was niftar exactly 36 hours to the minute from the time I saw him in the car, clearly paralyzed. We know how they got home. It could only have been hashgocha protis, and Hashem sent a malach to take control of the wheel, or gave my wonderful father O”H the ability to drive, while brain dead. B”H, we did not lose BOTH parents that night. It was hard enough coming to the realization that he would not be getting better. Anyway, this is how Hashem gave me chizuk during the lowest point of my life, by showing me that HE absolutely is in control of everything in a way that none of us could ever deny.
oomis, thanks for sharing that story. I don’t think I’ve seen it before (and it’s not a story that’s easy to forget).
Believe me, Anon, it is something none of us will ever forget. The many rabbonim who came to be menachem aveilim, all told us what an amazing neis our family was zocheh to experience. It was very fitting, because my father O”H was a true baal chessed who as a chiropractor took care of his patients even when they had no insurance and could not pay him. We did not grow up wealthy, but we grew up having the two most wonderful role models to teach us how to be mekayeim mitzvos bein adam l’chavero.
There is more to the story of my dad’s petirah, regarding my mom’s my siblings’ and my experiences during the shiva week for him. But another time, perhaps…
Thank you, ames. It is an eye-opening experience, to say the least, when we actually are able to recognize that Hashem is with us, and not just give lip-service to that belief.
oomis1105: wow that is a great story, and it was really inspiring.
Always think of the Berochoh we say each morning shosoh lee kol tsorchi – if we are jealous of someone else’s property or success then we are contradicting the very berochoh we said a few hours prior.
We have to come to the realisation that the Abishter has given us all we need – if we do we will be happy.
The trick is to maximise your potential not yenem’s.
Thank You oomis for sharing that story with us it truly is unbelievable.
I am glad that the story about my dad O”H resonated with you. It still amazes me to this day that something so extremely sad for my family, is what strengthed our bitachon in Hashem’s tzidkus. When my mom, sibs, and I said the bracha of Baruch Dayan HaEmes, we truly had kavanah in saying it. It is not something I can explain in words – it was a tremendous feeling of connectedness to Hashem at that moment. It makes me emotional even as I recall it now. Above all, we thank Hashem that He spared us from losing both my parents at the same time, i.e. in a car accident as a result of his stroke. He gave us another five months with our mother O”H, and though it was not nearly enough time, it was a chessed.
oomis- your story is incredible. The beauty of it being that even during such a time in your life, you were able to see and be thankful for the hand of Hashem. I’m truly inspired. In what other religion can you find such deep, real faith?
Oomis, that story is amazing. Sometimes, its hard to remember on a day to day basis that Hashem controls everything. Thank you for sharing that. I am sorry you had to lose your parents in such a short span of time though.
Thank you for your kind words, SJS. I miss them both very much, especially now that I have two grandchildren kinehora, and my own children were the lights of their lives. I can only imagine the clothing my mom would have knitted or crocheted for my aineklach, or the songs their great-Zaydie would have sung to them (he was a chazzan and had a beautiful,sweet voice). It’s 15 years since my folks were niftar and it still feels like yesterday. But I thank Hashem for the bracha of having them for as long as we did.
A(not so)PushetaYid – thank you, but I am not amazing – my parents were, though. You want stories???? Boy oh boy do I have stories. The most amazing thing is they are all emes.
It is late at night right now, and I am B”EH babysitting my ainekel all day from early tomorrow morning, so I must get to bed. But when I next have a chance, I will post, for those who may be interested in reading this, the stories of the nissim which my father Z”L experienced during World War II (he was an army intelligence officer), as well as what we who sat shiva for him, collectively were zocheh to experience on the Shabbos of the shiva week. I mamesh feel that I have posted these things before, or else I am having a case of deja vu right now, but even if I did, the stories bear repetition, and also remind us who is truly fiering the world. Good night.
oomis- hows the einekel, giving you run for your money? we wanna hear more stories
Areivim – B”H my delicious ainekel gave us MORE than a run for our money. Both he and WE ended up snoozing this afternoon. Kinehora, he is a little honey, but two and a half is still two and a half 🙂 and i think I burned up enough calories to entitle me to some cheescake later… Thank you for asking.
Also, since you have asked, I am going to try to recount a little bit about my dad O”H, and the miracle that was his entire life. Warning, this is a bit lengthy. I did not know about some of the things that happened to him until I was an adult. He rarely spoke about his army life. There is also another frum man who experienced some similar things, and wrote a book about his army life (I think his name was Birnbaum), but my dad’s war experiences were never written down, though we have the primary sources for them, through aritifacts,etc.
