Puska Stories - Satmar Bikur Cholim

Parnassa Saved and a Lost Valuable Found

My business had been doing well, but when a lawsuit was brought against my firm, it put everything at stake. It was clear to me and my accountant that if the opposing party succeeded, my business would suffer a total loss. I was frantic, and was desperately seeking a resolution.

Around the same time, an innocent poster on the wall caught my attention. It was about a trip to Lizenske, to the grave of Rebbe Elimelech zt”l. I was convinced to join and pray for the success of my financial future, which would have serious consequences for my general well being and that of my family. I felt reassured about returning with the yeshuah in hand.

As I was leaving for the trip, my mother handed me her heirloom siddur. It was a precious keepsake of hers, and she kept a careful watch over it. It was the first time that she had ever entrusted it to anyone, and I was of course expected to value its significance and return it when my journey was over.

Acceptance Acquired One Day Before the Beginning of the Semester

It was several days before Rosh Hashanah, and we were doing our preparations technically and spiritually to the best of our abilities, without knowing what might still be added to our list. Everything was fine until the phone rang; it was the principal of our son’s yeshiva. After a short introduction, he informed us in a compassionate tone of voice of the final decision that the staff had made regarding our son’s future: Unfortunately, he would not be accepted for the next semester, starting after Sukkos. The principal explained to us that they had tried every method and used all of their resources to gain our son’s cooperation, but to no end. They would therefore be forced to reject his application for the next semester.

From Serious Diagnosis to Minor Fatigue

Mazel Tov! To the great excitement of all my family and friends, my son was engaged. The girl was good-natured, talented, and “erlich,” as were our expectations and tefillos! Thanks be to God, the nachas and joy were at their peak!
Two weeks later. A hysterical phone call arrives: It was a friend of mine alerting me that my son had fainted in Bais Hamedresh and that the paramedics were working on him. I didn’t know what had hit me. My son had always been healthy and well, and had never been treated for or diagnosed with anything more than a typical childhood cold or virus. Even that morning he had seemed perfectly fine. What had suddenly happened that made him collapse?