For obvious reasons, I am not going to reveal any names in this post, except for people who are known to the world. My dad started off his life in a miracle. he was extremely premature, born to my grandfather a kohein and rov/shochet, and grandmother who was in the beginning of her 8th month. he was born on Purim and became a bar-Mitzvah on Shabbos Parshas Shemini, the parsha dealing with the induction of the Kohanim. The number 8 will feature prominently in his life,as you will see. The birth took place in a European village, where the only method of caring for a preemie of 2 and a half lbs. was to shecht a cow and put the newborn in its stomach (primitive form of incubator), to warm him up. My dad B”H survived his infancy, though he was small, so small that when his parents ran to America to escape the pogroms, which had already affected the family, he appeared to be much younger than he was, and was therefore allowd to leave with them.
He grew up here in the States and enlisted in the army, though a bit underage (don’t ask me how he managed that, I have no idea. We did not know until after his death what his real age was). because my dad spoke 13 languages fluently and with the proper accent, he was recruited to serve in teh Army Intelligence Corps,a nd sent undercover in Germany to walk amongst the German citizens and gather intel. he did his job so well that he was promoted to Lieutenant and assigned to capture a Nazi gauleiter who had given orders in his town to begin what came to be known as Kristallnacht. he went with a retinue of men, including a burly Irish sergeant, who developed a great affection and respect for this Jewish guy who never slacked off, though he lived on cans of tuna, sardines,vegetables,and fruits.
They went to the villa of the nazi and demanded entry. They found him cowering in the closet in his library, a room filled with portraits of the man and his wife and children, in pastoral outdoor scenes. As leader of the group, my dad began to interrogate the man before bringing him in, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his Irish sergeant was trying to break the nazi’s painting. Without going into the rightness or wrongness of doing that (the man wanted to give this nazi a taste of his own Kristallnacht), my dad stopped him and took a look at the painting, which didn’t tear when the glass broke. He took it out of its backing and turned it over, and in the next moment went berserk, as he realized the protrait had been painted on a Torah Klaf. If that were not enough, he was able to clearly read the section of Torah and realized it was his own Bar-Mitzvah Parsha, Parshas Shemini! As I said, the number 8 figured prominently in his life. He started pulling at all the paintints, and realized that two others were also painted over klafim, all three were from separate sifrei Torah. My extremely gentle dad, who could barely bring himself to potch us when we deserved it, began to pummel this nazi. His sergeant had never heard him raise his voice, much less display any violence, and he stopped him by saying, “Lieutenant, I’ve never seen you get so angry at anyone, so I know if you are this upset there’s a good reason. Let me take over, I’ve had more experience fighting and I’ll do a better job!” Of course, at this point, my dad had calmed down a bit, and they took the man into custody, where he was later tried at Nuremeberg. Meanwhile, my dad took custody of all three klafim, to safeguard them. The other two parshios were Pikudei and Acharei Mos. The fact of the matter is that all three of these parshas including his own of Shemini, are the Bar-mitzvah parshas of ALL of the grandsons in our family who have at least one grandparent (on the toher side of the family) who were Holocaust survivors. And although we do not celebrate Bas-Mitzvahs per se, had my two March-birthday daughters been sons, their Bar-Mitzvahs would also have been one of those parshas. In fact my youngest daughter turned bas mitzvah bo bayom on Shabbos Parshas Shemini, her Zaydy’s parsha. My mother, O”H was born on the Shabbos of Acharei Mos, and was nifteres on Shabbos Parshas Shemini.
My dad also had an experience that I was very happy to have not learned about until I was well into my adulthood. When he and five of his men went out on a mission in their jeep, the driver unfortunately went over a land-mine, blowing the jeep and its occupants to bits. All except for my father, who landed many yards away from the explosion, completely unhurt but for his clothing being in disarray. He described the incident as if he had been plucked out of the car and gently set down in the field. He was very fortunate not only to have survived, but to have been able to safely make it back to his camp without stepping on another landmine.
Last, but not least, the Great Synagogue of Frankfort had been turned into a stable by the Nazis. Then came the liberation, and it was coming close to Rosh Hashana time. My dad was involved in helping displaced persons, but when he saw how many frum Jews there were, he realized they were going to need a shul to daven in for yom tov. The Great Shul was in ruins, but he commandeered the Germans in the city who by now were so terrified of the Americans they did anything he asked of them. He got them to clean up the Shul, and they removed the theater seats from a local movie house, and brought them to the shul to make pews. Thus, the very Germans who had made a pigsty of a beautiful shul, were now forced to clean it up and bring it back to life.
My dad was also a chazzan with a beautiful voice, and as such he was asked to being the shaliach Tzibbur for the Great Synagogue when it was readied for the Yomim Noraim. Because of the magnitude of the work involved in getting the shul ready, it attracted a lot of attention from the higher ups in the army, and as a result Generals Dwight D. Eisenhower and (I believe it is) MacArthur were in the front pew. I have the picture of them, and it is a really historical bit of evidence. After the davening, General Eiswenhower came up to my dad and told him, ” Cantor, I really liked those pretty tunes you sang.” This too, I didn’t know until later in my life, before my dad died. he virtually never spoke about himself, with the exception of going from school to school and shul to shul talking about the story of the klafim that he rescued. This he did at around the time of Yom Hashoah every year. we had debated (my siblings and I) about donating the klafim to the Holocaust museum or Yad Vashem, but we have ultimately decided that we want to keep it as a part of our father, and eidus to what he did in the war.
There is one other story from the Great Synagogue, it actually happened when my dad was davening Unesaneh Tokef. He noticed on the side, that a man was completely encased in his tallis and sobbing bitterly. After the davening the man approached him for one second, and my father saw a living skeleton before him. Before he could ask the man anything, he quickly disappeared. My dad asked the Army Chaplain who was conducting the rest of the non davening services in the Great Synagogue, if he knew the man. The Rabbi told my father the man’s name and explained to him that this man had lost his entire family and was given the gruesome task of shoveling gassed bodies onto the trucks going to the crematoria. He did this job devoid of all feeling, until the moment when he realized he had just shoveled his own daughter’s body onto the truck, and he convinced himelf that he had seen eher hand move as the truck drove away. He wanted to kill himself, but somehow managed to simply exist until the liberation. My dad never saw him again during that time.
Fast forward a decade or so. My dad married my mom, and was busy raising a family in Brooklyn. We davened in a little shul in East New York, and my dad waas often asked to daven for the omud. One Shabbos mevarchim after being shaliach tzibbur for mussaf, someone came up to my dad and said good shabbos. My dad smiled at him and replied in kind. The man asked him if he knew him. My dad said he looked familiar but couldn’t place him. The man said to him, “You don’t know me, but I know YOU!” And he proceeded to remind my father of the half-dead man whom he had encountered in the Great Synagogue that fateful night. He told him his name, and it was the very man whom my father remembered from that time. He explained to him that at the end of the war, when he realized exactly what he had lost, his wife, his children, his health, his hope for the future, he had really despaired that he would ever be able to live again. “Then, “he said, ” I heard your beautiful Unesaneh Tokef, and I realized there was something the nazis had not been able to ever take from us. Your voice and words of the machzor gave mea reason to live, that I knew there was hope for the Jewish people. we were not destroyed, and the Aibeshter would never let them get us. I prayed all these years to hear that beautiful voice again, and The Ribbono Shel Olam answered my prayers.” He had come to America after the war and started his life over, married again and raised a new family. People in our Shul in those years used to talk about this as they met the man,but I never knew what they meant until I was older.
I really apologize for going on and on. I actually gave you the capsule summary. I have often been told that our family should write a book about this, but without my dad or any of the family members who were alive then, to enhance my meager knowledge of what happened, it is only half a story. We have the klafim to stand in eidus for my dad, and it is in my brother’s possession. But all the principal characters in the story have died, as far as we know. I do enjoy looking at the picture of Eisenhower and MacArthur, in the front row of the shul, though. Eisenhower was a very dignified looking man, and he was very respectful of the Shul and the Jews in it, at that time, by all accounts.
oomis,
Thanks for sharing those amazing stories. I agree with what ames wrote about you also.
You’re very kind, ames. Thank you. I have always been proud of my father Z”L, and my mother as well, because of the incredible chessed I was zoche to see them show people since my early childhood. The rest of the stuff I found out as an adult. My dad was an anav, and always downplayed is actions. We found things out about him after he was niftar. All these things were a tremendous nechama to all of us.
“May Hashem all give us Koach in these hard gulles days And may we hear the shoffer shel moshiach really quickly!! We know he is really close!!! 🙂 🙂 🙂 “
Amein, amein, amein! Thank you, APYid, ames,anon for this for your thoughtful comments.
I like to think I am a nice person, though no more special than any other nice person, and I have never done in my life anything on the scale of what my parents did. But I do recognize that Hashem blessed me with a wonderful family, and to be honest, that is what gave my siblings and me the strength to sit shiva and conduct ourselves in a way that we hope makes our parents proud.
oomis- your post was so long i decided to print it & read it at home. I had my mouth hanging open throughout, with chills running up and down. Thank you so much for sharing
Oomis, what a zechus to grow up with such amazing parents! I am sure that your children think the same about you.
I undestand what you mean about 15 years feeling like yesterday. My father died 20 years ago. When my son was born (and named after him), it made me so sad that he couldn’t be a part of my son’s life. I am so much more sad for my son than I am for the fact that I grew up (for the most part) without him. He was an amazing person.
Always remember that you parents are still watching over you and your children and grandchildren…and I am sure that they are very proud of you.
(ames)hey oomis- now your dad’s story is in print!
It actually sort of was – my brother was interviewed by a local town Jewish paper and much of it was printed. we just never really seriously thought about writing a book. Who knows – someday?
(SJSinNYC)My father died 20 years ago. When my son was born (and named after him), it made me so sad that he couldn’t be a part of my son’s life. I am so much more sad for my son than I am for the fact that I grew up (for the most part) without him. He was an amazing person.
I am so sorry you lost your dad at such an obviously early age. It is especially hard to bring babies into the world who must be named for one’s parent. My nephew is named for my dad O”J. By the time my parents were niftar (I am the eldest child), I was unable to have more children, though I seriously thought of it at the time. My oldest is 30, kinehora. My sadness is in knowing that my own aineklach will never get to meet and love their Great-Bubby and Zaydie. I know what they are missing. I am sure you will always keep your father’s emmory alive for your children. Have a good Shabbos.
ive said it before
Although i don’t have any stories to share, I don’t need any stories. Just look around you at this incredible world that Hashem created. The more you look at it, the more incredible it seems.
If you’d like to look at Hashem’s wonderful the world a little more, go to
http://www.theyeshivaworld.com/coffeeroom/forum/feivels-wacky-stuff
thanx feivel!
Feivel- You are right Garden Of Emunah belongs in everybody`s personal library.
I absolutely LOVE hearing stories of hashgocha protis. Keep ’em coming.
Bump worthy
Becoming a Baal Betuchen & Emuna (Faith & trust) is no simple matter. A person can’t just say, let me have faith in hashem, it is a long & Difficult journey. Becoming a person of Betuchen & Emuna in Hashem is an average of a 30 year journey minimum. (not from when your born, but from when the journey starts) Do you know what these 30 years are? Only the first 10 percent of the journey is learning every mussar sefer in the world, the other 90 percent of the journey is passing every single Nisayon (test) with Ahava (love) etc… , from accidents to robberies to deaths Chas V’Shalom etc… A true person of Faith knows the mishna in pirkei Avos that says the good & bad is all for the good every minute of the day , 24-7. Every Nisayon that a person gets from Hashem & passes, brings him closer & closer to Hashem & every test that a person experiences gets harder & harder, but a person can never ask Hashem why something bad is happening, because we all know that if a person was not able to pass a test then Hashem would never give it to him. Nothing in the world will effect a person of Bitachon, no matter what happens, cause he knows that everything Hashem does is for the good. Do you know what the reward for being a person of Faith & trust is? The reward is worth more then all the money in the world, the reward is the gift of Happiness, you get to be the happiest person in the world cause nothing in the world will effect you. Now can you tell me a better reward then that?.
I have assisted many rebbe’s coming to my community & having Tishen as a manager. The same Scene repeats itself every time. i assist the ????? & the rebbe Friday & ??? & then one of them comes over to me during ??? ?????? & said you assisted all of us so nicely you should go to the head of the table & get a ???? from the Rabbi. Do you know what i do every time? I then grabbed him on the shoulder & told him JUST keep your faith in Hashem & everything will be all right rather you got a ???? or not. I agree he is a big Rabbi his blessings can & do help & i should go & get a ???? but just keep your faith in Hashem & everything will be all right. Thats the KEY to success in Judaism if you have faith in Hashem, Hashem has faith in you. (that you will do his????). There’s nothing wrong with getting Chizzuk from a rebbe or a Rosh Yeshiva & learning from their ways etc… theres also nothing wrong with getting a bracha from a rebbe BUT getting a bracha from a rebbe & depending on it AKA: coming home & telling your wife we just got a bracha that were going to have a child or be rich or our daughter is going to have a refu’ah shleima etc… is a lack of Faith in Hashem. The Chovos Halevavos says in the chapter of faith that a person cannot have faith in 2 things (AKA Hashem & a Rebbe, Rav or friend) for when he does, he loses both. (he then brings a mashal (parable) of a Rabbi who needed tapes of his speeches made to sell so he asked 2 of his members to help make them, but he knew if he would ask them together, each one would say the other one is doing it so i don’t need to do it. Instead the Rabbi brought each one in separately & asked each one & was successful.) For when you depend on 2 you lose both.
Oomis,
Wow, that stuff about your father is really powerful, even 6 years after it was posted. Thank you for sharing!
mimah nifshach- either it should be emeenah and bituchin or emunah and bitachon
It was so worthwhile bumping this thread to give us a chance to read oomis’ amazing posts. Thank you, oomis!
I was confused by yungerman. Am I missing something? You’re saying the Chovos Halevavos, Rabbeinu Bachya, gave a mashal about a Rabbi who needed tapes of his speeches?
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